Damien had just been in the middle of a rather scintillating conversation with a beautiful woman who might be the perfect nightcap for the evening when an explosion echoed through the room. Or at least that’s what seemed to have happened, if the sudden burst of noise was to be believed. It quickly became clear that what his ears perceived as a blast was a combination yells, screams, broken glass, and firing guns.
There was a polycarbonate blade tucked into a hidden pocket in his jacket, only for emergencies. He never used a gun in public; it could shatter his image and put him on the authorities’ radar. But he would be damned if some idiotic gunfight were to be his death sentence, and no amount of security or metal detectors would prevent him fro, being prepared for any eventuality.
Damien had just retrieved the thin, black blade and slipped it up his sleeve when someone was rushing toward toward, a gun pointed up at his face. Before he had a chance to do more than looked surprised and offended, Izidora dispatched the would-be assailant lightning fast. “Oui, je trouve cette tournure des événements assez déplaisante,” he replied, tone clipped but grateful as he began scanning for a way out. “S'ils sont intelligents, ils bloqueront les sorties. Nous devrions nous diriger vers la suite que j'ai réservée.”
Izidora’s eyes darted over to the man on the floor. The wound shouldn’t be lethal as long as he got help soon enough. It looks worst than it was. Almost killing people was something she had gotten rather good at. Displeasing. Damien had such a funny way of putting things. Izidora would have called this a clusterfuck.
“Yes, more than likely,” she said, continuing to use French. It was Damien’s mother tongue, after all. Easier for him to use. Izi’s police training was kicking in and she wondered if it looked different than how she usually behaved. Probably not. Overly protective was her normal with Damien.
“Go towards the kitchens. Stay down and, for once, do what I tell you when I tell you.” Her tone would have come off teasing in any other situations. They started to make it for the door to the kitchen, they would be able to make it to the stairwell from there and up to Damien’s room.
They’d almost made it when a stray bullet made right for Damien’s back. On instinct alone, Izidora shoved him aside and caught the bullet with her own arm. It was a flesh wound, she could tell from the start but it fucking hurt. “Az istenit!” She bit out and concerned shooting the person who had fired the bullet. She had no tolerance for sloppiness. Instead, Izidora turned and shoved Damien through the swinging door. “Move. I’m fine. Just move.”
