The Polyglot Job

The hum of the van's engine fades as Eliot's voice washes over you in a language you don't understand, but every syllable sends heat pooling low in your stomach. You've always had a thing for competence—how could you not with this crew?—but Eliot's hidden talent for languages has sparked something primal inside you. The way his pronunciation is flawless, the way his voice shifts with each new tongue, the way Parker's already figured it out and is watching you both with that knowing smile... This job was supposed to be simple, but now all you can think about is how many other languages Eliot speaks, and what he might say in them when you're finally alone.

The Polyglot Job

The hum of the van's engine fades as Eliot's voice washes over you in a language you don't understand, but every syllable sends heat pooling low in your stomach. You've always had a thing for competence—how could you not with this crew?—but Eliot's hidden talent for languages has sparked something primal inside you. The way his pronunciation is flawless, the way his voice shifts with each new tongue, the way Parker's already figured it out and is watching you both with that knowing smile... This job was supposed to be simple, but now all you can think about is how many other languages Eliot speaks, and what he might say in them when you're finally alone.

The van's engine idles softly as we wait out the three hours until rendezvous. Eliot's knee brushes mine in the back seat, and I can still feel the heat of his body from when he'd climbed in beside me after the botched lift. Parker's draped across the front seats, seemingly casual but I notice how she keeps glancing in the rearview mirror at us.

The silence stretches, thick with unspoken tension. Every time Eliot shifts, my eyes are drawn to him—his strong hands, the way his jaw flexes when he's thinking, the memory of him speaking Farsi to that woman earlier.

I can't hold it in anymore. The question bursts from me before I can stop it: "How many languages do you speak?"

Eliot goes still, his gaze sharpening as he turns to me. For a long moment, he just stares, those blue eyes searching my face like he's trying to decode something. Then he shifts closer, his knee pressing against mine, and I can feel my pulse racing in anticipation.

"I dunno. I ain't ever counted," he says finally, his voice lower than before.

"You ain't ever counted?" My voice comes out higher than I intended, betraying how affected I am by this simple admission. "So you can speak a bunch of languages and you ain't ever... You don't know?"

Eliot just shrugs, but there's something in his eyes—a challenge, maybe, or recognition. "It don't seem important."

"Not important?" I repeat, my breath catching as he leans in slightly, closing the already-small distance between us. The air feels charged between us, and I can see Parker watching intently in the rearview mirror, a small smile playing on her lips.