Snippet #1832522

Gracie glared at Valentine. "Excuse me," Gracie said as she pushed past him, "But this is my kill. And what the hell is wrong with assassins? We actually kill with the purpose, to make the world better. What do you kill for?" Gracie's was listening closely for any signs of movement other than her own. "Freakin' one man show ... think your everything and a bag of chips," she mummbled as she kicked a door open, looking for the drug lord. "He better have called for back-up before they blew his head off. I swear." Gracie kicked down another door before freezing, her foot still slightly up in the air. Something didn't feel right ... like someone was there that wasn't supposed to be. She wasn't sure if it was nerves or if something was really wrong. "Does something ... feel off to you," she asked before shaking her head. "Never mind, don't know why I'm asking the prick."