[center][i]40,000 feet above, en route to New York[/i]

[hider=Inside a cramped compartment][img]http://www.freerangekids.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/airplane-bathroom.jpg[/img][/hider]


[color=lightblue]"Shit."[/color] 

The slim cylinder of paper and tobacco dropped from inbetween slender fingers to fall into the puddle of toilet water, extinguishing the small flame that had been burning. Ryan shakes her right hand, ashes sliding off her fingers to the ground below. Her fault, really, her mind had been wandering as it so often did when on an airplane, what else did one do to combat the boredom than get lost in their own mile-a-minute thoughts? Ryan was well aware of the risks involved with smoking on an airplane, a fine and handcuffs upon landing was just the tip of an iceburg; either way it was a risk she needed to take. It had been hours since her last cigarette, and that was too long a period. 

It didn't help matters that the person she was sat next to was one of those old people who liked to make conversation about their lives, as if they took inspiration from Forrest Gump and the airplane is their new bus stop bench. There was a limit to how engaged a person could pretend to be, and even Ryan, noted for almost saint-like patience when conversing with people in love with their own voice, couldn't stand more than a few minutes next to them. Let alone two and a half hours. 

The only thing Ryan wanted to do on the flight, other than sneak a cigarette - that had gone so well - was to have a drink - perhaps a glass of vodka poured from those fancy small glasses - and then to sleep; after engaging the flight attendant in mild conversation of course, to act the part. There were three flight attendants, but only one that mattered, the one that took care of Ryan's section of the plane. She had been in this field for ten years now, never married, no children, a love of travel got her in the door and having no other goals in life kept her there. And that was just information Ryan was able to get when asking for a pillow earlier. 

People were easy. For the most part they're just happy to have someone listen and smile and nod. It was smoking in the bathroom of an airplane, that was the hard part. 

[color=yellow]"Miss? Miss, are you alright?"[/color] A knocking at the door, the saccharine voice of Sam the flight attendant. [color=yellow]"We'll be landing shortly, you need to return to your seat."[/color] The voice sounded through the door. Good. She didn't smell smoke. Not yet. 

[color=lightblue]"How much longer, Sam?"[/color] Ryan called back, putting on her friendly voice. That was good, Ryan was friends with this flight attendant now. The voice is such an easy tool, so handy in subtle manipulations. 

[color=yellow]"Forty five minutes, says the captain."[/color]

[color=lightblue]"Still time left for the mile high club, Sam."[/color] As Ryan said that, she grabbed at the silver ring on her right pinky finger, looking herself over in the mirror as she did so. 

[color=yellow]"Miss?"[/color] Sam's response was expected, but it was less confusion in the tone and more consideration. 

It didn't matter anyway, Ryan flushed the ruined cigarette and opened the door back out into the flight. [color=lightblue]"Don't worry about it."[/color] Ryan smirked at the still confused Sam, giving the flight attendant a quick touch on the shoulder before returning to her seat to hear about grandkids and the Vietnam war or something equally as pointless. At least they were landing soon. 

~

[i]New York[/i] 

[color=yellow]"That's bad for your health, you know."[/color]

A trail of smoke wafted into the air as Ryan blew out another drag before tossing the cigarette over the balcony railing to the ground below. Irresponsible perhaps, but what difference would it make really.  It was nice to be able to enjoy a cigarette without fear of making headlines. So sensitive over matters of airplanes, these people were. 

But it was true. Cigarettes were bad for her health. And yet, Ryan couldn't care less. There war far more dangerous things out there, things that could kill you much faster. And Ryan would know. Stepping back into the hotel room, Ryan said nothing as she checked her watch and headed towards the door, grabbing her blazer from the chair it was draped over. Now it was time for business. 

[color=yellow]"You're leaving? Are you serious right now?"[/color]

[color=lightblue]"Don't want to miss your flight."[/color] Ryan's parting words. She'd slip her blazer on in the elevator. 


Outside, in the cool Manhattan air, Ryan lit up another cigarette and started walking. New York was a shithole. She missed her shithole. She missed Chicago, where the people weren't so fake and there was a constant danger looming in the air. And the pizza was better. New York was a shithole. Her destination was in walking distance, and even if it wasn't, Ryan liked to walk the sidewalks in the urban areas. It was perfect for listening to life. 

Ryan drew her hat low, obscuring her eyes, when she entered the abandoned building and was led forward by the man in black. Of course he was in black. Bad guys always wore black in the movies. And no doubt about it, the man was not a good guy. The door opened and the first thing Ryan took note of was the three others already in the room. 

[color=lightblue]"Tony Montana, Casey Ryback, and Acid Burn walk into a bar..."[/color] Ryan muses, just loud enough so the others could hear before stepping towards the furthest wall to lean against, hat still pulled low. [/center]