>>10010842Holly stepped out of the arena, and hustled through the twilight toward the taxi rank. Compared to the shouts of jubilation at the main event, the street was eerily silent. A few patrons had stepped out to grab a smoke, their addiction to nicotine evidently more important than their addiction to waifu wrestling. A few selfies later and she'd managed to barter away a lighter and a packet for herself. It had been years, not since her time in Rio, since she'd smoked, but the tobacco was a familiar enough sensation on her lungs.
It was all the more familiar to the Belarusian taxi driver she traded the remainder of the pack to for a lift. Such was the state of taxation pricing.
The two of them sat in silence, choking the yellow cab with smoke as they travelled. Upon arrival, Holly didn't bother with a goodbye. Nor did she bother with a hello to the national guardsmen stationed around the Night family villa. She was recognisable enough and they waved her through.
It didn't take her long to collect her meagre possessions, including what little money she had to pay for another taxi. The sooner the pay cheque for her losing effort came in the better.
Hoisting her duffel over her shoulder, she left the villa, leaving no sign of her presence ever having been there apart from a number of blonde hairs in the shower.
The next taxi did not reek of cigarettes, but it was equally quiet. As was the drive to Germantown. A few nights slumming it in the hostel would be fine, then she'd think of her next move.
She'd not expected to see the hulking Dane leaning against the entry to the shitty little boarding house.
(Cont. Later)
