Not terrible

[Oriena]

"How quaint."
She plucked the card from his fingers with a grin, then stood to slide it in the back pocket of her jeans. At some point Kat had delivered Mikhail's drinks order, and though Ori had ignored the offer they knew her habits well enough. Another glass of vodka slid across the worn tabletop alongside the rest.

"Watch that for me, Mik."


Kolomov's Yakuza contacts had finally arrived, and although her eyes flickered back the pool table, she said nothing. At another table, Scarface's Mexican friend had already departed. If he was conducting business right under the Syndicate's nose, he didn't have long before Yun burrowed her claws in; especially now his table was empty. She winked at the poor little lamb on her way out.

In the fresh air outside she fired up her Wallet, leaning against the plastered billboards that fronted the hole's exterior. It rang for a while, during which time Ori massaged her sore shoulder. Then the thump of music from her club deafened the speaker. Carmen's scratchy voice answered, murmured words lost in the din, until she obviously went into the back office and everything quietened.

"Carmen. No, no, Carmen, fucking shut it. Change of plan."