The melted plastic phone buzzed pathetically on the ground where Elija had kicked it, and she sighed as she pushed off the wall to pick it back up. She placed another cigarette in her lips, grumbling around it so that it bounced as she muttered.<br/><br/>"The Package Has Arrived," her cell phone told her cryptically. Elija cocked her head at the message and furrowed her brow, her gray eyes narrowing. She hated cryptic messages. They made her feel all weird and cheesy, like a character in a bad spy movie.<br/><br/>"I don't see you or your fucking package," Elija muttered, and pocketed the deformed phone. The wind picked up again, and over it Elija could hear a car door and the sounds of moving. She heaved a deep sigh of annoyance and walked to the other side of the building. Her fingers were under her cigarette as she came into view of the car and it's passenger, meandering up in the way of someone not on their guard.<br/><br/>"Took you long enough," Elija announced. Her fingers snapped, and in the wake of the sound a blue flame sprang to life on the end of her index finger. She held it up to the end of her cigarette like she was pointing a gun as the tobacco caught. It was only when the smoke filled her mouth that she bothered looking up.<br/><br/>For a courier, the girl seemed out of place. She was dressed sensibly and fashionably, in flattering clothes that didn't seem condusive to ferrying illicit materials all over hell. Elija immediately conjured up a mental image of the blonde running in her flats and dress, and decided that she could be overtaken far too easily for her clothes to be practical. Her face was clean and without marks, and her complexion spoke of a softer life in the muted daylight of some cute apartment somewhere. She probably had matching hand towels in her kitchen and a cute cookie jar or teapot that had bright colors on it.<br/><br/>Elija stood there, face stony, puffing her cigarette as she imagined what she felt normal people did. Her own face was hardened by the streets, her hair dyed dark red-purple and cut herself so that it hung in a sharp, shaggy mess just under her jaw. Her eyes were gray and deep set, sporting the dark coloration under them that suggested too little sleep and too much alcohol. She smelled like cigarettes and incense and brushfire, her hoodie and ill-fitting jeans unwashed because she hadn't the money to do laundry. Under them her body was athletic and toned from survival, and scratches marred her pale skin.<br/><br/>After a moment she kicked the ground with her scruffed-up vans, eying the girl. "So... yeah. I gotta pick up that... thing," Elija said, truly bad at speaking in code. "So... anytime now, because I gotta carry it back and all. I don't have a car right now."