facade.

NADIA TEHRANI / 25 / AGENT 73 ❝ she was like the moon—part of her was always hidden away. ❞

[martinmcdonagh]

[stevetrevror]

[nadiatehrani-blog]

agenteleven:

@nadiatehrani​

     Whatever the fuck was happening at the gala was spiraling out of control. After the comms went dead, Vivian and Nadia had split up. It made the most sense. She returned to the main room to make sure Ana had backup and McGee was being watching. Nadia… she wasn’t so sure. All she knew was that her friend was nowhere to be found. Something wasn’t right. Maybe it was just a gut feeling – something Vivian had finely tuned after years of being an investigative journalist. And then it all made sense as a video sequence fired up. The excited clapping of the gala guests made her stomach churn. Whatever was about to play on the screen was not good news. It hadn’t been on the itinerary for the night. 

Dead. An UMBRA agent dead and plastered on a screen for the whole party to see. She hadn’t been particularly close with said agent, but one of them was all of them. Her eyes flitted around the party trying to take a headcount. Still no Nadia and now, she noticed, no Lise either. She made a beeline for Ana, taking her hand as she looked for the quickest way out of the ballroom. McGee could go fuck himself for getting UMBRA into the whole mess. Mission or not, Vivian no longer cared what happened to him. The entire operation tanked. 

Somewhere in the bustle of getting out of the building, she lost Ana. A lot of shoving and pushing and most annoyingly, yelling, had Vivian’s head a mess. Her eyes scanned the crowd – each agent recognized was ticked off her mental list. Pacing through the crowd in angry, determined strides, she saw Nadia. Pushing through the horde of people, she made her way towards her friend. A few elbows and shoves finally got her to the other agent. “Nadia.” Her American accent was gone now. It could go to hell with the rest of the mission. “Are you okay?” She grabbed the agent by the shoulders and studied her intently. A cold feeling of dread crept up her spine when she noticed the bit of blood staining her clothing. Even though Nadia was upright and walking, the sight scared Vivian. “What the fuck happened to you?” 

She’d somehow managed to get Lise out of the Nerve Center and towards safety---or, at least, the outside of the hotel, which was still better than being in the maze of hallways and the creeping feeling that someone was watching her every move. Although Nadia was not one to forget a mission objective, protecting McGee had fallen to below the bottom of her list of priorities. If he hadn’t contacted UMBRA for a job, none of this would have ever happened---Lise would’ve been okay, an agent wouldn’t be dead, and they wouldn’t have been jeopardized in more ways than she could imagine.

When someone caught her shoulders in the midst of the crowd of panicked guests ( why? what happened? what’s going on? ), she flinched, her posture tensing and hands curling into fists. She relaxed when she realized it was Vivian. “Thank God it’s only you.” She let out a sigh of relief, releasing her fingers. “I---- Lise. I found Lise.” She took another shaky breath. “She’s...She got knocked out. Concussion, I think. I don’t know, I didn’t go to med school, but it looks bad, and it shouldn’t be like this, everything’s a fucking mess----”

She abruptly stopped, eyes scanning the chaos unfolding outside the hotel. “What happened? Why is everyone freaking out? Did someone else die? Was it any of us?” As soon as the words escaped her lips, dread did not just creep in---no, it hit her full force.

[nadiatehrani-blog]

agent-34:

His hand instinctively went to the gun tucked into the small of his back before mumbling something about not having his gun anymore, not wanting her to be able to strip him of anything this time around – gun and pride alike, even if his moral compass hadn’t exactly pointed due north during the mission. Her words came with the usual side of indirect hostility that Sandro was more than well-acquainted with, and when she smiled, he couldn’t help but wonder which one was more permanently transfixed – her countenance or her tone, each one with its special brand of poison and corresponding honey. At one point or another, she’d teased him about her being on his mind so often. The truth, one that he’d only ever admit in the quietest voice at the back of his mind, was that he’d grown comfortable with despising her and all that she was. In his short time at UMBRA, she’d become a presence as increasing as she was unwelcome, and there were only ever two things he managed to accomplish with Nadia – arguing with her and wondering about her, each one fighting for dominance in his head and, at times, spilling out in the form of harsh glances and heated words. 

