[An organization as well-funded as Kingsman has plenty of resources for its two newest Knights to take advantage of, and today Eggsy and Roxy have decided to go down to the shooting range.
These days, it's like Eggsy can't handle not having something to do. On the stretches of time when he's not on some death-defying mission, he searches for ways to pass the time. He has an idea of why -- because if he stops, then he'll actually have time to think. He hasn't truly had any closure on Harry's death and it's eating at him, but there's nothing that can really be said about it, is there? Harry's dead, he's not coming back, and they're not even allowed to honor him or even put up a grave site to visit.
If Roxy's having any similar struggles, Eggsy hasn't seen any sign of it. She's rock solid, able to hide whatever she's feeling behind a more composed exterior. Like a true Knight should be able to do under any circumstances. Eggsy feels as if he's still behind and struggling to catch up with her near-perfect example.
Not that he resents her for it. Eggsy is proud of her, always has been.
They've pulled out a variety of different handguns and rifles to test out on the range. Both of them have impeccable weapons scores, so this is hardly necessary, but it's something to do and that's what matters.
He takes his turn, shooting at a target fifteen yards away with a handgun. He hits every circled point on the imitation of a human body before spinning around to face Roxy, clicking the safety on before setting the gun back down.]
Like to see you do better than that. [He winks at her, knowing full well she probably can.]
( good, because she's out of the car and up the front steps in a matter of seconds, twisting the doorknob despite ettiquette dictation she still ought to knock, and pushing into the house with an aura of poorly contained emotions; it's like a bubble inside her chest that's waiting to pop, but for appearances sake, roxy just holds her chin up in greeting and pushes the door shut behind her. )
Sorry, ( is the first thing out of her mouth; but it's flat, and she doesn't sound all that sorry at all. ) I would have called earlier, but I was in the neighborhood.
[Etiquette be damned. Eggsy had hoped that Roxy would be able to put her manners to the side long enough to just take the hint and come inside, and thankfully she does. He's making his way down the stairs by the time that she comes inside, JB quick on his heels. As soon as the pup realizes who's come to visit, he lets out an excited bark and rushes past Eggsy's ankles in greeting.
But Eggsy senses what JB doesn't. That something is wrong. It's all in Roxy's voice, which is almost monotone. She's trying her best to keep a neutral expression, but she's drained somehow.
Mouth twisting downward, Eggsy takes the last few steps two at a time and then pauses right in front of Roxy to look her over. He works his jaw and peers at her face.]
the year after v-day is hell for all governmental parties. while valentine's plot hadn't come to full fruition — there'd not been a 99% wipe out of humanity all across the globe, and his chosen few hadn't repopulated the earth and molded its process with his hand picked gene pool — there'd still been significant casualities. even after it's released that richmond valentine had been behind it all, there'd still been mass scrambling to cover the asses of the (remaining) elected officials that didn't check up on his projects. the world calls for all private technology companies to go public with all their endevours, and the ensuing chaos and deep seeded distrust of all powerful people made for prime conditions for crime to spring up. everything from petty theft to grand scale heists and expansive human trafficking rings, and with half the kingsman's original roster having gotten their heads blown off like the rest of valentine's pocketed party goers, that leaves them a bit short staffed while merlin (or arthur, as absolutely no one calls him) trains new recruits.
they aren't solitary creatures; everyone's perfectly capable of working as a team, but the facts are they haven't got enough members to allow for double missions anymore — nor do they have enough numbers to allow anyone a vacation. so from june to march of the next year, roxy barely sets foot in her own home (a company perk and looking like something out of a catologue, it's that untouched) and seldom stops by hq except to shower, change, debrief, and pick up her new plane tickets to the other side of the world. she spends a month in america rooting out an underground drug ring intent on recreating the effects of valentine's v-chip, but in snortable form, and another two in france, worming her way into the newly established mafia in attempts at getting close enough to their leader to cap him.
most of the time she's in very little contact with merlin, the voice in her ear only chiming in when information has changed — this is no longer a recon mission, terminate at your discretion, lancelot — or when she does something wrong. roxy learns early on that updates from home are a no-go while in enemy territory (not that either of her parents are thrilled by this mysterious and dumb tailoring position she's accepted), and updates on her fellow kingsman are just ridiculous to even ask for. and she loves her job, really. but she can't help think that it'd be nice to spend a few quality hours around people she might not have to shoot in the face next week.
