AISHA
my lovely prey, i'm a cliche
The numbers fit in the lock, but they did not serve their presumed purpose. 6 7 3 my ass, they'd better try something else. Bastien's words did throw her off a bit, she was at half a mind to just try and pry the lock off or rip into the briefcase with her claws, but Oliver got to her before she could suggest it. Go check the pots again, she nodded with a rueful glance to the case, and a suspicious pass to Melita.
Before she left the room she handed off her list of numbers. A smirk to her friend, and to the other suspects, she went back to the pots, to give her own assessment.
Aisha gives Oliver her numbers to put into the lock, and then goes to check the pots for herself.
Before she left the room she handed off her list of numbers. A smirk to her friend, and to the other suspects, she went back to the pots, to give her own assessment.
Aisha gives Oliver her numbers to put into the lock, and then goes to check the pots for herself.
for us, the bourgeoisie, so care free
