(@Stuffy McPatch) The party was bustling with people. Crystal wine glasses hung from hands nonchalantly, and Petra's eyes traced their fingers thoughtfully. Imagine, she mused, being so comfortable around wealth that you could wave around a glass like that and not feel fear of shattering it and having to pay the consequences. Her target was a middle-aged man named James Lawrence. He had caused difficulties for her employer, a fact that was being celebrated with the party tonight. She smoothed her red dress as if to reassure herself, and she gradually worked her way into the crowd around him. His brown hair was touched with grey around the temples, and his smile was full of clean, straight, white teeth. He had warm brown eyes, and in another world, Petra may have thought he was handsome. Unfortunately, there was no place for such observations, and her demeanor became casual as she laughed lightly at an anecdote a young, slightly nervous man produced.
On the far side of the room, sat a man. He looked rather out of place, shifting uncomfortably in his clean suit. Nothing a few drinks couldn't help. He sighed, his dark hair matching his clothes, but his eyes stood out. One hand held a drink, and the other rested stiffly at his side, unable to hold so delicate a glass. He scanned the room, though had his sights set on only one person. In fact, the glass he had was already dosed, and all he needed was for Mr. Lawrence to take a sip.
Petra glanced idly at the man in the corner and eyed the glass thoughtfully. Gabriel Cael was here for the same purpose as her, but he wasn't yet aware of her existence. She preferred it that way. Her blade was cold against her thigh and she contemplated her target once again. She disliked being rushed, but Mr. Cael had made it necessary. She provided a witty comment on the trivialities of financial stability, her voice clear and smooth, and Mr. Lawrence looked up at her with a smile as the group laughed.
Gabe watched, growing impatient. He sighed, crossing his legs. While he had all the time in the world, he definitely hated waiting.
Mr. Lawrence stood and Petra stood back, giving him a dazzling smile. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning her face, before he spoke to her. "May I get you a drink?" She tilted her head thoughtfully, pursing her lips. "A red wine, please." He nodded and headed forward, his hands in his pockets.
Gabriel grumbled, sipping his champagne in annoyance. This woman was getting in his way. He may have to find a way around this.
Petra glanced at him, her eyes intense as she caught his gaze. A small smile crossed her lips, genuine this time, and she moved forward, heading for Mr. Lawrence.
She placed a hand on his arm, and he glanced down at her for a moment, his gaze warm. She spoke to him quietly for a moment, and he considered her before nodding, and she led him away from the party.
Gabe stood, watching as his idea crumbled, he scowled, setting down the glass and trailing them from a distance.
The room was dark. Mr. Lawrence sat in an armchair, his head lolled back in death, a knife wound on his throat. Petra sat on the windowsill, checking through her clutch bag idly with one hand, the other holding a pistol that was pointed directly at Gabe.
"Yes, well," she said with a smooth shrug, glancing up at him, "if it's any consolation, you worried me a little." She reached up and pressed a small button on the inside of the strap of her dress, and the fabric around her legs began to shift. "I had to move much faster than I would have liked."