so naturally, one of the few occasions where she's not immediately whisked off to minsk or bulgaria upon arrival at the uk hq, and when she hears eggsy's flying in the same evening, roxy politely asks (all but begs) to play valet and pick him up from the public air strip. and merlin — sir one of my recruits just actually shot his fucking dog and i'm tired merlin — doesn't put up much of a fight about it, just asks that galahad be brought back to the mansion for debrief so they could be done with the mess in costa rica.
it's a simple black town car, and she's in her simple kingsman issue jacket, leaning up against the passenger door when the plane touches down. roxy's got an umbrella overhead because what had started as a light drizzle quickly became huge, soaking droplets intent on soaking one to the bone, but she's smiling. and strolls out to meet him on the tarmac, lifting the edge of the umbrella to cover his head as well. )
I heard you'd ordered a taxi, sir, ( she teases, nodding her head back to the comandeered self driving taxi and trying to pretend she wasn't really damned happy to see him — perhaps even happy to ignore merlin's demand for his return and take the scenic, long route in order to catch up. )
[The mess in Costa Rica is more or less done with, finally. Eggsy's been at it for a month now, because this assignment hadn't been as simple as showing up, shooting the bad guys, and then flying home to pick up the next mission. No, this had involved a powerful man by the name of Harley Jamison, one who'd pledged himself to Valentine but whose paranoia had led him to cut his own chip out of his neck -- meaning that he's one of the few who had been spared when Merlin had triggered all the chips to go off.
It seems like a rational person would have considered themselves lucky and quit while they were ahead, gone into hiding or at least kept their head down, but not Jamison. He had decided to install himself in Costa Rica of all places, to try and start his own tiny dictatorship, although those things don't ever remain small, and any subjugation of a people can't be ignored.
Besides, any remnant of Valentine's work Eggsy sees as his responsibility. He'd more or less demanded that Merlin assign this job to him.
Which is something he regrets a bit now, if only because it had been a lot of work. He'd had to infiltrate Jamison's ranks and slowly but surely turn his men against him by spreading information about him -- without being too obvious about what he was doing. Then he had to convince a small homegrown militia to rise up against him and overthrow him, something that had ultimately been successful. He can be glad about that, at least, but mostly Eggsy is just exhausted, especially after the long flight home.
So when he exits the plane and finds that London is being drenched in rain, Eggsy isn't too thrilled about it. He's accustomed to it, of course, having grown up here, but he isn't in the mood to be soaked through. Thankfully, someone has come to his rescue. At first all he can see is the black umbrella, but soon enough it's tilted back and Eggsy is treated with a look at Roxy's face. He hasn't seen her in person in months, though they send messages back and forth when they can, and so he's grinning (wearily, but still grinning) as he approaches.
Whereas Roxy does what she can to be casual about it, Eggsy doesn't make any effort to hide how relieved he is.] Ain't you a sight for sore eyes. [He edges under the umbrella and then closer, invading Roxy's personal space to wrap both arms around her.
She's warm, and he buries his face into her shoulder. They're the only ones out here, he doesn't have to worry about appearances.]
( the arm with the umbrella gets trapped between them when he hugs her; the tactfully designed weapon is also 100% water resistient, but held at such an awkward, crooked angle just means water is running off the top and down her back. which completely negates the purpose of having an umbrella in the first place. but roxy ultimately doesn't mind in the long run.
her unengaged arm hesitates, then snakes around so she can splay her palm between his shoulder blades and press — just a little bit of reaffirming pressure before she rubs her hand in a soothing circle (of assessment). after a few strokes, a few beats, a few breaths against her lapel, roxy pulls away to get a better look at his face. )
You alright?
( because eggsy's rather touchy feely. it's a good thing, a great thing, and something she's come to crave as a sort of cathardic release just as much as the next person in an intense, high stress work environment. but there's something tired about the way he leans on her, and it's concerning. )
[It's possible that the hug would have lasted a lot longer if Roxy hadn't pulled back, mainly because Eggsy doesn't have the energy right now to do more than just flop most of his weight onto someone else. He should have slept on the flight in, but he's not any good at sleeping on planes. What he needs now is his bed, and the thought of it is so good that he could cry.
Not that he does, of course, instead letting his eyes track over Roxy's face as she fixes him with a worried look. He's barely got the brain power to register every shift in her expression, but then again, he no longer has to worry about playing a game, or having an angle. Roxy is just Roxy, and that's why it's so good to see her again.]
Yeah. Just... dead on my feet.
