Marked

[Toaster]

It was dark in the lobby, the lights dimmed to a minimum and the - apparently recently - shattered windows covered by plates of steel. Clearly Moretti's 'spook' had had its desired effect. Her eyes adjusting to the low light, Olivia glanced around the lounge. Chairs lined the walls, a few small stands with magazines interspersed between them. Apart from a few bullet holes in the walls, it almost looked like a waiting room at your average dentist's office. Only a few of the seats were taken, most by burly men, clearly of backgrounds involving intense physical labor. Some stared straight ahead, ignoring their surroundings. A few instead gazed at her, mustering her up an down. None of them looked like serious mercenaries to her; instead they just appeared to be miners-out-of-work looking for some source of income.

Her observations were interrupted by a loud, single-note laugh. Olivia turned to face its source, sitting in the far corner of the room. There sat a man, dressed in a long tan trenchcoat, legs crossed over each other, his hands clasped behind his head. A huge grin was plastered over his face, his eyes gleaming at her.

"Hah!" He laughed again. "If it ain't the brown mouse herself!" Lithely, the man jumped to his feet and, with a slight skip in his step, strode over to where Olivia remained standing, glaring at him.

"Sables aren't mice," Olivia replied, her voice far less jovial than his. "What are you doing here, Beige?" Stopping short just in front of her, the man spread his arms out wide, as if to invite her for an embrace.

"Come now, Olivia! We're all friends here! Hah! Isn't that right, Bill?" He shouted over her shoulder at the room's other occupants. No one reacted. Accepting that she was not about to give him a hug, he dropped his arms and laughed again. Olivia stood and stared at him, waiting for him to finish, annoyance plain in her face. The man - Beige - swept up one arm again and clasped her by the shoulder, giving her a friendly shake that made Olivia want to draw a knife and sever his hand. "I'm here for the same reason you are!" Olivia involuntarily raised an eyebrow in surprise. Beige laughed again. "Boredom!"

"For God's sake," Olivia muttered and brushed his hand off her shoulder, stepping past him to take a seat in an empty chair. The man followed her, dropping into the seat next to her and throwing up an arm across her back. She rolled her eyes and shifted as far away from him as possible.

"What would Kelly think if she saw you like this?" Olivia asked matter-of-factly. "Or did she come to her senses and leave you?" Beige guffawed at the jest, slapping his leg with his free hand. A strand of his blond, slicked-back hair fell into his face, bouncing up and down in step with his laughter.

Quieting down again, he replied. "No, no, she's still quite mad! Hah! In fact," he scooted a little closer to Olivia, closing the distance she had tried to maintain between them, "we're married!"

Olivia raised a hand and grabbed the arm he had put around her shoulders by the wrist, lifting it off of her with mock gentleness.

"Please send her my condolences," she replied, sarcasm virtually dripping from her lips.

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Olivia Sable