She was too sophisticated to be savage, too refined to be rough, too much to be nothing at all –  and he hated her more and more for it. He hated that she was committed to perfection, even in the face of disaster; if everyone else had succumbed to jumping ship, Nadia Tehrani would be the one to keeping to whatever idiotic oath she took to serve and protect, and he’d be the unlucky bastard who got dragged into a slow and painful death along with her.

If he didn’t die by her indirect hand, he’d surely die instead from the blatant guilt trip she was laying out for him to walk into. As though I couldn’t guilt myself enough. So, he sidestepped it as callously as he could, ignoring everything she’d said to offer instead, “It was found in Laurel Wiest’s pocket. You know, the governor with the anti-drug initiative funded by the old boy himself. One of his oldest friends. Or, sorry – one of his ‘old school chums.’” Sandro crossed his arms smugly over his chest, thankful for the opportunity to use the tidbit of crash course information to wipe away that self-satisfied smile from her face. “Figure if she’s lyin’ to such a good pal and jeopardizing his multi-million bankroll, she’d be lyin’ about other things too. Maybe even working against him. I’m thinkin’ we turn it into the Nerve Center, they monitor her and eventually arrest her and then we get the hell outta here.” As though spurred on by his own words, he reached for the gun tucked into his waistband, forgetting entirely that he’d lied to her about it not too long ago as it nearly slipped from his fingers upon retrieval. He set it on the small marble table behind him, not willing to hand it to her directly, before heading for the exit. 

The past few minutes were the longest he’d gone without insulting her in one way or another, without retorting as a means of natural defense, without drawing claws upon being freshly scratched himself. He disliked how alien the notion felt, and quickly reached for the only known remedy for such an affliction. “Come to think of it, Tehrani… I wouldn’t mind if you had nothin’ to do with it at all. For once, all your pretendin’ is fine by me,” he concluded pointedly, the statement undercut by the sudden hiccup that escaped him.

Caught off-guard by the sudden stream of information, stuck somewhere between being impressed and being irritated, she schooled her features into something less sour and something more indifferent. “----So you are good for something, after all,” she said after a moment, eyebrows raised in the surprise she couldn’t quite hide. Credit was given where credit was due. It was the closest he’d ever get to a compliment, and even then, there was the ghost of contempt. He just got lucky, he just found the right pieces to put together, to complete the puzzle but just not quite. 

“Laurel wouldn’t be the first. Most politicians are two-faced like that, saying one thing and doing something completely different. But it’s a lead, and she’s someone worth keeping an eye if she might be working against him. She wouldn’t be the only one lying to McGee about something, though, so don’t count your luck just yet. But better to be doing something than sitting around, waiting to get shot.” She’d never admit he was right out loud, but he was just that---the sooner they got out of here, the better. 

With that, she picked up the gun he’d left on the table, the sudden weight in her hand feeling a little like victory. What kind of agent would lose his gun, anyway? That was a lie she saw through the instant he said it. “You? Okay with what I’m doing? Miracles do exist!” she exclaimed facetiously. The more he tried to scratch underneath her carefully crafted facade, the more she’d resist. “And here I thought you finally got used to it.”  

[nadiatehrani-blog]

agent-34:

“Good thing I wasn’t askin’,” he retorted under his breath as he shrugged and followed her through the door, hating the action for all it was and all it represented. In this place and time, in this moment, in this falsified life of glamour and goners, he was forced to follow her, not only in his footsteps but conversation, too – in motion and mannerism alike. The gleam in her eye as she waltzed in the room, enjoying every moment of her elegance, told him one thing: that shedelighted in this world of masks, that she lived to spin and twirl and dance all along this stage made entirely of spotlight, champagne, and glass.

If her every movement was as precise and deadly as lightning, he wanted nothing more than to be the senseless thunder that scared her, and everyone else, away, left with nothing but shadow and rain.

He allowed a few seconds to pass after the door shut to speak, the nonchalance to his voice masking any trace of worry he held in the face of a compromised mission. “Hope whatever you left in here is somethin’ good enough to fight with. Your silver spoon’s only gonna take you so far.” The casual smirk at the double entendre only grew as he took a few uncommitted steps around the glorified closet. “I was thinkin’ I’d get one of the big oil guys high off their ass and see if they spill any secrets,” Sandro remarked with his trademark insouciance, retrieving the baggie and holding it up to her at eye-level. It almost amazed him, how confidently he could bluff and boast just to ensure some degree of annoyance from her, but she didn’t need to know the legitimate origin of the drug and he’d never deny the chance to irk her in some way or another. Besides, if the mission was compromised, he’d might as well go out knowing the last thing he accomplished was pissing off Nadia Tehrani. “Wanna join?”