[He rubs at his eye and then realizes that Roxy is getting rained on, so he presses on the stem of the umbrella to angle it back slightly. There isn't really enough space for both of them to fit under it, so he starts to move toward the car.]
( she grins at eggsy while he peels away from her; out from under the umbrella and back into the rain to circle the car and open the passenger door. it's the stupid kind of smile that doesn't go away, either; the slaphappy, content grin that roxy treats the wet pavement to as she follows in his wake, collapsing her umbrella in order to slide into the drivers seat with a decent amount of grace. )
Merlin's asked me to retrieve you for a debrief — ( and he's probably got trackers in everything they own, so she's not exactly about to disobey him outright, but... ) — but afterwards I was thinking we could grab a drink. Or I can just take you home, I'm sure your jetlagged. ( which is her polite way of telling him that, yes, you look dead on your feet, eggsy. )
[It's not often that Eggsy gets the chance to engage in some fun that doesn't also involve putting his life at risk, these days. Which he isn't complaining about, he honestly isn't. He wouldn't give up being a Kingsman for the world, but now any excitement he enjoys also comes with a hearty serving of fearing for his life, and that wears down even on the hardiest of people.
So what they've got planned at HQ today is a real treat. Merlin's long training session for new Kingsman agents (to replace the scum who had sold their souls to Valentine) has finally come to an end, and they've got two new Knights to break in: Gareth and Tristan. Eggsy hasn't actually learned their real names yet, but he will at some point.
They're celebrating, and doing that in true Kingsman fashion: with guns. Not real guns, of course, but paintball guns. It's going to be two-on-two, Galahad and Lancelot against Tristan and Gareth, a proper hazing with Merlin as their judge.
They've set up a makeshift paintball arena on the front lawn, complete with barricades and trenches and the like, and all four of them are in jumpsuits that can handle a bit of paint staining. They'll be having some cake and such afterward, but first they've got to put the fresh meat in its place.
Because there's no way he and Roxy are losing this. Eggsy glances over at her as he straps on his gloves and checks to see that his gun is loaded up with paint pellets. JB is laid out nearby, wearing a pair of sunglasses that fit him surprisingly well. (As soon as Eggsy figured out that little trick, he hardly goes anywhere without making JB model them.)]
So should we go easy on them or completely destroy them? [Either way they were going to win, but Eggsy doesn't know quite how mean they should be.]
he slides the manila folders into their hands, cues up the screen to introduce them to richard and petra justice — who were apparently earned their way onto the kingsman's persons of interest list by supposedly stealing millions of peoples identities, including those of important political standing, and their intentions of what to do with the stolen information was yet unknown — and announces, congradulations when they get to the back of the file and find the neatly printed, top notched forgery of a marriage certificate for gary and roxanne alden. roxy's first thought is something along the lines of oh, this is a very good fake followed by oh, that's because we have an entire department dedicated to producing faux documents on the fly for everything from passports to birth certificates.
when what she's reading finally catches up up with her, she scowls at merlin curiously until he tells them they'll be moving in next door to the justices and will be worming their way into the older couples hearts until they trust them enough to leave them alone with their computers (or cds, or floppy disks, or flash drives, or external harddrives — whatever the files were being stored on, and figuring that out was merlin's responsibility), which they are then to destroy. he leaves the how up to the two of them.
and what better way to brainstorm mission tactics than to get drunk on roxy's pristine white sofa?
there is none, that's the best way. this mission is a lot more intel than action thus far; they're playing roles and must solidify their backing as well as their plans for execution of the data destrution. and right after they bust a gut laughing at (but not off) the plan of eggsy seducing both of their neighbors-to-be, roxy takes a swig of wine and make a contemplative hum in the back of her throat. )
[Eggsy's first thought when he sees the marriage certificate is also that it's a good fake, but his second is more along the lines of how is he supposed to pretend he's a well-adjusted individual who's married and is moving into a house? It's one thing to act like he's some greasy, arrogant young professional at a gala, and something else entirely to run around playing house and being all domestic and shit.
Still, a job is a job, and he has to learn all aspects of being a Kingsman -- not just the running around shooting guns and tackling people bits.
At least they do have some time to brainstorm, because Eggsy is going to need a good helping of preparation if he's going to pull this off properly. Roxy is his best friend, don't get him wrong, but he's never thought of her like that. Their friendship had been forged in the trenches, so to speak. It goes far beyond the manufactured romance angle that they'll have to play for this assignment.
