Camille Montes, post-Quantum of Solace, That Bar Place (potentially Take One)
(do you think they'll sleep now?
I don't think the dead care about vengence)
The door opens, and a woman walks in. A tall woman, a slender one; normally, a graceful one, but today her carriage is stiff. There is a scrape on her face, still red, and she smells of fuel.
Bruises on her neck, the imprints of a man's fingers.
Bruises on her back, the kind that won't appear until tomorrow but they are still aching. Glass in her back, but it's doubtful if she's noticed.
(I keep thinking, he's dead, now what?)
It's also doubtful if she's noticed that she's in a bar at the end of the universe, and not the train station.