It's entirely similar to the way she works in a lot of cities; she's the international sort, and it's easy to world-hop when you can literally blink and be a continent away, thanks to genetic abnormalities. She's hoping that by keeping her mouth shut about that it won't cause problems as sometimes happens.

Sin follows Reno along, confident in letting her eyes wander as they pass through the city: it's like Prague, half-crumbling in places, but not from age in this place. She makes eye contact with a lot of the commenters, nodding, but her hands are tucked in her pockets as she replays scene after scene of walking people she's slept with to the corner of the square or the road or just out the door if she's actually in town. Morning, morning, morning, hey who's the new bait? Morning. The similarities make her laugh to herself.

When they get to the breakfast place she just seconds the request for cream and sugar--and by accident her arm knocks the sugar container over the edge of the table. It's second nature to her to catch it, suspended at an odd angle in midair until she lifts it back up without lifting a hand.

It's only after the glass touches down on the table that she looks up; that's gonna get noticed, she knows.