Alya doesn't mess around. If there is one thing I've learned from being one of her partners in crime for two years, it's that if she says something, she means it.
So when she said that we were going to kill Adrien Agreste, I didn't put up a fight. After all, why did I care if some shallow-as-hell model boy died anyway? The payoff for this job would be enough for us to get our own apartment where the three of us would be roommates. We would have an actual place to plan out our escapades, not just sitting around in a dingy abandoned shed with a flimsy dry erase board and some folding chairs.
Chloe put up a little bit of a fight. When she was in high school, she had a crush on Mr. Eye Candy. But one death-glare from Alya's fiery amber eyes and she hushed up.
Alya's long orange nails rapped on the planning-board. She had appointed herself task-master for this mission, which meant that whatever she said went.
As if that didn't already happen.
Pointing one long, tangerine tipped finger at me, she said in her husky voice.
"Mari, you play decoy. Get to know . Butter him up 'n get on his good side. It'll be easier for us to get in."
I nod. I'm looking forward to meeting Mr. Pretty Boy.
Who knows?
Maybe we'll actually become friends.
Or ( more likely ) maybe I'll dig up some deep,dark, shitty secret of his that will make this all the more satisfying.
All three of us can agree that there is nothing like watching the blood of a deserving jackass spill onto the floor.