Sheila entered one of the stalls and carefully stood on the toilet. She reached over her head and pushed a ceiling tile aside, just enough to fit her phone up there. Once that was accomplished, she slid the tile back into place and hopped down to the cream colored floor below. She doubted anyone would have cracked her cell phone already, but they had already found her temporary place of residence, so she felt safer ditching the phone. She could have destroyed it, but she rather liked the idea of screwing with the people who might be tracking it, so let 'em climb a friggin' toilet in a men's room at a mall if they wanted to try to nab her. She checked her image in the mirror above the sink before pocketing her mini door stop and exiting the crapper. She navigated the dark hallway with thoughts of how to deal with Josh coursing through her skull when she caught a trio of waitresses out of the corner of her eye. The three ladies held aloft huge bamboo trays at shoulder height, each of them heaped with food, and Sheila naturally yielded to them courteously -- she even held open the door for them and gave them a slight smile and a nod.
Until she noticed the last waitress did not wear the traditional footwear of waitresses: sneakers or clogs. She wore black Tabi boots.
Before Sheila could even contemplate the remarkable understanding that a woman could break the gender barrier in the age old role of Asian assassin, the woman turned and threw her tray at Sheila's head. Concealed spikes emerged just as the tray passed over Sheila's backbreaking limbo maneuver, shiny and sharp enough to shred her neck to hamburg; the tray embedded itself into the wall with a THUNK! while the food splattered all over the floor.
Sheila's body reacted without so much as a thought, and already she had dropped to her knees and swung her right leg into the woman's left knee with considerable force. A satisfying pop upon impact let her know that she had just destroyed her attacker's Medial Collateral Ligament and she rolled away, into the kitchen area.
But the assassin would not be deterred. She exploded through the doors in hopes of catching Sheila off-guard and therefor unable to offer a suitable defense. The knee could be surgically repaired later, but the time to kill was now.
Unfortunately for the would-be killer waitress, Sheila still held one door in her left hand, and she forcefully slammed it on the woman's windpipe, instantly killing her. Her limp body slunk down into the food mess beneath her.
Sheila looked up just in time to see something else which made her heart sink. She knew right then and there this was going to be one hell of a long night.