[ when bond moves away, silva wastes no time retreating. there had been stares, of course, but it was nothing if not normal behaviour at a party like this; two respectable-looking gentlemen with a vat of sexual overtones between them, speaking close and private, one leaving without the other—but leaving a promise of more to come. so stereotypically familiar, but it's that promise, it's bond's room key and his lovely smile that seals the deal. silva smirks blankly into thin air before he's up and away, moving easily through the throng of people until they part like water for him.
it's with jaunty steps that he walks to the stairs, not the elevator, passing his vantage point where he'd hidden a steyr m9-a1 and a supressor. he jogs one floor up, catches the lift in the far wall opposite, purposefully avoiding bond until absolutely necessary. no effort is made to hide his weapon; he screws the suppressor on while the floors ding past, knowing instinctively that he won't be interrupted (the party isn't due to end for at least another two hours). his other hand goes to his pocket, where bond's key is still warm; silva's fingers casually rub against the metal until the lift doors open, warming it up further.
(it's not as though he plans to use the gun, but you can never be too careful. even with rigged cctv and hacked security cameras, there's always something that could possibly go wrong, and silva knows not to underestimate james. besides, this does make things a little more fun.)
he keys into bond's room easily, slips inside and into the dark. silva sits down in a chair facing the bed, the gun laid gently over his knees, and waits. shouldn't be too long; he hadn't spared any time, but then again, bond can be very fast. ]
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it's with jaunty steps that he walks to the stairs, not the elevator, passing his vantage point where he'd hidden a steyr m9-a1 and a supressor. he jogs one floor up, catches the lift in the far wall opposite, purposefully avoiding bond until absolutely necessary. no effort is made to hide his weapon; he screws the suppressor on while the floors ding past, knowing instinctively that he won't be interrupted (the party isn't due to end for at least another two hours). his other hand goes to his pocket, where bond's key is still warm; silva's fingers casually rub against the metal until the lift doors open, warming it up further.
(it's not as though he plans to use the gun, but you can never be too careful. even with rigged cctv and hacked security cameras, there's always something that could possibly go wrong, and silva knows not to underestimate james. besides, this does make things a little more fun.)
he keys into bond's room easily, slips inside and into the dark. silva sits down in a chair facing the bed, the gun laid gently over his knees, and waits. shouldn't be too long; he hadn't spared any time, but then again, bond can be very fast. ]