"Tch! What the hell are we gonna do with you, Boost?"
Of the long list of options on 'What to do' with her, Kirsa never fathomed being shipped off to the States. And to be honest, she didn't like it. She tried brushing up on her English, but who the hell was she supposed to practice with? Some trigger happy Polizei? She'd pass, thank you very much. But that still left her up a river (ocean) and no paddle (which would be rather useless on a cargo ship, anyway). And, though there wasn't anyway to prove it short of opening a crate, Kirsa was pretty sure that something had crawled in and died in the hold. "Dumm Chef, billige bastard," scowling at her dumb luck. Of course her boss knew a guy (don't they always?); he'd take care of everything. Famous last words.
The low moan of a foghorn did a fine job of clearing her head of those aggravating thoughts. Peering out of one of the few windows scattered along the hold, Kirsa could just make out the faint silhouette of her new home: San Paro.
Of the long list of options on 'What to do' with her, Kirsa never fathomed being shipped off to the States. And to be honest, she didn't like it. She tried brushing up on her English, but who the hell was she supposed to practice with? Some trigger happy Polizei? She'd pass, thank you very much. But that still left her up a river (ocean) and no paddle (which would be rather useless on a cargo ship, anyway). And, though there wasn't anyway to prove it short of opening a crate, Kirsa was pretty sure that something had crawled in and died in the hold. "Dumm Chef, billige bastard," scowling at her dumb luck. Of course her boss knew a guy (don't they always?); he'd take care of everything. Famous last words.
The low moan of a foghorn did a fine job of clearing her head of those aggravating thoughts. Peering out of one of the few windows scattered along the hold, Kirsa could just make out the faint silhouette of her new home: San Paro.
