“Yer brother?” Renard asked.

“Ninguem, none of that. There’s more important things at stake,” Izzy said standing up, and heading to the window to draw the curtains. She went to the bedside table and fished out a small pistol, almost an exact copy of Pablo’s. Renard’s eyes widened as Izzy aimed it at the door, at the window, in the closet.

“Perfecto,” she said, looking over at Renard, who looked doubtful.

“Where…” he said in awe.

“Black market. Do you really think they would let us over here with guns? You can pick up any good gun for a couple Euros if you have the right bargaining techniques and a few connections,” She said, winking impishly at Renard before aiming the pistol again. She hastily handed it over to him after she felt she had aimed it enough. He fumbled with it, dropping it with a clack onto the floor.

“Bonito! Be careful with that!” She warned. Renard grimaced, holding the gun like it was a snake.

“Just keep it with you,” Izzy said, scanning the windows again.