days of future past the ring of my asshole

[chopshopsuplex]

So she's learning Russian. So one of her...partners has been schooling her in the 'proper ways of the Russian'-- so what? It's still cold as hell, in the heart of the matter let alone the weather, and the only great thing they've got going for them in this area is the vodka.

And even that's starting to run out. Grease, grit, car parts scalped out in her bare hands? Fine. Running, fighting for her life, coding messages? That's what she signed up for.

"I did not sign up for camping," Gaby mutters to herself, goggle covered browns taking in the scene, the expanse of white that surrounds her, nearly blinds her.

It isn't camping so much as....rugged wild backpacking this time. Now, yes, maybe she'd gotten a little caught up in the riches and class and luxury of a spy's life but this is a rude wake up call.

If she could just get to the village she's supposed to find, then all would be well and her nose and toes and everything inbetween can warm up.

Up ahead, she spots the bumbling form of a man easily cutting through the snow.

"Ah, excuse me!" Gaby calls in her cobbled together Russian. "Can you help me get to the next village? I believe I might be lost." Funny enough, she won't have to play too hard at being the lost tourist this time around.

(No harder than with their target in the coming mission)

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[chopshopsuplex]

"I'm not fond of this dance. I like wrestling much better. These sumo moves are too clumsy, there's no movement to it."

She can concede that much. Brown eyes never leave the slick motions of his knife, as if the metal slithers between his fingers and through the air itself, like it can hardly touch it.

Gaby doesn't want to be in the middle of that.

So she opens her mouth:

"Ah? No, ma'am, this man isn't robbing me! He's a street performer. Come and see for yourself."

The oldest, lamest trick in the book, accompanied by a pointed finger behind his shoulder. That's the moment she takes to pivot on her foot back the other way.