“If you’re going to tell me some folksy anecdote about basketball, I’m not looking to hear it.”
The mild irritation in Ressler’s voice gives away more than he wanted about how he feels about this particular “mission” – not because he dislikes it, but because he might enjoy it. It’s hard not to enjoy floor seats to a Wizards game. The fact that he’s here with Raymond Reddington, undercover, is not his idea of a good time.
“Relax, Donald, I’m not here to harsh your fun.” Reddington seems amused by the fact that Ressler is hostile. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be, as they say, ‘on the clock’?”
The younger man stews as he keeps scanning the crowd for their target. His eyes also stray to the game, getting into it before he catches himself and remembers where he is and who he is with. Reddington just seems amused by all of it.
“You are allowed to enjoy yourself you know. I know this is a business occasion, but this is a very good game. Best I’ve seen since –”
“Okay. That’s turning into one of those anecdotes that I said I didn’t want to hear.” Ressler holds up a finger, before standing and heading towards the stairs. “I’m going to go do a loop around.”
“Suit yourself.”
He leaves, circling up one of the main levels by the concession stands where he can still see the game, and makes like he’s getting on line for popcorn. It doesn’t take long before he’s swept up in the game again, yelling at the players from his place in line. It isn’t long before he turns and there’s Dembe, watching him with the same amused expression Reddington had earlier.
and welcome to the jam | the blacklist | 300 | round 1, set 7
The mild irritation in Ressler’s voice gives away more than he wanted about how he feels about this particular “mission” – not because he dislikes it, but because he might enjoy it. It’s hard not to enjoy floor seats to a Wizards game. The fact that he’s here with Raymond Reddington, undercover, is not his idea of a good time.
“Relax, Donald, I’m not here to harsh your fun.” Reddington seems amused by the fact that Ressler is hostile. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be, as they say, ‘on the clock’?”
The younger man stews as he keeps scanning the crowd for their target. His eyes also stray to the game, getting into it before he catches himself and remembers where he is and who he is with. Reddington just seems amused by all of it.
“You are allowed to enjoy yourself you know. I know this is a business occasion, but this is a very good game. Best I’ve seen since –”
“Okay. That’s turning into one of those anecdotes that I said I didn’t want to hear.” Ressler holds up a finger, before standing and heading towards the stairs. “I’m going to go do a loop around.”
“Suit yourself.”
He leaves, circling up one of the main levels by the concession stands where he can still see the game, and makes like he’s getting on line for popcorn. It doesn’t take long before he’s swept up in the game again, yelling at the players from his place in line. It isn’t long before he turns and there’s Dembe, watching him with the same amused expression Reddington had earlier.
Ressler swallows. “Please don’t tell him.”
Dembe smiles. “Your secret is safe with me.”