INTERPOL Headquarters - Lyon, France

[can_finish_them]

Outside the building, a woman with bobbed golden hair is lounging nonchalantly against the wall, chain-smoking.

She doesn't seem to have noticed the appalled looks she's getting from the staff, but then Kaidy generally doesn't notice that sort of thing.

She'd quite like it if her mother finished her meetings before she finishes this packet of cigarettes, though.

Comments

[redintheledger]

If the blonde presents an image of expensive, confident understatement, then the redhead is a study in pretty anonymity. Her clothes are nice. Her shoes are heels, with a heavy strap, but in a place like this, heels are normal. Fitted jacket with wide sleeves, her hair caught in a chignon, a suitcase that doesn't look as heavy as it actually is.

"Are you waiting for someone?" she asks. Voice low, accent Parisian.

[can_finish_them]

They look about the same age and, if one of them weren't in heels, they'd be about the same height, too.

She surveys the newcomer mildly through a faint plume of smoke.

"My mother, actually." Her diction is perfect: educated and effortlessly upper-class English, voice deep and always just a hint amused. "We're alleged to be having lunch - business permitting, of course."

[redintheledger]

"Of course," she echoes, but with a bit of a smile. Schedules and plans do have a habit of not eventuating.

"You may not be in luck. Everyone I've talked to today has been running around like crazy."

[can_finish_them]

"Damn." She taps out the ash, looking rather wry. "I may need to find some more cigarettes, then."

She smokes extra-longs; Natasha should feel free to make of that as she will.

"And possibly another packet for my mother, if things really drag on."