Belladonna was a piss-awful name for a cruise ship. Stuck at sea in a metal box, whole thing swaying so hard the centrifugal force would push the lunch right out of your stomach- and plastered over every wall, in gilded cursive, is vomit-and-suffocate plant. Nice, nice. Exactly what you want to be thinking about, someone poisoning your complimentary buffet food.
First thing they tried, actually.
But it had been Fox who suggested they put the quiet approach on the back burner- try something more direct, more certain, a little closer to port. Made it less likely to catch any collateral, and more likely that the prick would actually die, given that he was often so seasick he couldn't eat enough to vomit. Well, it was easier to dodge a meal than a bullet. She knew that for fucking certain.
Formal night, apparently. At the fancy restaurant near the front of the ship, with the marble counters and the sterling silver cutlery, and the add-on charge that was probably more than half the bloody rooms. She was dressed in a moss green jacket with a white shirt and tie- a little ill-fitting, given her stature, but nice enough to not earn her any strange looks from the restaurant's more discerning guests as she made her way through to the back.
Table 9 was booked for half past seven- but, due to a previously unforeseen quirk in the booking process, it had been booked by two different groups: the dogs, and their target.
First thing they tried, actually.
But it had been Fox who suggested they put the quiet approach on the back burner- try something more direct, more certain, a little closer to port. Made it less likely to catch any collateral, and more likely that the prick would actually die, given that he was often so seasick he couldn't eat enough to vomit. Well, it was easier to dodge a meal than a bullet. She knew that for fucking certain.
Formal night, apparently. At the fancy restaurant near the front of the ship, with the marble counters and the sterling silver cutlery, and the add-on charge that was probably more than half the bloody rooms. She was dressed in a moss green jacket with a white shirt and tie- a little ill-fitting, given her stature, but nice enough to not earn her any strange looks from the restaurant's more discerning guests as she made her way through to the back.
Table 9 was booked for half past seven- but, due to a previously unforeseen quirk in the booking process, it had been booked by two different groups: the dogs, and their target.