He sways on the couch, already half-drunk but determined not to spill any of the red wine on Roxy's pure white couch.
That suggestion causes Eggsy to raise an eyebrow, his mouth thinning out into a far more sober expression. That's a pretty tough scenario to have to try and keep up, especially if this ends up taking them a few weeks of being in deep cover.] I dunno, Rox. That kind of grief -- makin' it believable? Seems like a hard sell.
[Granted, in his case, all he has to do is focus on what he'd feel like if something happened to his baby sister, and he could probably get the waterworks going. Whether he can actually be convincing with it is another question entirely, though.]
Everyone deals with grief in different ways, Eggsy. ( take him, for example; occasionally getting pick-me-up plastered and needing a ride home because of the ghost of harry hart that still torments him because he lets it.
but even headily intoxicated, roxy has more tact than to say that. she swallows that observation for a later date and continues to wax poetic about about the pain of loss. )
There's no right or wrong way about it. Besides that, it'd be a private matter, not something we flaunt the second we pull up in the moving truck. It could be a very effective nail in the coffin of our emotional manipulation — ( being vulnerable around people tend to make them trust you. or rather, made them feel superior to you ) — as well as explain away any inconsistencies between us as a couple.
( and she tips er wine glass at him, like that's his queue to go oooh and cheers her for this thorough thought process. )
[Oh, Eggsy knows a thing or two about grief now, that much is impossible to deny. He does his best to anyway, though, not interested in talking about it most of the time, except for when he is, and then he feels as if he might explode if he doesn't get the words out of his system fast enough. Merlin's the one who's had to bear the brunt of that, though.
He definitely isn't in one of those moods now. It's much easier for him to focus on their potential fake dead child. Roxy makes a good point, that they could spin the lie and sell it over time, but he's still wary to go with something that heavy.]
What inconsistencies?
[Does she mean that they won't be very convincing as two people who are supposed to be in love? Because yes, that might be a problem, and explaining it away by citing the strain of a lost child would give it all some more legitimacy.
They're really going to go through with this, aren't they. Eggsy sighs and knocks back most of the rest of his glass of wine, as horrific of an idea as that is. The sourness has him wincing as he sets the glass down on the nearby table.]
Maybe we should be fighting a lot. That's usually what happens when two people lose a child, right? It tears their whole relationship apart.
[Which is depressing, but if they're going with this scenario they may as well do it right. And Eggsy has heard enough domestic disputes that he could fake one easily enough.]
We could be. We could also be trying to work through it.
( eggsy downs his wine in one big gulp, and roxy feels a little sorry that she's driven him to drink. it is a sour idea and a hard sell, but it had been the most solid one she could think of; a direct appeal to pathos, a very visceral hurt that would have anyone sympathetic to their loss.
and they're kind of super secret spies. if they couldn't sell a good lie, kingsman really had no use to them.
though the prospect of livingbreathingsleepingeating roxanne and gary alden 24/7 is a bit daunting, roxy sees it as something of a challenge at this point. and like all other things she challenges herself to do, with execute this one perfectly. but while she's not worried about eggsy's committment to their roles once they had them all hammered down, she's a good friend and a little worried about his heart. so with the fingers not wrapped around the stem of her wine glass, she reaches out to pat the back of his hand. )
I remember reading about the psychological strains of undercover work, and the importance of checking emotional baggage at the door, both in and out. So if, starting Wednesday, it just feels right to yell and scream at, and to hate each other, we ought to work with that. But please know that no matter what we say to each other, I still love you, alright?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxy morton > please be gentle
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These days, it's like Eggsy can't handle not having something to do. On the stretches of time when he's not on some death-defying mission, he searches for ways to pass the time. He has an idea of why -- because if he stops, then he'll actually have time to think. He hasn't truly had any closure on Harry's death and it's eating at him, but there's nothing that can really be said about it, is there? Harry's dead, he's not coming back, and they're not even allowed to honor him or even put up a grave site to visit.
If Roxy's having any similar struggles, Eggsy hasn't seen any sign of it. She's rock solid, able to hide whatever she's feeling behind a more composed exterior. Like a true Knight should be able to do under any circumstances. Eggsy feels as if he's still behind and struggling to catch up with her near-perfect example.
Not that he resents her for it. Eggsy is proud of her, always has been.
They've pulled out a variety of different handguns and rifles to test out on the range. Both of them have impeccable weapons scores, so this is hardly necessary, but it's something to do and that's what matters.
