I turned to Agia, my body and heart in conspiracy as always aching for this murderess, her eyes just as constantly meeting mine in challenge. "We've nothing in common," she said, her spatha tracing elaborate patterns in the air, testing my guard though I remained unarmed save for a small makhaira. Agia smirked. "No common ground to start from. The world, our lives, have come between us."
Not for the last time I wished I held Terminus Est in my grip. Yet I was not helpless, not completely. My unsullied memory turned to a simpler time where we had seen a tragedy played in the great theatre of the House Absolute. I turned my hands towards her in a gesture of peace. I had only one chance to save myself, and I put all my cunning into this one line of inquiry. "What about," I began, "Breakfast at Tiffany's?"