Brie parked at a cafe that had this green extension of the roof that looked like what those umbrellas were made out of, with people crowding the front door. It wasn't the best place to hide, but I hope they haven't sent out a BOLO yet, if they even do BOLO's in France.
"Okay, what's the idea?" I asked, eager to hear but also cautious to hear. Brie looked at everyone for a moment, not saying a word, as if she was making sure to see if she had their attention.
"We dress like the TSA agents," she said. Hans looked at her with confusion. "How?" he asked. "How does that even make sense?"
"We just dress black. Because of how oddly black we are, they might think we're the TSA and that we're their allies," Brie said. Hans peered his eyes at the plan. "They don't know that the TSA even exists or the IFA. You gotta remember, they dressed up as police."
"Shoot," I muttered. "We make a lot of dumb choices, don't we."
