“Vamos Ricardo,” Izzy said impatiently as Renard blankly stared at his reflection in the pistol. She rummaged around in the closet for some time, before putting on another skirt, this time an indecently short black mini. This caught the attention of Renard away from the gun as he watched her hips swish back and forth around the apartment as she mumbled.

“Ricardo, you heard me no?” She said. He stood up to follow her.

“Where…” He asked, but Izzy cut him off.

“I need a drink. All we have is this merda wine of Marguerite’s…Vamos mi amor,” she said beckoning him to follow her out of the flat. He held up the gun with a pleading look.

“Sim, I forgot about that,” she said, taking the pistol from his hand and pulling him towards her by his belt, she forced the pistol into his pants until it was secure, then untucked his pressed shirt, and smoothed it out.

“Sim, sim,” she said approvingly, “Don’t worry, it’s not loaded.”