s.c no longer accepting
catalina cisneros.
THE NAME HAD BEEN REPETITIVE in the alliance's seemingly endless stream of data. despite SEVERAL missing pieces of the puzzle that was the spy woman, the bigger picture remained clear: the competition had arrived. lysandra kept what dr. moore had given as advice at the forefront of her mind; non associates were either for their cause or an obstacle and rarely did they BELIEVE in a something in between. while she wouldn't be expected to deal with the other woman herself if it so came to that, lys still felt a sickly dread deep down in the pit of her stomach like she'd swallowed DARK POISON.
NO, SHE HADN'T BEEN THROWN out of her depth to terminate her... but it wasn't as though surveillance had been any more desirable of an assignment. if not for the rainfall in NEW YORK that autumn evening pelting down in fat globs, beating down on the little black umbrella she carried, perhaps there would have been less complaint. her vintage CESAR PACIOTTIS were taking on water and quickly, chilling her to the bone, and shrugging off the idea of any warmth that her trench had been meant to provide. hurry up. the impatient thought floats up into her mind the way that the steam from the nearby gutter billows out, the underground warmer than the fall air.
THE SHEER AMOUNT OF TRAFFIC the sidewalk across from the taxi stop offered even in the downpour, allowed her loitering on her cellphone to appear more genuine and for a moment it was. just as she as a gloved thumb danced across the keyboard to apologize for the two missed calls she'd purposely ignored from leon's number, the yellow taxi she'd been awaiting pulled up directly opposite where she stood. lysandra's eyes flicked up momentarily to catch sight of catalina's exit from the vehicle, her gaze TRACKING her every move before she slid her phone back into her breast pocket. there you are.
@catalinacisneros










