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Rafe struggled in the soldier's grip. "Run!" He shouted to the small group behind him. Although bigger and stronger than his captive, it appeared the man was prepared to fight if necessary. Protect his compatriots. Give them time to scurry their prize to safety.
Advent Nays watched the retreating pack of rebels, green eyes lit with mirth behind his rimless specs. "Oh yes loves, run." He purred. Turning his attention back to his captive, "Where the devil do you think you are? Down the rabbit hole with Alice?" The older man laughed. "They won't get within five feet of a door. We own this place. If it was that baby genius we really wanted, we would have had him hours ago."
Those blue, blue eyes said it all. Rafe couldn't decide if that was an empty threat. Like a frightened animal he had to get away, warn the rest of the filthy rebels that it might be a set up. The young man stomped hard on the toes of Advent's high buckled boots only to discover they were steel toed. "Shit!"
Advent was a good eight inches taller than Rafe. And that would have been without the boots. Well muscled, long loose brown hair and vibrant green eyes the soldier was far more imposing. He was dramatic and handsome in his high collared, black Territorial uniform and long leather trench coat. Confidence radiated from the Field Officer.
"You trying to go somewhere?" Advent slammed Rafe's back against the table knocking the man's glasses askew. He hissed from the pain. "I don't think so. You and I, we have some personal issues to deal with." For years now Rafe and his crew had been a thorn in the Territories' side. Which meant he'd been a pain in Advent Nay's side. Amazing that he'd been caught so easy. Always before, the rebels had managed to slip away at just the last minute.
Months of studying grainy field cams and old school vids had seared Rafe Ayer's features into the Field Officer's brain. He dreamt of the pensive smile and brooding eyes of the man in his grasp. At first he told himself it was just work carrying itself into sleep. Finally he admitted that the cat and mouse game they played made him want a man he'd only seen in fleeting moments. It was "hard to get" ratcheted times twenty. Advent liked hard to get. And the rebel was really good looking; too bad he worked for the wrong side.
"Sod off!" Rafe spat. His silvered specs slid off his face, the mop of blonde hair falling into his eyes. He wore a bad imitation of club clothes: blue flash-pants that rose barely high enough to be considered hip huggers, a torn white shirt and chunky sneakers. It made him look young and small against Advent's leather draped frame.
Pushing Rafe back into the booth, Advent hissed. "That's an interesting idea." The rebel was such a little committed freak...a lot like he'd been at that age. Of course Ayer came from one of the good families, the kind which bread intellectuals and dissidents. Nothing like Advent's own working class background. Maybe the rebel wasn't as aggressive, but cute; trying to pretend he was older and wiser than he really was. And his oh-so-proper accent, it reminded him of home.
