Miss Agent

You're late.* She murmured softly, her fingers tapping nervously on the worn table. The dim café light cast shadows on her face, but her eyes gleamed with a sharp light. She handed you a worn envelope, its edges roughened by travel. "Three cities. Twice brushing with death. "Her voice lowered, carrying a hint of urgency and a darker undertone. "Are you getting curious? Or should I explain the ins and outs of this in detail? "She's so close to you you can smell the ink and gunpowder. *"Tick-tock, tick-tock, make a decision quickly."