Jennie pouted, looking at her face in the mirror, as she put on rogue red lipstick. It had been a long day, photographing animals in the wild, and she had felt like she deserved a drink, so here she was, putting on the final touches of her sleek outfit. She wanted to feel more like a woman and less like an animal in the wild, after all. Her close fitting red onepiece hugged her body, perfectly moulding in with her frame. It did justice to her curves. She wore three inch black pencil heels, because why not? If she was going to get dressed up, she might as well as do it perfectly. Rich, black winged eyeliner and mascara brought out the luminosity of her eyes- two drops of intense cobalt blue. She had left her hair open, hanging in rippling black waves over her shoulders. Her lips bled red. She walked confidently- she knew she looked good.
She sat at the bar and rested her elbows on the sticky table. Loud music blared through the speakers, and a mass of sticky bodies moved to the rhythm. Her earrings, heavy circles of silver, glinted beneath the disco lights. She sat under a plethora of multicoloured lights, whose colours shifted every second. A loud pink turned to bright green, fire orange turned to a bright red that hurt the eyes - but she was used to this; She came here often. She asked the bartender to give her a scotch whiskey, voice a flare higher to be heard above the sound. Her drink arrived. As she sipped the amber coloured liquid with all the elegance and grace of a well born lady, she sneaked a glance at the man sitting beside her.
He was handsome, she must admit. The lights reflected around the bar - they were a pile of jewels that glimmered and simmered and sparkled as the first ray of light hit them. He looked stunning beneath them- all planes and angles and perfection. She wondered in the back of her mind what someone like him was doing here. He looked well off, all dressed in black. His platinum blonde hair was gelled back, and without it to cover his eyes, they were a cold gunmetal blue. Something about those eyes made a shiver run down Jennie’s spine. They were unnerving as they watched the crowd, smelling like booze and too-strong perfumes.
Jennie wrinkled her nose as she gulped down her third shot. She was wasted and she knew it, but she still wanted to talk. Sensibly. Maybe about her career. Her eyes passed over the stranger again- and stopped. He was looking at her too. As a way to strike up a conversation with this ‘damn good looking dude’, she groaned. Then she looked at him. And then she asked him- “Do you know how hard it is to get the perfect shot? Oh god, I have to lie down and focus and keep my hands steady, and-” she groaned again. The mans eyes widened slightly, and his eyebrows rose. To her mild surprise, he replied. He said, “Believe me when I say I do. And to think that the shot keeps moving around and might get out of sight any moment.” He sighed.
Jennie was glad- she had found someone who shared her troubles! “It’s so frustrating, don’t you think? You gotta position yourself properly and look through the lens and then you spend two minutes trying to keep your hands from shaking and then you finally take the shot.” He nodded his head, and gulped down another shot. Soon enough, the two warmed up to one another, and the stranger loosened up a bit. He ordered drinks for both him and her. They laughed and talked together, and the stranger said that he was glad he’d found someone like him, and if she didn’t mind, he would like to meet her again. Jennie grinned at him through an alcoholic haze, forgetting all about keeping up her manner and class. She nodded her head rapidly and added, “I’d love to meet you again. You’re fun to be with.” They went ahead and exchanged numbers, but they encountered a tiny dilemma. “What’s your name?” They both asked as the same time. Jennie giggled. She said, holding her hand out, “I’m Jennie, and you are?” He met her hand with his. “I’m Zach.” They decided to stay at the bar a while and chat.
Jennie asked Zach, “So, Zach, what exactly do you do? Are you an assistant, or an amateur, or a professional?” Zach met her gaze with a puzzled expression. He replied, “I thought you came to know my rank by hearing me talk. You know, when we were discussing how to take the perfect shot.” Jennie countered, “Yes, but sometimes amateurs have the same tips as professionals and assistants just blabber our whatever their boss told them.” Zach sighed. “Ah yes, that’s very true. It’s quite cumbersome, many a time.”
Jennie nodded. “So, you’re a professional photographer, right?”
Zach’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He buried his face in his hands. Even Through the music and his muffled voice, Jennie could make out what he said. “Don’t take me wrongly when I tell you my profession as I would still like to see you. I understand that you’re a photographer and thought that I was one too but…” His voice trailed off.
“I’m a sniper.”
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