He always wore a 

bulletproof

vest. It was a promise he had made his wife. No matter what he had it under his shirt. One of those thin light ones that weren't so obvious. It wouldn't protect him from getting shot in the head. But usually it was the body you got shot at.

The criminal always returns to the scene of the crime, he thought. He wondered though. Was the lady with the purse a criminal? The Blue Group considered her one. But the Blue Group was liable to call anybody a criminal.

She wasn't a criminal. She was just merely a target. The target would return to the scene of the... what to call this then. No crime. The scene. Where it went down.

He put his fingers to his mouth. Needed another cigarette. But he had quit. Only bummed them off random people. Now that guest was gone. He couldn't buy a pack. He wouldn't go that far. He decided to go 'run into' another guest. Chat them up. Maybe they would have cigs. God he could use a smoke right now.