Mischa didn't immediately identify the feeling in her chest: a hitch of pressure that wasn't quite pain, not quite anger. There was a sharp spike of release between her ribs, a tight stitch suddenly come undone. It was painless--and terrifying.
She hadn't meant to arrive late. In fact, Mischa planned to come early, to help set things up, to steal a few relatively quiet moments with--well, yes, she supposed they were--friends before the party crowd descended. But work was hectic; Sato's unexpectedly prolonged stay in LA meant a slew of duties and order details to ferry. She'd even had to step into Masque affairs, overseeing the restaurant's latest wine and silver purchase. Then there'd been the unwelcome hassle of getting Cam's gift ferried through customs, along with the swamp of order forms to wade through beforehand; she'd forgotten how annoying her native country's protocols could be.
Unlike Allegra, Mischa had come dressed to impress. Her hair was loose, a gold weight curling down her back. The hearing aids were discreetly out of sight. She'd felt rather pretty and optimistic upon arriving--before seeing her sister.
Amazing, how quickly Allegra could undo her. Even now, even after years of experience and separation. There would always be something inside her, Mischa knew, that would be in Allegra's power.
That didn't stop her from leaning over between her sister and Cam, and plucking the cigarette from between Allegra's lips. She wasn't supposed to be smocking, for Heaven's sake! Or drinking. Or kissing Ca--
"What are you doing?" Mischa asked in the most reasonable tone available.
"Readying to kick your buddy's ass." Allegra's grin could put the Devil to shame. "Aren't you going to wish the lad a merry, jolly birthday, by the way?"
I'd like to kick your...damn it. "Happy Birthday, Cam." Mischa's expression momentarily softened, turning familiar and a bit rueful. "I'm sorry I didn't come earlier; there was a delivery issue at the airport. The present should be unloaded any minute now--oh, is Wes or Dave in charge of drop offs today? I'd need to warn them about the truck."
"Truck?" Allegra's brows arched. It was too much like looking into a mirror. At a particularly wicked fun house. "No fair. How come buddy boy gets a truck and I condemning emails?"
"Because I've never had to pay his bail in Tijuana," Mischa said sweetly. Her smile hardened. "Not to state the painfully obvious, but...allow me to introduce my sister, Allegra. Who isn't supposed to be here--wait." Mischa's brown eyes narrowed. "How did you find this place?"
"Dumb luck and great timing?"
"Bull."
"Friends with the owner in a past life?"
All too likely. "Door number three, please."
Sighing, Allegra dug out a small, black case from the nether regions of her pocket space. Mischa's missing PDA. Of course. "Oops?"
"Ne joue pas avec moi. Qu'est ce que tu fais la? (1)"
Allegra copied her sister's sweatness. "Was empfehlen Sie? (2)"
"Est-ce que vous ĂȘtes ivre? (3)"
"Ich bin hier im Urlaub. (4)"
And then there was glaring.
OOC: 1: Don't mess with me. What are you doing here? 2: What do you recommend? 3: Are you drunk? 4: I'm on vacation.