“Silver? It’s platinum,” she countered without faltering, striding into the coatroom with the same grace she showed in the ballroom, a feat only accomplished by years of carrying herself in such a way. “And I can get as far as I’d like with or without it.” She spoke again without sparing him a glance, granting him the same dismissal as she’d given those before who had said the same remark as him---only in different forms. Jealousy was an ugly creature she’d fended off in the past; insults and snide comments were not one-size-fits-all, and she’d steeled herself against almost all of them.  

While she was sure Sandro was not jealous of her in the slightest, he scorned her, and she was prepared for that, too---after all, he would not have been the first.

“Speaking of fighting, I was thinking of borrowing your gun.” She glanced over him, flashing a sweet smile. “I doubt you could aim right now, anyway,” because I can tell you’ve had more than a couple shots at the open bar, “and they didn’t give any of the guests weapons other than the ones we could hide. Since everything’s going to shit, that was daft of them, wasn’t it?” Her job might have only been collecting intel and watching McGee, but how was she supposed to be prepared for anything that might come with a field mission if she wasn’t given anything else?

( Okay, yes, she had her fists, and she’d fight if it came down to it, but that was Sandro’s specialty, not hers. Everyone was allowed their preferences. )

“Sounds like a brilliant idea.” She shrugged, as if his suggestion to drug a potential informant didn’t faze her. What a stupid, stupid idea. A stupid idea that she doubted he’d actually go through with, unless she vastly underestimated his capacity for bad decisions. “I’ll watch you get some ‘big oil guy’ high---Jon Colby has a preference for cocaine---and listen to him talk shit about his associates and be so proud of the twenty-something he’s sleeping with this time while she’s really just in it for the money, and then he’ll go on about some new business investment-slash-project he’ll come up with when he’s high that’s doomed to fail, but he has so much money it won’t even cause a dent in his bank account.” Instead of blatantly telling him no, of giving him the satisfaction that he’d irritated that part of her that told her to focus on the mission, business at all times, she gave him all the reasons why it such a foolish decision wrapped up in a pretty bow of her own brand of superiority. Push and pull. The game they played was never going to end.

Besides, she already knew what Jonathan Colby, Texan oil tycoon, was like high---she had enough eyewitness accounts to prove it.

“And then I’ll pretend I had nothing to do with it.”

[nadiatehrani-blog]

agxnt-lxxviii:

“I’ve been around too many sparkly dresses. I think I’m going to barf.” The news that communications must have been down brought about a sense of relief, only to be marred by dread again. The very thought that they were like sitting ducks made Elle sweat a little. Out of all the agents she could find, she was kind of glad it was Tehrani. The mixture of emotions were quickly squashed, as Elle’s attitude began to revert to normal. 

Shaking her head, Elle looked in the direction of the ballroom. “I lost our target somewhere around the Norwegians. Never seen someone smile this bright all night, it’s borderline creepy.” The forger wasn’t in charge of making plans; her only area of field expertise was her uncanny ability to sweet talk a crowd. Because no one expected a rebel to smile this wide. “We should split up, try to find the others. I’m go talk to the eighty seven, touch base and we ‘ll meet up in the corner.”

“Oh, Irene Bjornson? She’s very...bright. Peppy. Polar opposite of her brother, it seems.” She shook her head. “No, we should go back into the ballroom and keep an eye on him, keep to our mission assignments, or at least stay together. Splitting up is dangerous with no comms---if either of us is in danger, how are we supposed to let each other know? This time, safety in numbers in better, especially since there’s no contingency plan. I want to find the others just as much as you, but we also can’t risk going off on our own without any idea of what’s out there. Whoever’s behind cutting out all the tech must also be looking for us while we’re running around blind.”

Gabrielle might disagree, but Nadia was one to play it cautious. Keeping an eye on McGee might yield some sort of information; maybe they weren’t looking for someone getting close to McGee, but someone using McGee to get to them. The game had changed, the stakes had been raised, and there was no telling who was next.

[nadiatehrani-blog]

liseniven:

Zahra was speaking, but trying to understand her felt like grasping at one raindrop in the middle of a thunderstorm. Lise didn’t want this. She wanted to sleep- being awake was too bright too much too fast too loud too much. Sleep was simple. She let herself be moved, but the movement sent her head reeling. 

