(Author's Note: Small chapter here guys, sorry. But none the less, hope you like! Since this isn't the chapter with much William McIntyre in it, my question from last chapter shall go on: How would you prefer me to refer to Mr. McIntyre as? ex] William, old man, William McIntyre, Mr. McIntyre.. Willy, whatever! Please, review with your preference! Disclaimer: I do not own the 39 Clues. Ooh! Some new characters I created will be joining us soon! *Hint Hint* They were mentioned in the last chapter...)
Chapter 8
Nothing Can Contain the Hideousness
"Alistair!" Irina whispered to her colleague, beckoning him to join her. Alistair saw Irina using his peripheral vision and excused himself from his chat with Mr. McIntyre. Alistair strode towards Irina but was intercepted by someone with a sky blue dress that uncannily matched her frizzy hair.
"Oh, my dear Mr. Oh! How are you holding up?" crumbling bright pink lipstick flew from the speaker's lips onto Alistair's black tuxedo. He tried not to notice. He just grinned and greeted the old woman.
"Ms. Beatrice Cahill, as lovely as ever. I'm quite alright, thank you." Alistair bent his head to press his lips to Beatrice's wrinkled hand. He almost gagged; her perfume tasted awful. Beatrice giggled despite herself. She smoothed back her puffy blue hair, doing nothing to contain its hideousness.
"And how are you, Ms. Cahill?" Alistair strained himself to remain polite, as he was itching to talk to Irina.
"Charmed, Mr. Oh, charmed," Beatrice's shrill voice hurt Alistair's ears.
"How lovely. Now then, I believe your grand niece and nephew were looking for you," Alistair lied easily.
"Oh, were they? Where are they now, do you know?" Beatrice asked.
"Ah, over there, I can see young Dan is playing with the Holt twins." Alistair gestured towards Dan who was being held by the ankles by Reagan and Madison Holt.
"Oh, kids these days," Beatrice chortled.
"Good day, Ms. Cahill," Alistair cut the conversation short. He knew Irina would be impatient. He strolled over to her, swinging his bejeweled cane dandily.
"Irina, hello," Alistair greeted her.
"What took you so long?" she hissed.
"Splendid to see you, too." Alistair muttered as he leaned against his cane. Irina scowled.
"No time for games. What have you heard?" Irina leaned against a nearby tree. The leaves overhead rustled, but she did not notice very much.
"많은 William McIntyre, Grace's lawyer, told me he would be announcing something momentarily. Something about being chosen. I'm thinking he means the Hunt for the Clues," Alistair spoke in Korean nonchalantly. Irina smiled.
"Вы думаете так? Do you think so?" Irina asked in Russian.
"예 Yes." Alistair replied in Korean.
"так ли это? And you think you will be chosen?" Irina inquired in her first language.
"예 Yes, and you, too. Unfortunately, I do not think an alliance will be possible for us. Possibly, for the first Clue, but not at any other time. 아니"Alistair mumbled in his. Irina nodded again.
"I can easily reach Isabel's children, пара пустяков. Will you ally with Hope and Arthur's children?" Irina fired away in Russian. Alistair nodded solemnly.
"I think we are to shovel our share of dirt at this time," Irina spoke in English.
"Alas, let us say our final farewell to a great woman and friend," Alistair replied, no longer speaking Korean. Irina stalked off, pretending not to have spoken to Alistair at all. Alistair twirled his bejeweled cane and set off towards Grace Cahill's grave.
"More interesting news, boss. It appears as though Mr. Oh and Ms. Spasky are more acquainted than they let on," twenty feet up the tree Irina had leaned on, a black-clad man spoke into a headset.
"Interesting," the man's correspondent repeated.
(Author's Note: Some other languages here, guys! If you'd like some translations...
These are all based on a translator I found on the internet. If I am incorrect, please, correct me!
많은= Much.
Вы думаете так = Is that so?
예 = Yes.
пара пустяков= Piece of cake.
Thank you for reading, please review!)