Rooftop Symphony

Mad Madrid. Image found on imgur, viewable here.

He was smoking, she could smell it from she perched. The fumes twisted at the end of his cigarette and spiraled around and up into the air above her head. He didn’t make a move to sit by her, only stood behind. Close enough to push her over, to send her falling.

“Nice day for it.”

She hummed in response, non-committal. She was enjoying the view and the weightless feeling as her legs swayed back and forth over the edge. The ache in her heels was slowly fading, a tingling sensation replacing the nagging pain she’d felt all the way up to the top of the building.

“We’re supposed to be working recon, you realise.” He said, taking a drag.

“I see plenty.” She said. “I can see half the city.”

“And if we were employed to watch the city, then a grand job you’d be doing.”

She didn’t turn, knowing the expression he would be wearing even without looking. It would be an amused one, probably involving a raised eyebrow and a thin half grin separated by the smoke dangling from between his lips. “You could always go back down.” She offered.

“I could, but the view from here is rather impressive.”

A few minutes of silence followed, broken only faintly by the sounds of the music from the ballroom a few floors down. A tango she suspected, and closed her eyes to recall the image in her mind’s eye. A lush, lively tempo surrounding dozens of beautiful dancers stepping in time around a large circular floor.

“I wouldn’t mind a dance.” He said.

She shook her head. “You make a poor partner at the best of times, a tango is too much for you.”

He dropped the cigarette to the ground and brought his foot down to stub it out. “I was decent in Sydney.”

She took a breath, allowing herself one more moment to look out over the vibrant Spanish city and imagine her life as one of its residents. Then she edged back carefully and brought her legs around. He reached down to help her up and when she was standing, she met his eyes. “You were passable in Sydney. The tango requires more than studied technique. You have to be able to lead.”

He grinned. “I would be little without you, of course, to guide me.”

She rolled her eyes. “What time is the event?”

“Not until six.” He offered her his arm, which she took with a sigh. “You have the time to teach.”

“It will take more than an hour to learn, even for you.” She told him as they walked back towards the stairwell entrance.

“I shall devote myself to the task.” He mock bowed, turning swiftly to open the door for her.

“One eye on me, one on your overpriced dress shoes.” She countered, moving through the door, her feet already beginning to protest again.

“Both your eyes on our man then.” He said.

“Yes, yes. We won’t be far.” She said as he followed her through.

The door slid closed with a loud creak which was lost to the noise of the city and, at the will of the last people to pass through it, locked itself again.

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