-tore at his mask part of a tattoo black ink part of a swirl something ramming against her head falling-

Lise frowned. That was. Something. She wasn’t sure exactly what, not when her head felt like the inside of a snow globe. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to focus, to try and remember. Nothing stood out, except the tattoo. She tuned back in to what Zahra was telling her, the words a little less blurry now. 

“No.. shit?” She half-whispered half-slurred, reaching up a hand to gesture at her bloody face. “Jameson won’t. Like. That.” Zahra was panicking. Lise wasn’t good to look at, in this moment. Panicky-looking. It made sense, that she wouldn’t like it. “Hit. Group of. People, was a man with a..” The word escaped her, and all she could think of was to gesture at her own cheek.

Lise could feel her thoughts and words failing to make sense, just as she could hear blood dribbling out of her nose and ears, just as she could taste her heartbeat pulsing. It wasn’t right. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. God, she just wanted to sleep.

“Fuck what Jameson doesn’t like. We already hate each other, so why not add something else to the list?” That was perhaps more than she’d ever said on the subject, and more than she’d ever told Sandro to his face ( she was sure he’d gotten the message either way, though ).

Nadia’s mind raced as blood kept leaking from Lise’s ears and nose, as her closest friend seemed somewhere far, far away where she might fall asleep and never come back, as she gestured to her cheek to symbolize something. “A tattoo? Oh, God, who the hell are we dealing with?” Desperation started to creep into her voice, her pitch rising higher as the severity of the situation hit her. Her suspicions had been correct: It was more than one person, and it was enough manpower and skill to kill one agent, take down at least two, and God knew where the rest of them were.

“----Fucking set-up,” she muttered, blood staining her fingers as she edged a pillow underneath Lise’s head, spots of red staining the white pillowcase. Ripping tissues from a box tossed onto the floor, she wiped Lise’s face, determination set in her features. “Oh, no, no, no, you are not falling asleep on me. You have to stay awake, don’t close your eyes, stay with me.” 

We’re going to get you help, she almost said, but how could she? Comms were down, she had no idea where the fuck anyone was, and anyone she didn’t know could be an adversary. Lise was hardly in a condition to walk yet, and once she was, that would not be without struggling. 

[jtsgkdfajgsknsgkdgkr-deactivate]

colour me beige

#d9d4d0 - #b7a69d

[ezramason]

‘Be a Goddess among men,’ they told her. ‘No,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll be a Queen among Gods.’

freyja; goddess of beauty, sex, fertility, and war, death and sorcery. (via fenrvs)

[nadiatehrani-blog]

@agntrobinson​ @claralivng​

Her wig was now pulled up in a chignon at the nape of her neck; the last thing she needed was her hair being a distraction, of all things. She hadn’t seen Agent 45 and 37 since she ran into them on her way out of the ballroom, and while she wanted to believe they were doing rounds or still rubbing shoulders with the world’s wealthiest, she couldn’t help but suspect it wasn’t that simple. Someone was watching them now, someone who could bring the comms down, bring everything down. What if protecting Peter Mcgee had been a trap? What if he was just a prop, a puppet whose strings were controlled by an unknown puppeteer with unknown motives? 

After the mission had been compromised, Nadia assumed the worst, and as she turned a corner, her trepidation only grew. A trail of crimson could lead nowhere good, but before she reached the end, she nearly ran into Clara and Harry. “----Oh, thank god you’re alive.” Her voice filled with relief, her eyes darted around, watching for any signs of an immediate threat. “What the hell happened? Are you two okay?”

[nadiatehrani-blog]

liseniven:

Dull.

It was the first thing that Lise felt. 

Her eyelids didn’t seem to be. Working properly? She could manage to get them open a crack. It took a few tries for them to stay like that. Breathing. Breathing was. It was working, a little. Her tongue felt rubbery in her mouth, like it didn’t quite belong to her. 

First dull, and then. Fuck. Pain. She reached a trembling hand up to the back of her head, but let it fall back quickly with a hiss. Something was wrong here.

“Wh..” She tried, squinting with the effort. Someone else was in the room. Someone.. safe. “Zahra..?” That was right, she thought. Right enough.