He takes his turn, shooting at a target fifteen yards away with a handgun. He hits every circled point on the imitation of a human body before spinning around to face Roxy, clicking the safety on before setting the gun back down.]
Like to see you do better than that. [He winks at her, knowing full well she probably can.]
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Because I'm outside.
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Sorry, ( is the first thing out of her mouth; but it's flat, and she doesn't sound all that sorry at all. ) I would have called earlier, but I was in the neighborhood.
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But Eggsy senses what JB doesn't. That something is wrong. It's all in Roxy's voice, which is almost monotone. She's trying her best to keep a neutral expression, but she's drained somehow.
Mouth twisting downward, Eggsy takes the last few steps two at a time and then pauses right in front of Roxy to look her over. He works his jaw and peers at her face.]
What is it?
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It seems like a rational person would have considered themselves lucky and quit while they were ahead, gone into hiding or at least kept their head down, but not Jamison. He had decided to install himself in Costa Rica of all places, to try and start his own tiny dictatorship, although those things don't ever remain small, and any subjugation of a people can't be ignored.
Besides, any remnant of Valentine's work Eggsy sees as his responsibility. He'd more or less demanded that Merlin assign this job to him.
Which is something he regrets a bit now, if only because it had been a lot of work. He'd had to infiltrate Jamison's ranks and slowly but surely turn his men against him by spreading information about him -- without being too obvious about what he was doing. Then he had to convince a small homegrown militia to rise up against him and overthrow him, something that had ultimately been successful. He can be glad about that, at least, but mostly Eggsy is just exhausted, especially after the long flight home.
So when he exits the plane and finds that London is being drenched in rain, Eggsy isn't too thrilled about it. He's accustomed to it, of course, having grown up here, but he isn't in the mood to be soaked through. Thankfully, someone has come to his rescue. At first all he can see is the black umbrella, but soon enough it's tilted back and Eggsy is treated with a look at Roxy's face. He hasn't seen her in person in months, though they send messages back and forth when they can, and so he's grinning (wearily, but still grinning) as he approaches.
Whereas Roxy does what she can to be casual about it, Eggsy doesn't make any effort to hide how relieved he is.] Ain't you a sight for sore eyes. [He edges under the umbrella and then closer, invading Roxy's personal space to wrap both arms around her.
She's warm, and he buries his face into her shoulder. They're the only ones out here, he doesn't have to worry about appearances.]
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her unengaged arm hesitates, then snakes around so she can splay her palm between his shoulder blades and press — just a little bit of reaffirming pressure before she rubs her hand in a soothing circle (of assessment). after a few strokes, a few beats, a few breaths against her lapel, roxy pulls away to get a better look at his face. )
You alright?
( because eggsy's rather touchy feely. it's a good thing, a great thing, and something she's come to crave as a sort of cathardic release just as much as the next person in an intense, high stress work environment. but there's something tired about the way he leans on her, and it's concerning. )
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Not that he does, of course, instead letting his eyes track over Roxy's face as she fixes him with a worried look. He's barely got the brain power to register every shift in her expression, but then again, he no longer has to worry about playing a game, or having an angle. Roxy is just Roxy, and that's why it's so good to see her again.]
Yeah. Just... dead on my feet.
[He rubs at his eye and then realizes that Roxy is getting rained on, so he presses on the stem of the umbrella to angle it back slightly. There isn't really enough space for both of them to fit under it, so he starts to move toward the car.]
And it's been way too long since I've seen you.
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( she grins at eggsy while he peels away from her; out from under the umbrella and back into the rain to circle the car and open the passenger door. it's the stupid kind of smile that doesn't go away, either; the slaphappy, content grin that roxy treats the wet pavement to as she follows in his wake, collapsing her umbrella in order to slide into the drivers seat with a decent amount of grace. )
Merlin's asked me to retrieve you for a debrief — ( and he's probably got trackers in everything they own, so she's not exactly about to disobey him outright, but... ) — but afterwards I was thinking we could grab a drink. Or I can just take you home, I'm sure your jetlagged. ( which is her polite way of telling him that, yes, you look dead on your feet, eggsy. )
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eggsy.
analgesics :)
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Not at all.
( but she did just kinda spell out pft )
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whoops ignore how i accidentally subscribed to you
general dumb actiony shit
LMAO I DID MY BEST.......
So what they've got planned at HQ today is a real treat. Merlin's long training session for new Kingsman agents (to replace the scum who had sold their souls to Valentine) has finally come to an end, and they've got two new Knights to break in: Gareth and Tristan. Eggsy hasn't actually learned their real names yet, but he will at some point.
