Char swept into the room, blue silk dress rippling with each step of her long legs. She tossed long red hair behind her shoulder and beelined down the spiral stairs for the man in the tuxedo. The man himself was standing in the shadowed kitchen, shoulders hunched over as he poked at something out of sight.
Max Butler looked up as her high heels clicked onto the main floor. “I figured it out. I think.” He held up the small white box, nondescript and plain. Nothing worth stealing, the box proclaimed, too small and not small enough to contain anything of value.
“It’s gone dark on you outside.” She peeked over the box edge. “A butterfly?”
“Jewelry. Or a fancy hair clip.”
Mild disappointment ran through her. “Made of plastic? Honestly, it looks like it’s for a child, not a diplomatic function. That’s the most obvious recording device I’ve seen in years. They won’t let us within a hundred yards of the entrance.”
Max grinned, his four-day stubbled beard dark against white teeth. “I need your thumb.”
Char raised an eyebrow and proffered her hand with disdain. “I need that thing to record the ambassador’s corruption.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.” Her partner gripped her hand and pressed her thumb against the butterfly’s head, just below the antennae. “It needs your thumbprint to work.”
Her lips spread in a slow grin as she felt the plastic warm, the wings suddenly powder soft and delicate against her trailing fingers. She held her fingers to her throat as large colored dots spread across the butterfly’s wings, rippling through the rainbow. The wings fluttered and began to move, and she startled backward before she could stop herself.
Max laughed. “It’s meant to match your dress.” She tore her eyes away from the butterfly and met his dark eyes. “Here, let me help you.”
The wings settled into a brilliant cerulean blue, iridescent as it fluttered just above the box. He reached down a hand and lifted it gently, bringing the insect toward her hair.
“It’s meant to flutter, and catch attention as well as sound. It’ll angle its wings for better reception.” His low voice echoed in her ear.
Char bit her lip. His hands tangled gently in her curls, warmth grazing her face. She glanced down quickly, staring at the tips of her silver shoes. The kitchen floor gleamed underneath, unlike their usual clean but worn safehouse floors. She didn’t stop studying the tiles until his hands pulled away.
She gulped to find he had not stepped back to admire his work.
“Lady Death,” her partner said with a wry smile. “You’ll be the death of me yet.”
He retreated into shadows before she could reply, and she could not see his eyes.
“Still not fond of insects, I see.” Voice light once more, Max grabbed the flyer’s key fob from the counter and flipped it in the air. “Let’s go. Do try not to annoy the tech people so that they ‘accidentally’ forget the instructions to our gadgets again, will you?”
***
This week’s More Odds Than Ends challenge was odder than usual. I knew what I wanted to write straight away, but kept putting it off and nearly didn’t get it done. Nother Mike challenged me with “In the box was a plastic butterfly, large colorful dots spreading across its wings as it started to move…” and I can’t wait to see what Cedar Sanderson does with a black and white sunrise.
