Samantha looked through the thin folder she was given, the folder that contained the mission specs. There was nearly nothing about Julian Sark. They really don't know anything about him, she thought, I thought the CIA knew this kind of stuff? She sighed. She dropped the folder on the coffee table and headed to her fridge for a glass of water. She went back down and sat on her couch, well really it was a loveseat.
When she moved to the United States she had nothing really to live in. She was in CIA homes for awhile. Once they were done with her they let her live on her own. She told them she needed her money from Russia transferred, so they did. And with that money she was able to buy the nice, spacious house she lived in and buy some furniture.
When you walked in, off to your right was a wide kitchen with a breakfast counter which had her laptop on. Across from there was her living room, which housed her loveseat and a chair, where these two met there was an end table in between. She had no T.V but she had a bookshelf, with not many books so far. She had her bathroom and her bedroom, which, thankfully, stored her double-sized bed. It all was very modern and she had occasional painting and plants around the house. She also had somewhat of a backyard, which someday might have a flourishing garden and a barbeque.
She didn't pack much since she was only going to be gone for probably a day or two, but she packed a small suitcase bag. When she was done she glanced at her clock, she had a half a hour, which was amazing to her. How did time fly so fast? She often thought.
A thought came to her, a memory. She suddenly wanted ice cream. She brought her bag and set it by the door and went off to her freezer. She looked at her meager food source, no ice cream. She sat back down. Something caught her eye and she recognized it as being her newspaper she had brought in earlier. There was an add for a new ice cream shop. Lucky! She thought. She ripped out the address grabbed her car keys and bag and set off for some ice cream.
"I'm going on a trip," Sydney stated to Will and Francie.
"Again!" France exclaimed.
"Where are you going this time?" Will asked.
"San Francisco. Again," Sydney replied.
"Oh," Francie said, "Why can't you go somewhere fun?"
"I don't have a fun job." Silence. "I gotta pack." And she walked out of the living room and into her bedroom. Will followed.
"Where are you actually going?" he wondered.
"Italy."
He nodded, "Sounds fun."
Sydney looked at him, "Who knows it could be."