#riv.

It was after hours at Jones Supply Co., and Violet was the only person remaining, She wasn’t usually one to linger (perks of being the boss), but today there was a handoff to complete and she preferred to see to those herself. It was a rush order, albeit a small one, and she was still waiting for the corporation’s delivery person — the tyranny of London traffic imposed itself on everything, including illicit firearms sales — when the mob’s gofer arrived. “Come in, come in,” Violet ushered the woman into the plush visitor’s area at the front of the office. “The goods are stuck in traffic, unfortunately, but they should be here in the next ten minutes.” She shrugged, annoyed. “In the meantime, make yourself at home. Want a drink?”

i wonder all the time,