@nadiatehrani

To her luck, the door to the Nerve Center was left ajar---whoever had left had left quickly. But it seemed all her luck ran out with that moment when her eyes fell on Lise’s body, blood trickling from her ears and nose. “Lise, so help me god, you better not be dead----” As she rushed over, the words came out shaky and rough, her practiced German accent slipping. What was the point, anyway? No one was around except for two unconscious agents and the silence of unreliable security cameras. 

Then her friend began to stir, trembling and disoriented, but still alive. So very, very much alive. “Thank god.” Relief washed over her---not enough to wash the dread away, but just enough for her to let out the deep breath she’d been holding---and she gently began to help Lise back into a sitting position. “You’re bleeding. Fuck.” Lise, glorious, calm, composed Lise, was now a tangle of battered nerves and battered bones, and Nadia felt her control slipping, too. “I’ll actually kill whoever did this. I’ll take Jameson’s gun, I don’t care, he probably can’t shoot right anyway! Oh, Lise, no----”

Who could’ve taken down two trained agents? Were they looking for one culprit or a team? Lise might not have been UMBRA’s favorite fighter, but she wasn’t unprepared. She should’ve won. “Do you remember anything?” asked Nadia softly, cutting her heated tangent off. “What do you need?”

[nadiatehrani-blog]

agent-34:

There were two worlds at play here: the haves and the have-nots, the envied and the envious, one half with the fingers wrapped around the trigger and the other with their palm pinned to the barrel. It was only a matter of time before a man like Peter McGee found himself on the other side of the very same gun he’d wielded for so long.

After the comms shut down, he’d shuffled into the coat room under the pretense of relieving the previous attendant, hoping to find secrets or cigarettes, or both, intermittently scratching at his freshly-shaven jawline with one hand while the other rifled through the pockets. After a few moments, the sudden awareness of another’s presence walking down the corridor of the room alerted him, the invisible string of fate that connected everyone vibrating like a plucked string and throwing him off his game. The footsteps neared, typing out a faint click-clack of Morse code – heels, he gathered – and rifled through one last pocket, finding a baggie of white powder and a scrap of paper. He took both before slipping  out the room to offer the best impression of an overeager attendant looking to make a quick buck. Annoy them just a bit, and they won’t pay you no mind. 

“Good evening, madam,” Sandro started, the polish to his voice as unfamiliar as it was short-lived upon recognizing the woman and, perhaps more importantly, hearing her and a curse he’d heard one or two times earlier. Were it not for the wandering eyes and curious ears near them, he was certain he would have cursed his luck at the sight of her, and so in spite of words, he let out a noise in between a hum and a laugh, without enough body to stop it from sounding cynical. “Enjoyin’ the evening?” The agent asked, swinging the door open with a gentle tap from his heel. With a nod to her hand, he snarked, “I hear congrats are in order.”

“I was beginning to wonder if this hotel had any security.” Nadia almost didn’t recognize the polished cadence of hotel staff forced to remain polite to entitled guests if not for the rougher tone at the edges---and the fact she’d given him a crash course on how to act at a five star hotel. While this world of opulence was one she’d felt comfortable in, a world that had been second to breathing, it clearly wasn’t the same for him, and for as much as Sandro was the bane of her existence, the success of a mission depended on the success of everyone involved. There was no way in hell she’d let him botch his first one. Not on her watch. A smug smile slid onto her face at his attempt to keep his composure; she was sure if he had his way, he’d be cursing her presence. 

“Much more than you, I’m sure.” The drugs in his hand must have only been a distraction for wandering eyes rather than his mind; he wouldn’t be so stupid to get high on the job, would he? “Depends on who you’re asking,” she replied serenely, smile still intact, though it lost some of its smugness and her voice carried an undercurrent of irritation. “By the way, I left something in my coat back there.” She gestured towards the coatroom with a slender hand, already walking the short distance towards the door. Although the corridor was mostly empty save for lovers surreptitiously escaping the ballroom, passing guests, and the VP of some motors company on the phone, it wasn’t enough to talk freely about the chilling shift in mission direction. 

“Mind if I take a look?” Though she posed her question as a request, she spoke with the air of someone used to getting her way---a trait both she and her cover identity shared. It was partially to remain in character for the sake of any eavesdroppers, but more so to get on his nerves.

[arthms]

Valentino S/S Haute Couture Show 2012.

