not very good at this whole subtlety thing [ p ] are you?

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    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; height: auto; margin-top:-10px; width:500px; font-size: 10px; color: white; text-align: justify]Lorna's heels clicked against the pavement, her eyes trailing down to the passport in her hands. She ran her fingers across the front of the small passport and prepared to cross the Belgian border in front of her. After crossing into Belgium from France, she immediately sought after a taxi that could drive her to her next destination: the hotel that she would be meeting with her superior at. After having little to no luck for five or so minutes, she decided to walk along the sidewalk further. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, making sure she wasn't being followed by any unwanted pursuers.


    'Gale, I want you in Belgium in five hours. Don't be late. '


    Mr. Sorvillo had been very adamant about making sure that Lorna wasn't a second too late for their little get-together. But why? Lorna had no idea; one minute she was enjoying life and getting drunk on champagne in Paris, the next she was getting a stern phone call from the head of her department at the CIA. She was assuming that she was being assigned another mission, however, she could never tell with Mr. Sorvillo. He was the kind of man who loved spontaneity; Lorna didn't, she was more of a fan of carefully planned out actions rather than instinct.


    The brunette shook her head, clearing away her stray thoughts and focusing on the task at hand: getting to the hotel in a timely manner. Her head was depending on it.


    [ urg sorry its kinda bad ]


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