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"Yes. But, I do have a warning for you. I need you to do this as quickly and stealthily as possible," the director said. "You are dismissed."
Spencer stood, giving Barns a nod, and opened the door for Anya.
Spies One-On-One (Closed)
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Anya nodded at the Director and walked towards the door, giving Spencer a small smile. She walked down a hall, out of sight of the office, and then waited for Spencer.
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Spencer carefully shut the door behind himself, then caught up with Anya.
"Do you want to go over our files in my room?"
“Sure. I’ll go grab mine, meet you there?” Anya said, keeping her voice low so that no agents walking by them could overhear.
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"Sounds good. See you in a bit," Spencer said with a smile, pecking her lightly on the cheek.
“See you,” Anya smiled, blowing him a kiss before walking to her room.
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Spencer chuckled before turning and making his way to his room. As they'd been told, Manila envelopes were sitting on their tables, their name on the top above a bright red CLASSIFIED.
Anya, her folder very cleverly hidden underneath her sweater, knocked on Spencer’s door.
She had only gotten a glimpse at her folder, but it looked like she’d (finally!) be able to be a redhead. Which is unimportant… she reminded herself with a brief smile.
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Spencer opened the door with a smile.
"Hey, you got it?" he double checked as he let her in. "Want anything to drink?"
“Just water, thanks,” Anya smiled, sitting on the couch and pulling a pillow into her lap. She placed her folder on top and then waited for Spencer.
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Spencer grabbed two glasses of water and sat beside Anya. He set his glass down, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he picked up the folder from the coffee table.
"Shall we see what's inside?"
“We shall,” Anya smiled, opening her folder and beginning to read the first page.
She glanced over at Spencer’s file, but she didn’t actually read it, because she was too busy being excited about her file. “Finally! I get to be a redhead.”
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"Has that been a lifelong dream or something?" Spencer chuckled. Looking at his own file, he saw that he would have to die his hair black this time, while wearing gray contacts. "It's been a while since I did black."
“It’s has,” Anya grinned, flipping through the rest of the file. “Ever heard of Natasha Romanova?”
She read the rest of the appearance specifications. Red hair, brown eyes, freckles. No glasses.
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"The Black Widow? Who hasn't? She's legendary," Spencer said, nodding slowly.
“If she could be, she was always a redhead. I’ve looked up to her since I was a kid, but whenever I requested red hair, the Director always turned me down,” Anya explained. “But I guess he’s finally changed his mind.” She smiled broadly.
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"I guess so," Spencer agreed with a smile. "I'm glad that you're excited about it."
“Brown eyes is meh, but nothing else really goes with red, except green. And that would stand out too much,” Anya thought aloud. “Who are you going to be?”
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Spencer glanced down at his file again to read the name. "James Hunter, it looks like. Black hair, gray eyes."
“Nice,” Anya nodded. She looked at the name in her file. “Victoria (can she be ‘Hunter’ too?).”
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(Yesssssss!!! Perfect!)
Spencer blinked a few times before grinning. "Oh? Well, that's an interesting development."
Anya nodded again, her smile widening. “Indeed, it is, darling husband,” she said, tapping him on the nose. “Guess we’ll have to start getting used to that…”
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"Of course, my beautiful wife," Spencer chuckled, winking at her.
Anya laughed. “Well, I’m certainly not beautiful, but I appreciate it.” She perused the next page of her file. “It says here that our styling appointment is in twenty minutes. Shall we start heading over there?” She looked up at Spencer.
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"Sure," Spencer agreed with a nod. He stood and offered her his hand. "And I strongly disagree. You are very beautiful."
Anya did that cough/laugh thing (you know?). “Well, we might need to get your eyes checked.” She took his hand, using it to pull herself to her feet.
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Spencer shook his head as he linked their fingers together. "I don't think so, babe. I think you do."
“That, or you are in the stage of denial that follows a blindness diagnosis,” Anya teased, squeezing his hand.
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"I could say the same for you," Spencer declared, squeezing her hand back with a grin.
“Mhmm,” Anya smiled. “Sure.”
They had reached the hair and makeup place with two minutes to spare. Anya opened the door with her free hand.