#regina 002

Most people in their late twenties would likely be pleased to see their sister in the local McDonald’s during a lunch break. Most people would probably sit down beside her and have a normal conversation -- talk about her day, or loved ones, or whether she’d stolen the cute v-neck jumper she’s wearing from your wardrobe. Most people would use it as a good excuse to remind themselves that, although prone to bickering and admittedly being two very different people, that siblings will usually have your best interests at heart.

Far from most people, and certainly by no means mature, Grace chews angrily on a paper wrapper as she glares at Regina from her booth. Being pissed off when it comes to the middle-Daly daughter is an easy task, made more so by a promotion that should have rightfully been hers and the consequential effect (including, but limited to, Regina being even more insufferable than usual). Lining the spit-sodden missile up into her straw, she exhales a huff of air which sends her makeshift blow-dart shooting across the aisle. The white, mushy glob lands neatly in the centre of her Regina’s forehead and receives a pleased half-laugh, half-sneer from the eldest sister. A second projectile follows, and then a third, until she catches the glare of an elderly woman nearby and is forced to remind herself that she’s both in public and in her work uniform.

WIthout invitation, she picks up her tray and moves over to her newfound target’s table, sitting down heavily opposite Regina as the twist of a grin cuts across her face. “Give me your gherkin.”

   Any other time Boris might seem out of place, but with the sky on the verge of daybreak and a newspaper in his hand, the only other thing he’d need to complete the picture was a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, he’d never been a fan of the stuff, and had forgone it, for a simple thermos filled with tea. Just enough to keep him company while he waited for the object of his attention that morning.

   Boris didn’t have any reason to believe that she’d pass by him in this particular courtyard, other than his own research and intuition. He’d been watching her long enough, and studying her methods, to know the way she preferred to get in to find her current assignment, and how she left. And if he was right, she’d be passing by his position any minute.

   Almost counting down the seconds in his head, he turned a page of the newspaper he wasn’t quite reading, and to the very last second, there she was. Looking as put together as she always did, none the wiser that there was one less person in the world thanks to her hands. And with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips he called out to her, without taking his eyes away from the paper, “Enjoy yourself tonight?”