[riverdaleremix]

[nadiatehrani-blog]

claralivng:

Clara couldn’t help but let out a scoff after hearing the other Agent’s words, shaking her head before she looked at the sculpture again. Inside May’s mind, the girl was wondering if she could’ve done something like it and would’ve been considered art, or was it all about the name attached to the sculpture? It was like that with a lot of things, she came to recognise, mostly through the lens. “Perhaps it’s meant to mean… well, nothing. And everything, y’know? I’m not really an art person. I prefer photography.”

“Photography’s still art, darling.” Nadia gave a distracted hum that Helena might when she was disinterested in a conversation, but unlike Helena, Nadia was not thinking of business meetings and press conferences. No, her mind was on the troubling broadcast followed by their comms shutting down. Completely. To think all she’d been assigned to do was look pretty and be charming! ( Well, more than that, but that was the base. ) “Also, I’ve already complained to the front desk about the quality of room service and lack of security. Have you heard from any of the other employees about getting that fixed?” As in: Have you heard from any other agents since shit hit the fan? What do you know about the breach?

[nadiatehrani-blog]

alahelena:

catherine hughes, in romy’s perspective, had certainly made an impression. any time the young girl saw her little social circle disperse or fall into subjects of which she could not make any input, she let herself drift off into the room, a fresh glass of champagne in her hand by the time she reached a new circle she could make her way into. romy herself didn’t mind champagne, but the rate of new glasses she held in her hand suggested that catherine had a penchant for the bubbly drink. it was unclear whether catherine was drinking because she wasn’t much interested to be at the gala, or simply because she liked the taste of the drink. nonetheless, she still noticed the looks exchanged between some guests that clearly judged the younger girl and her innocence.

there had been few moments of repos as she worked the room until now, where she settled at one of the tables with a new glass– though filled with water rather than alcoholic beverages. if she’d not been on a mission, she likely would have been nursing a glass of wine. though, of course, this was not the case. she settled back into her seat, looking over her glass of water as she took a sip while studying the room.

truthfully, nadia wasn’t surprised by the ominous turn of events. simply protecting and gathering intel for a wealthy man seemed to good to be true---there were easy missions, and then there were too easy. the latter always seemed to derail at some point, the illusion of security shattered just when you thought things were going smoothly. 

still, she didn’t like it one bit.

because they’d been kept in the dark, picking through threads of conversation and searching through rooms for anything that could point towards a threat on mcgee ( or them ), nadia had no real idea of who or what had put them in danger. had them compromised. idle gossip was not enough to go off on; the CEO claiming mcgee stole his investors could have been concealing an ulterior motive just as easily as mcgee’s most trusted business partner. or, perhaps, there was something far more worse at work than a client’s paranoia and suspicion. 

when she spotted a shock of red hair at a table, she took a seat next to agent 98, charming smile still in place. good. she needed to check on romy after the chilling message relayed over comm. she needed to know someone was okay. “catherine! i was just talking to your father. so nice to see you again, i didn’t know if i’d get the chance to catch up with all these people!” she nodded slightly towards the exit. “join me outside, would you? i could really use a change of scenery.”

[nadiatehrani-blog]

agxnt-lxxviii:

with @nadiatehrani 

The comms are down. That realisation made worry pool in the pit of Elle’s stomach. She almost dropped the tray of crab entrees, excusing herself from the room immediately. She examined the earpiece close; surely it must have been just her device. The others looked…almost at ease, and it was making her dread even more frightening. 

Till she saw the other person arrive her way; if it was a guest, then she would be so screwed. Stashing the earpiece inside her pocket, she straightened her back. But the figure in the red dress was a friend, not a foe. “Oh..just you. Good. I uhh…I think I might have broken my earpiece…don’t tell anyone.”

The show must go on.

Although the lost connection caused dread to twist in the pit of her stomach, there was no excuse to panic or lose direction. She didn’t have a back-up plan---yet---but she did know it was imperative to figure out where the rest of the agents were now that they couldn’t communicate over their earpieces. When she spotted a familiar blonde waitress, she excused herself and wove through the crowd.

“Who did you think I was? A holier-than-thou trust fund baby?” That was, in fact, exactly who she was. Her tone lost its playfulness as her expression grew more serious, lips set in a thin line instead of the brilliant smile she’d worn for most of the night. “Mine’s not working, either, which means all of ours must be down. Something’s gone very wrong, but I don’t know what. You have any idea? Have you seen McGee?”