[@apathy]

Two cars down the street was a black sedan. Najwa might not be able to tell it was still running as it didn't have a combustion engine. Behind the dark tinted windows Donny contemplated his options as he casually studied the situation through his side mirror, looking straight ahead but watching carefully out of the corner of one dull green eye. Something had gone awry but as to the immediate cause he did not know. His target hadn't walked out. Instead some woman in fatigues had, obviously communicating with someone, and she had a hand on her gun and seemed to be looking for him to boot. Had there been a leak? Did he somehow give away his presence? Donny decided to fret on these matters later. It had been a real bitch finding this place, essentially a world apart from his usual haunt of Las Vegas, and the time it had taken him to get this far was nothing less than inexcusable. No time to wait until nightfall, no time to isolate the target. Donny could afford no more delays or he'd not receive payment. It had to be here and now, or for the first time his flawless record would be tarnished. Such compromises went against his pragmatism, but at this point it was do or die. He'd only ever killed targets on sunny city streets twice before, and never had they been expecting him.

Yet, here was this new factor. Was the woman a distraction? She couldn't possibly be acting alone, it had to be a setup. He came to a new conclusion and decided to stick to it until new information came to light. He knew he had no choice but to assume that his employer had double crossed him. Deep inside his chest Donny felt his resolve harden into a leaden black core, his nimble mind immediately isolating a suitable strategy. He would wipe the slate clean this time. Kill the resistance, kill the mark, kill the employer. He could always find another job, but leaving any loose ends would be folly. If he vanished now to reorganize it might tip off his employer before he got back to them. He had to do the job regardless of the heat and then proceed from there, but the first priority was this woman. The fact that she seemed ready to draw and fire was the biggest concern. The hitman popped a cigarette into his mouth, lit it, took a good drag, and left the vehicle.
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Moments after Najwa began surveying the vehicles, the door to the black sedan opened. A man emerged, and boy was he a sight. He probably wore the ugliest mug she'd seen all day, and the suspicious black trench coat and fedora didn't help much. He stood out like the black spot on a seadog's hand, and to her acute sense of smell would reek of nicotine and lead. Did he just get back from a shooting range? Did he have a gun on him!? He just had to be an assassin, someone so, so...

No, wait.

He didn't coolly step out of the sedan with murder in his eyes and a pistol in his hand. He stumbled out, eyes wide, bright, urgent, holding his gut, a wallet in his left hand. He jackknifed at the waist, not even giving Najwa a glance as he groaned loudly and upchucked his previous lunch all over the sidewalk not thirty feet away to her right, proceeding then to shake his wallet at the restaurant with a trembling hand, eyes reddened and glossy from the effort of heaving.

"Y'awll will hear from my Lawyah! What kindah kitchen yaw think y'awll are runnin' in they-uh! Ah'll have y'awll know Ah'm a Goddamn fed and Ah went tah college!"

The wallet flopped open, revealing his false federal agent badge which he briefly waved at the establishment like a talisman he could curse them with. Still looking sickly, he'd pocket the badge in his trench coat and begin turning right, back towards his sedan.
Though Donny didn't seem to be paying attention to her, he was careful to observe any motion. If this was indeed a setup he had to assume that the suspicious woman, at the very least, had a spotter nearby, maybe even a sniper ready to fire. He'd have to throw them off for a few moments and then try to bait them into giving away their positions. He already had a notion of how to do so, but first...