Disclaimer: I don't own Sands. Samantha is mine.
She pulled out the chair and sat down across from Agent Sands. He didn't look up, just continued to eat the red dish that sat in front of him as if she weren't there. She was sure it was him. He fit the description and picture she was given; dark brown shoulder length hair, slim build, 5'10" tall.
"Agent Sands?" she asked in order to get his attention.
He looked up from his food briefly and nodded slightly toward her. His eyes were covered in dark blue-tinted sunglasses but she could see that he was now looking her way.
"I'm Agent Butterfield. They sent me to be your partner here in Mexico." She said pleasantly and reached out her hand to shake his.
His eyebrows shot up behind the sunglasses. "Butterfield? Is that what you go by?"
"Well, you can call me Samantha if you like. After all, we will be working together." She smiled, her hand still outreached for the handshake that wasn't coming.
The corners of his mouth drew into a smirk. "Will we now?", he mused. "Well, Sam, I work alone. I have no use for a partner." He continued to eat his food.
"Agent Sands, I know that you have been working alone for some time but the agency felt it was in your best interest if someone was here to watch your back. Intelligence has indicated that something big might be going down here in Mexico shortly and…."
He cut her off, "Would you like to try some of my pork? It's really quite good," he said pointing down to the food with his fork and looking at her.
"No…sir. I'd like to continue to discuss…"
"It's sir now is it, His mouth twitched. "Sam, how long have you been with the CIA? His eyebrows raised in a question.
"Aw, two years now," she stammered.
"So, they sent me a rookie, how charming." He laughed a short laugh.
"I'm not a rookie s…."
"How old are you?" he cut her off again.
"I'm 22," she said resignedly.
He snorted in disapproval. "When you report back to DC, which you undoubtedly will several times a day, let them know that I am not a babysitter."
He got up pushing his chair back with a squeak, signed the check and quickly exited the restaurant. Samantha had to practically run to catch up to him.
"Listen, I'm sure you'd rather work alone, but I was assigned to assist you and I am only trying to do my job," she said shortly as she caught up to him.
They were standing beside a red and black sports car. "Get in," he said to her.
She looked at the car as he jumped in and started it up. "Where are we going? She asked hesitantly.
"What hotel are you staying at?" he asked.
She got in the car and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and read him the hotel name in very poor Spanish as best as she could make it out.
He rolled his eyes at her. "So you don't speak Spanish either. This is turning out to be a fine turn of events." His mouth turned into an angry grin. "Is this some kind of joke from headquarters or did they seriously send you to be my partner?"
"No, it's not a joke, sir."
"Quit calling me sir!" he practically shouted at her. "OK," he said more calmly. " I'm going to take you back to your hotel and you are going to call the CIA and tell them to send you back home."
"No, I won't do that! Listen, I can help you. I'm not as inexperienced as you think."
"Oh, really?" he questioned. "How many assignments have you been on?"
"Two…but they both went really well and I graduated top of the class in training and…," she started.
"That's all fine and well Sam but I need real experience down here not some pencil pusher that went on two cushy assignments to sharpen her teeth and now she thinks she can do anything," he said annoyed with her.
"I assure you I CAN do the job!" She said getting annoyed herself now.
"Yes, yes, everyone is very assured until bullets start flying past their head. He waved one gloved hand in the air around his head. Do you think you can handle THAT?" he said pointedly.
"Of course, sir…Sands. I am a highly trained professional."
He whistled between his teeth and rolled his eyes. "This is truly unbelieveable," he said.