"Owl?"
Sicape waited a long time before she dared step out of the crowd and approach the man sitting in seat number three.
The man was wrapped in a thick coat, making it hard to tell who he was from behind. Only when he heard Sicape's voice did he turn around. But the face revealed to her was one that seemed somewhat unfamiliar.
"Mr. Owl has been targeted by those people," it was a rather young face: pale skin, slightly curly hair, gray-green eyes—obvious Slavic features. "Miss Sicape, we've met once before, in Liege. Do you still remember?"
Sicape calmed down.
"You were the messenger back then?"
The young man nodded.
"The Captain wanted you all to avoid contacting each other as much as possible. I was the one delivering messages at the time."
"Yes, I recognize you," Sicape replied. "How is the Captain?"
"He's fine, but he's very busy lately. It may be a while before he gets in touch with us."
"I understand what he means."
