Mary Anne Bell

The door opens onto a dimly lit bar. Two men in suits sit at a table by the wall, speaking in low voices; they don't look up when Mary Anne and Ramon walk in.

Four men at the pool table in the back do look up, then go back to their game. Their rolled up sleeves show off jailhouse tattoos--tattoos that mean murderers, time served, rank in their organization. Just because they aren't staring openly doesn't mean they aren't paying attention. The fact that no one makes a fuss just yet over Ramon's machine gun is telling.

A waitress in a short skirt goes by with a tray, delivering drinks to the suits by the wall. Mary Anne heads for the bar, taking a seat that's a few stools over from the next man. She beckons the bartender over.

"Vodka for me and my friend," she says in flawless Russian. "And keep them coming. We're out on the town tonight."

The bartender shakes his head. "You picked a hell of place to come," he says, but pours the drinks all the same then wanders down to the customer at the other end of the bar.

[Filler! This will totally be a coherent paragraph with scene setting and preamble and whatnot, but for now, let's just say they head out the front door of the bar and come out in a alleyway near Santa Croce.]

Mary Anne glances around as she shuts the door behind them. "Let's see, if I looked up the address right...we shouldn't have too far to go."

Much as she likes the bar, Mary Anne figured it was time to do a little exploring in her new home. She spent most of the afternoon walking the beach before returning to the castle. After taking a wandering route through a library, a ballroom and a weapons cache, she's back in her room, standing out on the balcony and enjoying the sea air.