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[color=DAA520][sub] Location= London Heathrow. Time= [s][b]REDACTED [/b][/s][/sub][/color]
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Cairo smiled icily at the guard as she waved him towards the awaiting trolley, letting him drag the last of her oversized bags onto it. To him, and the cluster of various British guards at Heathrow, she looked like another entitled, rich diplomat’s daughter. What they didn’t know was under the shoes and clothes they thought were the only occupants of her bags was a veritable arsenal of weaponry. Her mother had managed to wrangle enough favours to extend some limited diplomatic privileges for Cairo this time. So, Cairo had to play the part. 

Waving a hand imperiously forward, she sauntered towards the exit, searching for her ride. The itinerary The Academy had given her, and that she’s subsequently burned, had mentioned a car with French diplomatic plates. She scanned the car park before she saw a black car with the plates the itinerary had mentioned.  The driver, in a pressed black suit, unfolded himself from the car and came up to greet her. [color=FDF5E6]“Miss Lalatovic,”[/color] he greeted as he pulled open the door and gestured inside, [color=FDF5E6]“Please.”[/color] She barely nodded as she slid inside. Just as the door was about to shut, she spoke, as if in afterthought. [color=DAA520] “Oh, tell the man to place the bags in the truck will you? And hurry! I haven’t much time.” [/color] With the driver’s agreement, the door shut and she breathed an internal sigh of relief. While this might have been an easy task, acting the part of a stuck up, entitled b*tch was never her favourite. But, needs must. She pulled out her phone, and slipped on her Airpods as she dialled up her dad. 
[color=DAA520]“Hello *Tata!” [/color] She exclaimed as she smiled fondly. In the background she heard the howling of the wind. After a second of listening to the wind whistling past and crackling of the phone, her father’s voice came through clearly. [color=CD853F]“*Draga moja, have you landed safely?” [/color]And here her father slipped into Serbian, as the sound of the wind quieted down. [color=CD853F]“Are you in London now? How far from Oxford are you?”[/color]

[color=DAA520]“Yes Tata”[/color], she replied in Serbian as well. [color=DAA520]“I’m sitting in the car that Mama procured. We haven’t started driving yet you idiot,” [/color] she added, fondly. [color=DAA520]“You’re the one who said to call, and I quote, ‘the second you land’”[/color] At the muffled sound of the driver’s door opening, her voice chilled considerably as she asked, [color=DAA520]“And [i]where[/i] are you?” [/color]

[color=CD853F]“Yes, well you never listen to me so I thought why would you start not?”[/color] Her father’s familiar laugh travelled through her Airpods as she fought her instinctive reaction to laugh with him. [color=CD853F] “Ehh your mother and I are mountain climbing. She got some time off work so I thought why not? Oh! Lemme see if I can find her.” [/color] As her father's voice trailed away and she heard him moving to find her mother, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Even on an encrypted call, and on her highly secure phone, her dad insisted on playing the charade the bored husband of a high profile diplomatic wife. 
In the interim, the car had rolled into gear and smoothly made its turn onto the road away from the crowded airport and towards Oxford. Finally the sound of her mother’s voice filled the phone as she too rattled off the same questions, the only difference being Cairo’s interrogation was in French this time. [color=808000]“*Ma petite chou! How was your flight? Did you find the car alright?”[/color]

[color=DAA520]“Yes Maman. Of course I did.” [/color] She added an exasperated sigh for good measure, knowing her mom knew she was faking. [color=DAA520]“The flight was fine. The ride from the airport to Oxford should take longer than getting her.”[/color] Rolling her eyes, she made eye contact with the driver. Gotcha! Despite the appearance of privacy, she knew he’d heard every word. Although she doubted there was much use to this charade, she’d rather keep the illusion of a slightly dysfunctional family as long as she could. It was one that had served her family well for many years, and she wasn’t about to let it slip now.
 
Information was power, and power wasn’t something she wanted to so carelessly give away. Who knew which agency he served or if he served one at all. It was always better to be safe than sorry, but her instincts told him that he served some agency. Which one, she didn’t know. But from his eyes to his mannerisms, it all pointed at training and forced carelessness. She pretended to hastily cut in with a quick, [color=DAA520] “Ok, well I have to go! I promised Jessica I’d call her.” [/color] With an affected insincere smile, she concluded her charade with a flourish. Hanging up, she tapped out a ‘k’ to her mom, knowing she’d get the message. Switching to Spotify, she put on ‘Drew Barrymore’, a song that had been stuck in her head for the last couple of days and turned to look out the window. 

[color=DAA520][sub] Location= Oxford. Time= [s][b]REDACTED [/b][/s][/sub][/color]
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From the change in pace, she knew that they’d just entered the city limits. From her years of training, she’d been taught to sleep and fall out of sleep in the blink of an eye. Any shift in rhythm would alert her. Giving it a couple more minutes, she made a big fuss of waking up and looking outside in surprise. Acting shocked that she had suddenly found herself in Oxford. God. She should have been a f*cking actress. At last, the car rolled to a stop outside a house, unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It was, frankly, an ugly building. She preferred the older styles of houses, not the modern cr*p that passed for houses nowadays. 

[color=FDF5E6]“Miss, we’ve arrived. Should I get the bags for you?”[/color] The driver had made a show of pressing the button for the intercom. She simply raised a brow before turning her attention to her phone. The driver clambered out, and pulled the door of the car open. She gracefully exited the car and looked at the house that would be hers for the next three years, if all went well. A girl was standing outside, with no bags in sight. She was really pretty, fitting Cairo’s type for sure. From the corner of her eye she saw the driver bring her bags around the back, and assumed that they’d hopefully be put in her room or something. Cairo went towards the doorway and nodded at the girl, unsure of what to say. [color=DAA520][i] Well this is awkward. I should probably say something. [/i][/color] And yet, nothing came to mind. 

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[sub]*Tata=dad (as you probs guessed from context)
**Draga moja=my darling (f)
*(kept it in French ‘cause it sounds weird in English) Ma petite chou= my little cabbage (f)
* chou chou=cabbage cabbage (idk why French endearments are so weird)
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