She kept looking at him, his body lying just in front of her, and it took thirty seconds for her to adjust her mind in face of what just happened. I used that time to focus downstairs, on the disappearing sounds of the fight I left as a lure there. It was still going on, but with less intensity.It was time to leave, which left me with the decision of how to deal with her.As if she was reading my mind, she looked up, her eyes into mine. She knew it was time.I could not remember the last time I felt so divided between courses of action. My mind was split; should I explain to her why she could not keep living, being the last survivor of the Caestyr dynasty? Or should I just stab her quickly in the heart, so she wouldn't have time to let fear finally get the best of her?Never had I given so much thought about the way to deal with the death of a target. My decisions were never based on mercy or pity. However, at that same moment, I could feel even compassion for her, and that was not. I asked Michelle if she like whiskey, she replied, “Yes, occasionally”. I told her about the drink in the bosses’ office and said that for staying late to finish and working until we’re shattered. She agreed we headed for the office, I pulled the drawer open, taking the bottle and glasses out. I poured the JD into her glass, turned and gave it to her, I then poured myself a drink. I turned round and offered my glass, she brought her glass to mine and they clucked, we said, “Cheers” and had a sip from our glasses. Looking a bit bemused she looked at her glass, then at mine, before asking why she had more than I did. I just said, “It’s okay, I’m not trying to get you drunk” laughing aloud. Then I reassured her that I didn’t want to be rude, it was just I needed to be careful as I was driving. I knew Michelle didn’t drive so it was okay to give her more, but there was no intention to get her drunk. From my conscience mind anyway! We only had the one drink before putting the bottle and.
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