Dark Morning

Iva prepares for her mission.

II. Dark Morning

It was three days later when Iva received an email from Claiborne simply reading: It’s time. Meet Sini at the airfield at eight-twenty-seven AM. The plane will be waiting.

Iva glanced at the clock mounted on the apartment wall. 6:30 on the dot. Good, she needed some time to prepare. She shoved the rest of her bagel away and stood up.

An hour and a half later, Iva’s taxi pulled up in front of the Richmond Airfield. ti was a small place, with two runways, three hangars, and one tiny building. The blue-haired woman that had accompanied Claiborne. Iva assumed she was Sini. Iva pulled some bills out of her pocket to pay the driver, “Thank you.” she said as she passed the money up front, then climbed out of the car, pulling her bag with her.

“You’re early.” Sini commented.

Iva smiled. “I like to be punctual.” she drawled, slinging her bag onto her shoulder.

Sini rolled her eyes, turning and beckoning for Iva to follow her. As she led Iva into the building, the assassin let herself study the other woman. Sini’s electric blue hair hung in a loose braid to her waist. She wore a tight-fitting leopard print dress and white leggings. Her shoes were impractical high-heeled ankle boots. Iva rolled her eyes. Whatever Sini did for a living, it wasn’t physical labor.

Sini paused at the doors at the far end of the building. “Your flight leaves is ten minutes,” she told Iva, “when you arrive, it will be seven o’clock in the morning on The Day of Light. You know what to do from there.”

Iva nodded. They - meaning herself and Claiborne - had discussed this at their first meeting. “Yes, I know very well. Thank you.” Sini pushed open the door. “You’d best be on your day.” she smiled insipidly as Iva strode out the door.

Iva decided that she strongly disliked Sini.

The plane was absolutely tiny; compact, with only enough room for about half a dozen passengers. A young man with dark hair met Iva at the top of the (steep) stairs. “Hi,” he said cheerfully, “I’m Dave, I’ll be your flight attendant.”

“Thanks,” Iva grunted. “Do you think you could move?” she gestured for him to step out of her path.

“Right, I’m sorry!” he shuffled backward, halfway into the cockpit. Iva huffed, annoyed by his chiper manner, and made her day into the cabin. “You can sit anywhere you like!” Dave said, and Iva gritted her teeth. She could hear his smile. Where had Claiborne found this guy?

She took a deep breath, then calmly said, “Yes, I had rather figured that. I am the only passenger, am I not?” She turned halfway down the aisle and raised an eyebrow at him.

He faltered, and opened and closed his mouth rapidly, like a fish, Iva thought. She smirked and slipped into a seat, stowing her bag on the floor in front of her. As Dave scampered off, Iva pulled out a pair of earbuds, attaching them to her dated MP3 player and popping them in her ears. As Bach drained into her mind, she closed her eyes and waited.

Author's Note

I'd like feedback on my dialogue, please.
Thanks for reading.