“Yeah, of course.” Amelia remained nervous despite everyone around her looking otherwise. But she had a right to be, given the circumstances, and her accent becoming just a little bit worse was proof of that.  She reached inside her jacket with one of her hands, but just as quickly, she found herself staring at the barrel of various guns all pointed at her. Amelia froze for a moment before she managed to speak. “No, Marcel, I—I ’m just grabbing a small piece of paper!"

He hadn’t even flinched, standing still with his arms crossed as every last one of his men kept their weapons trained on the young woman. Marcel gave a quick nod and two of the men put their weapons away, quickly moving on Amelia to grab her arms.

“Marcel, no—"

She was assuming the worst, but much to her relief, they were simply searching her, albeit the rough manner they went about it was not the least bit pleasing. After a minute or so, one of them said something in French, and they both left her alone, pushing her to the side. The taller man handed Marcel the note he had taken from Amelia’s pocket. 

“That’s the original order you placed,” she whispered, almost afraid to speak, “I’ll take it back to them and they’ll know what to do, okay? You don’t need to worry about me.”

Melanie wasn’t sure whether that last statement made her appear suspicious in the eyes of Marcel and his crew. She silently cursed at herself for the mistake as she waited to finally be released.