Nov 19, 2020 10:37:34 GMT -6
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what fire does burn
what fire does burn
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When meeting with new clients, Katya almost always chose a bar. Nobody would question a lone individual enjoying a drink without talking there. But her contact was an unknown entity. And, it was safe to presume, one with enemies given their apparent need for protection. So instead she found herself at the apex of Canadian activity sitting in, of all things, an ice rink. [break][break]
This had been chosen for many reasons. The larger number of people, the less likely they were to be attacked in nontraditional means. If this were a set up Katya would be prepared. If someone tried to get to her possible charge early, it would be difficult. The auburn-haired woman sat in the top row dressed in a plain long-sleeve, black sweater with her hair set loose upon her back. In her hands she cupped a steaming hot chocolate that she had yet to drink from. Eyes focused on the scene before her but her mind was already logging images from her peripherals.[break][break]
In such a social place it was hard to appear casual but she did her best, releasing a modest cheer when one of the teams scored a goal. Mostly it was a mimicry of those around her. Thankfully, this game was important enough to draw the attention of the community but not to the point where the surrounding bleachers were packed tightly. [break][break]
Katya felt someone sit close to her right, catching a glimpse of a slender figure from the corner of her eye. She gave it a good thirty seconds before she leaned over. [break][break]
“You know, compared to last season number thirteen isn’t exactly a winning ticket anymore,” her fingers tightened ever so slightly around the Styrofoam cup as she leaned back to her proper sitting pose. [break][break]
If this were indeed her contact, they’d notice the afore discussed phrase and hopefully launch into it. Katya cared nothing for sports or the chill that hung in the air unpleasantly reminding her of a time long since passed. Sports were meaningless anyways. [break][break]
Now, if knife fighting was a sport…the fiery-haired woman didn’t dare gaze down to her favorite, artfully concealed blade. As much as she was itching to use it, the times when she did always spell more work than was worth it.[break][break]
Then again, money was money.
When meeting with new clients, Katya almost always chose a bar. Nobody would question a lone individual enjoying a drink without talking there. But her contact was an unknown entity. And, it was safe to presume, one with enemies given their apparent need for protection. So instead she found herself at the apex of Canadian activity sitting in, of all things, an ice rink. [break][break]
This had been chosen for many reasons. The larger number of people, the less likely they were to be attacked in nontraditional means. If this were a set up Katya would be prepared. If someone tried to get to her possible charge early, it would be difficult. The auburn-haired woman sat in the top row dressed in a plain long-sleeve, black sweater with her hair set loose upon her back. In her hands she cupped a steaming hot chocolate that she had yet to drink from. Eyes focused on the scene before her but her mind was already logging images from her peripherals.[break][break]
In such a social place it was hard to appear casual but she did her best, releasing a modest cheer when one of the teams scored a goal. Mostly it was a mimicry of those around her. Thankfully, this game was important enough to draw the attention of the community but not to the point where the surrounding bleachers were packed tightly. [break][break]
Katya felt someone sit close to her right, catching a glimpse of a slender figure from the corner of her eye. She gave it a good thirty seconds before she leaned over. [break][break]
“You know, compared to last season number thirteen isn’t exactly a winning ticket anymore,” her fingers tightened ever so slightly around the Styrofoam cup as she leaned back to her proper sitting pose. [break][break]
If this were indeed her contact, they’d notice the afore discussed phrase and hopefully launch into it. Katya cared nothing for sports or the chill that hung in the air unpleasantly reminding her of a time long since passed. Sports were meaningless anyways. [break][break]
Now, if knife fighting was a sport…the fiery-haired woman didn’t dare gaze down to her favorite, artfully concealed blade. As much as she was itching to use it, the times when she did always spell more work than was worth it.[break][break]
Then again, money was money.
[attr="class","runruntag"]#@leovaleris
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PHARAOH LEAP CREATES
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