Jo watched as the red dot steadied on her chest, stabilizing as the sniper she'd scoped out minutes ago finally found his mark. She raised a brow, clearly unimpressed by the display. "...That's it? A _sniper?_" If she wasn't in mortal danger, she may have laughed at the audacity of it all. Jo studied the man who'd invited her to dinner under the guise of a much needed apology. A peace offering. A plea to mend what had been broken. She gave him a scathing look. She'd known it was a trap from the beginning, but a sniper? _Really?_ __ __ "You've grown sloppy," she muttered, picking up the menu and flipping through it casually, as if she wasn't a moment's decision away from death. "What's it been, only five years apart and already you're resorting to _hitmen_?" She gestured emphatically, clearly displeased. "Darling, if you wanted to kill me, at _least_ do it yourself."