Max rolled into Jam Pony around five minutes before the work day officially ended. She ignored Normal's ranting of the 'no bikes inside' policy and hopped off her bike in the middle of the room. She placed it on one of the racks and stopped to let Sketchy talk to her about some crazy pyramid scheme.

"Hey, missy miss!" Normal called to her.

Max rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to face him. "Normal, cancel my magazine subscription 'cause I'm sick of your issues."

She smiled sweetly and walked off toward her locker. She opened it and pulled out her bottle of tryptophan. After making sure that there was enough to ward off a sudden seizure while she was working, she put the cap back on the bottle and placed it back on its shelf. Deciding that she didn't really have to worry about anything else inside, she shut the door and was only half surprised to see Original Cindy standing next to her, grinning.

"Where were you?"

"I had lunch with Logan." Max rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming.

"With Logan or at Logan's?"

"Both." Max replied. Before Cindy could continue, Max raised a hand to stop her. "And eating with Logan at Logan's does not imply the sort of intimate atmosphere you are about to bring up and rag me endlessly about."

Original Cindy was slightly taken aback. She grinned and recovered quickly. "Was just gonna ask you what you had, but then you get all defensive. Makes a person wonder where your mind really is."

Max shook her head. "You're good."

"Original Cindy knows it."

"So, Crash tonight?" Max was eager to change the subject. Her good day turned bad was slowly turning back to the good side of things and she didn't want the complicated thoughts she sometimes had about Logan distracting her.

"Aiight." OC nodded.

* * * *

Across town, the sniper sat in his apartment, browsing through another intelligence file. He settled himself in his favorite overstuffed armchair and sipped leisurely at a steaming cup of imported coffee. He set the mug down and dug deeper into the file.

The target was more upscale than his previous missions. The photos of the home suggested that the woman lived a high class life. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, he thought as he looked over the woman's credit card statements. Two months previously she had bought a Jaguar, plasma screen television, and rented a hotel room at one of the most expensive hotels in the country. She didn't seem to be the typical Eyes Only informant.

But that didn't matter to him. What mattered was completing the mission and receiving his pay.