Certainty and confidence, loyalty and diligence...
At the waning hours of daylight, a cab pulls up to the Organization's HQ, and out steps a tall woman doing her best impression of a small, harried teenager. She's still got the white wool furred coat on, sure, as well as slacks and low heels, but her hair is slowly falling out of its pinned state, curly locks brushing her shoulders and braving the wind to stick up out of her head, and she's wearing a pair of cat-eye glasses that keep slipping down her nose. Mostly it's just the nearly pouty expression on her face.
Her flight was delayed. She had to sit in an airport for far longer than anyone should ever have to, in her humble opinion. The food available to her was shit, but there is only so long one can subsist on airplane peanuts, and so her stomach doesn't like her right now. She lost a contact. And then the airline lost her luggage, so all she has is the extra change of clothes in her carry on and no different shoes.
And she's jetlagged all to hell.
And she's back in Chicago, in the States, where she really isn't sure she really wants to be, seeing as she's wanted in more than a few of them. Besides, she was enjoying Russia.
But here she is. On the sidewalk. In front of a building that looks pretty much exactly like any other building in this part of Chicago. Oh right, and there's a cabbie behind her, waiting to be paid. Yes. Of course.
She turns around, digging some money out of her purse (thank god she'd remembered to get her freakin' money dollarized and all, after the various hijinks). She meticulously counts out exact change (hey, she's not loaded, here), then gives it to the impatient cabbie with a bit of a sneer; he drives off with an equal one.
She sighs, looking up at the building once again, then dubiously at the entrance. To just waltz in, or what? More instructions would have been nice. A permanent address would have been nice. Mutter grumble, burn down the building.
Her flight was delayed. She had to sit in an airport for far longer than anyone should ever have to, in her humble opinion. The food available to her was shit, but there is only so long one can subsist on airplane peanuts, and so her stomach doesn't like her right now. She lost a contact. And then the airline lost her luggage, so all she has is the extra change of clothes in her carry on and no different shoes.
And she's jetlagged all to hell.
And she's back in Chicago, in the States, where she really isn't sure she really wants to be, seeing as she's wanted in more than a few of them. Besides, she was enjoying Russia.
But here she is. On the sidewalk. In front of a building that looks pretty much exactly like any other building in this part of Chicago. Oh right, and there's a cabbie behind her, waiting to be paid. Yes. Of course.
She turns around, digging some money out of her purse (thank god she'd remembered to get her freakin' money dollarized and all, after the various hijinks). She meticulously counts out exact change (hey, she's not loaded, here), then gives it to the impatient cabbie with a bit of a sneer; he drives off with an equal one.
She sighs, looking up at the building once again, then dubiously at the entrance. To just waltz in, or what? More instructions would have been nice. A permanent address would have been nice. Mutter grumble, burn down the building.