Of Plans and Practices

Mission 1: Loid Attempts to Talk to His Wife

He was losing his touch.

After weeks of denying it, he could finally admit it to himself: his instincts have dulled.

Twilight took a deep breath and let the water run in the sink. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Scornful blue eyes looked back at him, his tousled blond hair messy after he'd run a frustrated hand through his locks. He smiled grimly at himself and then shook his head.

Maybe he really was tired from running extra missions on top of his current work to investigate Donovan Desmond.

Because for somebody who prided himself on being cool and unflappable under pressure, this time he knew he'd really messed up.

How was it possible to make such a stupid mistake for something that shouldn't have happened?

Still, though. This wasn't good.

First of all, he was hiding in the bathroom, which was a cowardly thing to do.

Second, he was most assuredly losing his nerve. He knew he ought to go back out there and apologize, but he felt as if that would somehow make things worse, which was why he was here in the bathroom gathering his thoughts and trying to think of the best way to finesse himself out of trouble.

Thirdly—and he still couldn't believe he'd done it—but he'd betrayed himself and hadn't been able to hide his reaction, something that as a spy, he'd trained years for.

Unfortunately, though, he'd been unable to hide his instinctive recoil when he'd flinched. The worst part was—he'd done it when his wife had been reaching out a hand towards him.

It had been innocent enough.

The two of them had been in the kitchen getting dinner ready and waiting for Anya to come home from school. His wife had been next to him, chattering happily about what had happened at work.

"Camilla actually listened when I told her about Anya and how she was doing at school, making friends with the other kids in her class. I told her about Anya's new friend Becky and how the two girls have gotten so close. Camilla said I was being so boring droning on and on about my child, that I was tiresome. But the best part was she called me normal! Isn't that wonderful?"

The smile she flashed at him was full of happiness, her eyes wide open and excited.

He would never admit it, but this was his favorite expression of hers, when she was smiling and relaxed: the softness of her eyes, the way she radiated so much light with the happy lift of her mouth. He also liked that her relationship with Anya had progressed to the point that she didn't even think twice about claiming her as "her" child.

He couldn't help but smile back at her. "It sure is, Yor."

Mentally, though, Twilight thought being called normal was nothing to be happy about, but it was one of those quirks that made Yor who she was. She was always happy when people complimented her on the most mundane things.

Standing beside her, Loid listened while she continued to tell him more about her conversation with her coworkers. She moved, the slow, leisurely pace of a woman simply helping out her husband in their kitchen: setting the dishes on the counter, getting things he asked for.

And then without warning, she'd reached up, her hand was coming close to the direction of his face, and he'd instinctively ducked out of her reach.

Unfortunately, the image of Yor slapping her younger brother last week was still burned in his brain. In his mind, Twilight could easily recall the way Yuri had done a graceful circle in the air—almost like a ballerina executing a pirouette in flight—before he'd fallen and landed in an ungainly heap on their living room floor.