So. Smearing rouge on her mouth with a lipstick camera at a Martian karaoke. Not what they prepared her for at Penguin Flight School.
There again the flight school hadn’t taught her to spy, her employers had. They hadn’t taught her to become a burned out cynic either, experience had done that. Each New Year a chance to renew her silent vow of recidivism and return to the canvas of grimy hotel rooms, booze and fake smiles that she had become so familiar with, the varia which originally made the role seem so colourful now forming web-like patterns like the craquelure on an oil painting.
Absent-mindedly she turned away from the stage, picked up her cocktail and took a sip as she stared out of a rain-streaked window, glancing around the neon-lit gloom of the street outside.
She wondered now and then if the cracks would show through her visage, if any of her assignments would be compromised, however unlikely. Maybe it was time to get out, retire early and head for that place in the sun. It’s not as if she’d had time to spend any of the money she’d accrued over the years, or anybody to share her time with. Nobody she could trust.
Well dammit, this was her last job, for real this time. She’d had enough.
Just then her bracelet buzzed, and an lcd display lit up in a colourful profusion of dots arranged in a binary code cypher, telling her to bring the files to a place across town, along with other basic instructions.
Knocking back the last of her dirty martini she dug around her handbag and slapped a wrinkled bill on the bar-top, cocked an eyebrow and smiled at a handsome looking fellow who’d been trying to catch her eye for the past ten minutes, flicked her hair over her shoulder then, a gorgeous lie, marched out into the night.
Using all of the words listed on this week’s InMon prompt:
Penguin Flight School
Bring the file
Plus a number of words from the following Twitter hashtags:
#xbwg: a gorgeous lie