They're celebrating, and doing that in true Kingsman fashion: with guns. Not real guns, of course, but paintball guns. It's going to be two-on-two, Galahad and Lancelot against Tristan and Gareth, a proper hazing with Merlin as their judge.
They've set up a makeshift paintball arena on the front lawn, complete with barricades and trenches and the like, and all four of them are in jumpsuits that can handle a bit of paint staining. They'll be having some cake and such afterward, but first they've got to put the fresh meat in its place.
Because there's no way he and Roxy are losing this. Eggsy glances over at her as he straps on his gloves and checks to see that his gun is loaded up with paint pellets. JB is laid out nearby, wearing a pair of sunglasses that fit him surprisingly well. (As soon as Eggsy figured out that little trick, he hardly goes anywhere without making JB model them.)]
So should we go easy on them or completely destroy them? [Either way they were going to win, but Eggsy doesn't know quite how mean they should be.]
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Still, a job is a job, and he has to learn all aspects of being a Kingsman -- not just the running around shooting guns and tackling people bits.
At least they do have some time to brainstorm, because Eggsy is going to need a good helping of preparation if he's going to pull this off properly. Roxy is his best friend, don't get him wrong, but he's never thought of her like that. Their friendship had been forged in the trenches, so to speak. It goes far beyond the manufactured romance angle that they'll have to play for this assignment.
He sways on the couch, already half-drunk but determined not to spill any of the red wine on Roxy's pure white couch.
That suggestion causes Eggsy to raise an eyebrow, his mouth thinning out into a far more sober expression. That's a pretty tough scenario to have to try and keep up, especially if this ends up taking them a few weeks of being in deep cover.] I dunno, Rox. That kind of grief -- makin' it believable? Seems like a hard sell.
[Granted, in his case, all he has to do is focus on what he'd feel like if something happened to his baby sister, and he could probably get the waterworks going. Whether he can actually be convincing with it is another question entirely, though.]
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but even headily intoxicated, roxy has more tact than to say that. she swallows that observation for a later date and continues to wax poetic about about the pain of loss. )
There's no right or wrong way about it. Besides that, it'd be a private matter, not something we flaunt the second we pull up in the moving truck. It could be a very effective nail in the coffin of our emotional manipulation — ( being vulnerable around people tend to make them trust you. or rather, made them feel superior to you ) — as well as explain away any inconsistencies between us as a couple.
( and she tips er wine glass at him, like that's his queue to go oooh and cheers her for this thorough thought process. )
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He definitely isn't in one of those moods now. It's much easier for him to focus on their potential fake dead child. Roxy makes a good point, that they could spin the lie and sell it over time, but he's still wary to go with something that heavy.]
What inconsistencies?
[Does she mean that they won't be very convincing as two people who are supposed to be in love? Because yes, that might be a problem, and explaining it away by citing the strain of a lost child would give it all some more legitimacy.
They're really going to go through with this, aren't they. Eggsy sighs and knocks back most of the rest of his glass of wine, as horrific of an idea as that is. The sourness has him wincing as he sets the glass down on the nearby table.]
Maybe we should be fighting a lot. That's usually what happens when two people lose a child, right? It tears their whole relationship apart.
[Which is depressing, but if they're going with this scenario they may as well do it right. And Eggsy has heard enough domestic disputes that he could fake one easily enough.]
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( eggsy downs his wine in one big gulp, and roxy feels a little sorry that she's driven him to drink. it is a sour idea and a hard sell, but it had been the most solid one she could think of; a direct appeal to pathos, a very visceral hurt that would have anyone sympathetic to their loss.
and they're kind of super secret spies. if they couldn't sell a good lie, kingsman really had no use to them.
though the prospect of livingbreathingsleepingeating roxanne and gary alden 24/7 is a bit daunting, roxy sees it as something of a challenge at this point. and like all other things she challenges herself to do, with execute this one perfectly. but while she's not worried about eggsy's committment to their roles once they had them all hammered down, she's a good friend and a little worried about his heart. so with the fingers not wrapped around the stem of her wine glass, she reaches out to pat the back of his hand. )
I remember reading about the psychological strains of undercover work, and the importance of checking emotional baggage at the door, both in and out. So if, starting Wednesday, it just feels right to yell and scream at, and to hate each other, we ought to work with that. But please know that no matter what we say to each other, I still love you, alright?
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