A purposeful movement at the front of the alley catches her attention, and — as though summoned — Kate’s head peers around the corner, eyes flicking across the scene rapidly. Yelena ducks a bit closer to the Tracksuit, hoping for another thirty seconds.
(Too slow. But only because of the idiot Slav.)
“Why are you following her?” she asks, this time in (admittedly) rusty Polish.
“You’re fucking crazy, bro!” he wails, in English. And loudly. Kate steps further down the alleyway, in concern, because of course she does, and Yelena admits (temporary) defeat with a sigh, stepping away from the man and leaning to the side to give Kate a cheerful little wave.
“Hi,” she sings. “I’m just finishing up.”
“Yelena? Are you wearing gl— ” She cuts herself off, lips pressing into a thin line as she looks back over her shoulder, but then steps further in, both movements quick. When she speaks again, it’s a quiet, but urgent sort of hiss. “What did you do to him? It’s the middle of the day!”