The diner is empty, the late stars peering in the windows
Just three of them, slouched against the polished wooden counter, waiting.
The door puffs open, a ting from the bell; they glance around but noone comes in. They look at each other, shrug, and the woman picks up her handbag, fiddles with a cigarette pack, pulls one out and puts it to her lips
A blink, a flick of flame from nowhere, and the cigarette lights.
She recoils, and the two men snap their attention to her, the tall one knocking his hat off the counter. The air swirls across the counter from her, a small vortex for a moment, and she's there. She stares at each of them in turn, pinning them to the counter one by one, her eyes all laser and onyx, She smiles, thinly.
When she speaks, her mouth doesn't move, the air swirls another tiny vortex in front of her mouth, and the voice takes a deep contralto twang. "So, you can control yourselves, good. So, listen.
One job, three million. One target, this". The air shimmers over the counter, an image blinks into place, bluefire wrapped in blue tentacles, the shape of an egg.
"Where", grunts the short man, nasal and flat
She gestures, the blue egg shrinks onto a map laid behind it. "There, on the coast, the Broken House. Anyone can find it, anyone can enter. Make sure you emerge. Three days". She smiles her thin smile again and makes a gesture overhead, and whoosh, a swirl of air, the door puffs open again with that tinny ting of the bell.
The men glance around, "She likes her dramatic exits, alright" says the tall one. The short man nods, while the woman adjusts her red dress and smiles silently, feeling an invisible arm twine around her waist from behind.
