@ib00-28
“There’s no way you’re going to get in there tonight,” he had called over to the woman, the street devoid of cars – but full of people, all lined up to try their luck at getting into one of the most expensive nightclubs in the city. Vital had hovered on the fray, seeming to study those who had fallen into line, as well as those who had gone straight to the bouncers to see if their name might magically appear on the list with the help of some Benjamins. “Not even three hundred bucks and a bit of thigh is going to make those bouncers look away, I bet.” Unlike her, he wasn’t on any mission or had any purpose – it was exactly the opposite, in fact, just yet another way for him to kill time, most likely on his own it seemed.
“But if you promise to get me that gold leaf-lined chocolate dessert at Serendipity for Thursday night, I can get you in.”
“How can you be so sure? I might have something in my sleeve.” I had something in my sleeve, that is until nature decided that the agent playing the bouncer had to eat a street sandwich full of rotten mayo. The words danced on Gaby’s lips as she blew a bubblegum. Things were easier when Napoleon and Illya were around, not in some God forsaken town chasing THRUSH agents. Solo missions weren’t the funniest—especially this one consisting in planting a chip on a small drug dealer’s phone and leaving. “Look,” The mechanic sighed between blowing another bubble and chewing the rubbery cinnamon flavored gum.
“I’m not sure why people are attracted to food with gold. It doesn’t enhance the flavor, it has zero nutritional value and in the end all you’re getting is something shiny in the toilet.” Frowning a bit at the girls getting dismissed by the bouncer was the ultimate sign of resignation. She would never get in, even covered in Dior from head to toe. “Whatever floats your boat. If you get me in I’ll pay for your shiny piece of chocolate and by God I hope you’re not talking about their prinzregententorte. That would be an insult to Rottenhöfer.”
