Elayra snorted at Miles’ complaints about an ‘aching back,’ watching him closely as he readjusted himself with his back once more against the seat, putting himself in an even easier reach.
	“We’re all ears.” Dagger still in hand, she finally sat as far back as the cluttered seat allowed. She held the weapon in her lap, an antsy finger tapping against the hilt. She cast a glance to the car door and the rain-streaked window, the patter of it on the glass vying to be heard over Miles’ voice. She took a deep, slow breath, trying to calm the claustrophobia the cluttered car aroused.
	“How would [i]I[/i] know the place?” she snapped, her voice a bit more clipped and impatient than the situation warranted.
	When he reached for his coat, her grip on the dagger shifted and her muscles tensed, ready to act if he pulled out another weapon. She watched him suspiciously. She cast a glance to Ghent, checking for any signal that the items he retrieved were an imminent threat, but he seemed untroubled by them. All the same, she remained ever on edge as Miles gave them their orders.
	She stared at him for a short second, her brows furrowed, then realization of [i]why[/i] dawned on her. She started to nod, but then looked to Ghent at his question.
	“[i]Seriously[/i], Featherhead?” she asked, her voice as condescending as her expression.
	She heaved a sigh as Miles explained himself, her attention once more on the man. She glanced to Ghent again at his uncharacteristic silence. The worry in his eyes was far from encouraging. 
	“I’ve broken into Forsaken-infested stores with alarms and guards I guarantee would make your police run home with their tails between their legs,” she tried to reassure him. “Breaking a window and running will be a piece of eatmay cake.”
	Her full attention turned to Miles when, with a small flick of his thumb, a flame sprouted from a small device in his hands. More of this world’s use of science, she presumed. But her awe faded at the stench of the smoke, the smell similar enough to the stale odor clinging to the upholstery for her to recognize it.
	She, too coughed as the foul smell filled the car with the white trail snaking from the cigarette’s cherry. Frowning in disgust and fighting back another cough, she placed the sleeve of her free hand over her mouth and nose, breathing through the fabric that still retained some of the earthy scent of Wonderland.
	Elayra leaned into the door, more keen on leaving the car than before. 
	“Great." The fabric of her sleeve slightly muffled her voice. A foot tapped in quickening rhythmic sync with the finger on the dagger. “We’ll meet you there.” She paused, thinking of the dead-end alley housing the portal. “But we’ll have to go around its front. There’s no other way.”
	At his demand to leave the gun, she held out her hand toward Ghent to stop him in case he moved to hand the gun over, the dagger’s tip pointing toward the door opposite hers. 
	“Once we’re out, he’ll leave it on the floor back here.” She looked to Ghent and nodded to the floor at her feet directly behind Miles’ seat as she returned her hand back to her lap. At last, reluctantly, she replaced the dagger in its hidden sheath, reached across Ghent, and grabbed her pack.
	Eager to get out, she held her breath, lowered her hand, and frantically fidgeted with the door until she noticed a handle similar to the one on the outside. She pulled it, and the satisfying [i]cla-thunk[/i] of the door unlatching made a triumphant twinkle enter her eyes. She pushed it open, and all but lunged out of the car.
	Relief of being in the open flooded through her, drowning out the irritation of the torrent of drops splattering over her as if trying to make up for the dry patches that had formed on her clothes.
	She quickly stepped away so Ghent could get out, turning so she faced the vehicle as she inhaled the wet air. The rain washed away most of the unfamiliar stenches of the city, leaving a familiar freshness in its wake, a freshness her lungs found most welcomed. The feeling of being trapped slowly ebbed with each breath she took. She slung one strap of her pack over her should, and could not help but gasp through her teeth when it hit her forgotten bruise. Hoping neither Miles nor Ghent had noticed, she turned a glare on the man through his window.
	“See you behind Frank’s,” she called, the words a warning demand, before Ghent could close the door.