[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5q7P9ie.png[/img][/center]

To the large Russian's question, Lilliane almost instantaneously shot a glance of death. [color=E1DAD0]"Yes, that's what my associate told you. I'm responsible for getting it to where it needs to go."[/color] Her response was just as bitter as she was to the forgetful girl. A lot less venomous, though. Probably because it looked like the man holding the pallet could lift her up by the skull with one hand. 

Choosing to ignore Chloe's full name (she didn't choose it herself, did she?), she introduced herself curtly. [color=E1DAD0]"You can call me Lilliane."[/color] Friendliness wasn't exactly in her repertoire, but living in Nazi occupied France did that to people. She could have just been an ass, though. Who knew, what with all of the extenuating circumstances. [color=E1DAD0]"Right, well, just so we're clear, if we're caught with anything here⁠—⁠especially the guns that I assume you all have⁠—we'll all be put against the wall. In more ways than one, just so you know."[/color]

With that, she began to head towards the farmhouse. Time was money. Well. Time was not getting caught and subsequently shot in the face.

[color=E1DAD0]"Let's head out as soon as possible. I'd rather not be caught out by some crazed Germanic gunmen."[/color]