Crossed Strings

/ By Tweedy [+Watch]

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[font "Times" Gweniviere then fell silent, keeping her own satisfaction from her face as she watched the reaction from the other individual and waited for the information to flow in. It was a lovely tactic to gain context on another individual, insulting them, because everyone's ego was so easily bruised and they would leap to defend it and thus reveal any amount of information, however small, such as regards to the ability to hold their temper, or not, what throws then subsequently into a rage and why...

Apparently this was something close to her enough to lead her to believe that no one else was worth joining her. Clearly she also wasn't used to working with others. The German had to suppress a scoff at that, did she think she was better or was that a symptom of recklessness and a lack of consideration towards one's own life, she wondered. As Florence raged at her in the annoyingly condescending tone that everyone took on that ground on Gweniviere's nerves as to make them bust but she suppressed it, even going so far as to nod in acknowledgment as Florence spoke to her. She fought her own temper to rise to the situation and its oncoming insults. Truly the speech was of course getting to her, but she had asked for it deliberately and wasn't in the business of making this worse, taking a calming breath as she dropped her eyes once to glance down at her position on the desk and adjust it.

The Lieutenant's eyes were on her sharply, studying Florence's features as she spoke "[B Well alright then.]" the woman said, nodding to her, voice relaxing now that she was satisfied to have pissed off the other of them and had gained some bits of valuable information. Florence didn't strike her as the type to share much unless her ego was in the throes- judging by especially the night she had met her the dark haired woman had been keen to get the last word. She would have to work around that. "[B Then fucking prove it. Don't give me this bullshit about not caring about a mission that clearly matters to you just for the sake of face and make an effort to show me, please.]" Gweniviere explained, nodding her head to the side as she spoke. She uncrossed her arms and then stood up from leaning on the desk.

Gweniviere's face was stony as she held Florence's gaze in reply to her bit about not being owned. No, of course not. The woman was domineering but she would be damned if she had to put up with [i that] for an extended period of time past the assignment. And she was right- they were not equals. "[B I understand you completely,]" the woman replied in an even tone, "[B your accent just vanished, but I understand.]"

Gweniviere almost laughed out loud at the suggestion about daylight. Was Florence entirely unaware of how much she herself was just like that as well? But the woman suppressed it into a mild smirk pulling at the corner of her slanted mouth. She shrugged a bit, "[B Judge me how you will.]" the woman said, closing her eyes briefly as she relaxed her shoulders. [i I'll outlive you anyways.] "[B People will do amazing things to survive.]" she finished in a dark tone, letting her arms down at her sides and moving towards the screen again, banishing the other mission specs and bringing the map back up again.

"[B If you do not see use in me that is perhaps because we have just met and that we haven't had need of each other yet.]" she brushed away some statistics that didn't matter and circled each area of import, spreading her fingers to expand them more specifically so that she could get a better look at how the deaths were scattered around their respective cities. "[B If you want to find [i out] about that use I suggest you stick around and actually discuss your information and your dossier with me instead of fucking off to who knows where as your excuse for "actually getting the job done".]" she said, quoting Florence directly, "[B Deal?]"

"[B Smear is a large organization.]" she replied mildly. Ah, so this Drake woman was trying to turn it back on her, was she? Of course she had to have the last word, it seemed to be ingrained in the other woman's nature never to back down. But yet in the back of her eyes, Gweniviere could tell that Florence somehow wanted to with her impatience, and yet could not bring herself to leave the conversation. Interesting parallel. Gweniviere tilted her head back, "[B I was requested. I was not told much more but that I was wanted for advising and enforcement on an assignment. Now, however, I know which and why I was chosen specifically.]"

"[B And, you did not give me a name when you ran into me. I wouldn't have known it was you. So no, unfortunately, I had no knowing intention to specifically meet you.]"
  Gweniviere Nietzsche / Tweedy / 4y 274d 9h 46m 6s
[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Didn't I say that?"] Flor didn't blink at her response to Gweniviere's obvious protectiveness over her name. Sure she might've butchered it, but excuse her if the profile didn't come complete with a pronunciation guide.]

[font "Times New Roman" The young agent didn't take another step forward, but didn't turn. She was half convinced that she should just keep going, act like she didn't hear anything and she didn't care. But the director would hold a grudge with her about it, undoubtedly, as she was fairly sure Gweniviere was the type to write a bad review.]

[font "Times New Roman" She was very convinced Arndt wasn't worth anything special to her at the moment. She didn't much care what he had to add to the conversation since he wasn't running the show. Hell, he was barely even running the behind-the-scenes part of the show. He was just standing there in his suit and fucking breathing mask doing nothing but getting hit and talking in German. Not valuable.]

[font "Times New Roman" It was the obviously fed-up "alright" that caught Florence's attention. She turned slowly, repressing the smug grin that threatened to take over her face as she looked at Gweniviere. While her body language said one thing, the tone of her speech and the downturn of her mouth were clearly stating another. She was not pleased. Apparently not so far as pissed, but definitely upset.]

[font "Times New Roman" The muscles in her jaw flexed rapidly and she rose an eyebrow at the wild, completely out of the field accusations her "new partner" was throwing at her. She ventured a step deeper into the room. [+teal "Soak up [b glory]? I don't think so. I didn't [i want] a group project on this op, you understand that? I was handling it all dandy and great alone until Daddy Director calls and says, 'You, come home, we're pulling you out of there. Kassan knows your face and he's getting invested, it's getting dangerous.' So I leave and when I get there he says I'm going to Berlin."] Florence gestured by spreading her hands out beside her. [+teal "You do not know me, [i Lieutenant.] Don't tell me what I care about."]]

[font "Times New Roman" She'd been that girl.]

[font "Times New Roman" The one stuck with the addict boyfriend, the addict friends, tried to pretend she wasn't a junkie herself. Constantly trying to get clean, constantly failing, crying herself to sleep, wondering if the stars were the souls of dead people. Wondering how long she'd live like that until she became one.]

[font "Times New Roman" By doing the mission, she was saving herself. She was saving her friends, her deadbeat boyfriend. She owed them all that much.]

[font "Times New Roman" Gweniviere Nietzsche was not going to take that away from her.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her eyes settled on the files sitting in the chair before traveling back to the pale German woman. [+teal "Burn them."] No way in hell she was 1. going to do the walk of shame back to the chair or 2. look like an embarrassment carrying them back out.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "If you think that I am going to allow you to continuously talk down to me like a dog, then [i you] are sorely mistaken. It shows a characteristic of egotistical haughtiness that I just can't seem to stomach."] Her lips broke into the grin she had tried to hide at first, deciding it was best not to get angry. It was too early on, and besides, who was this woman to get under her skin? Florence had met people like her: people who were so high up on their horse that they had forgotten what the ground looked like. Gweniviere had a superiority complex. That had to be it. Flor wouldn't lie to herself, she had one too, but Gwen had such internalized automatic disdain for every other living thing that it wasn't even charming or interesting, it was disgusting. Flor was slowing up on being mildly curious about it. Now it was becoming unattractive and overall repulsive.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "You are not my boss, barely my equal, and you do not own me. Do you understand [i me]?"]]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence stood her ground fearlessly, desperately ignoring the feeling of heat waves emanating from her body. Her stomach was attempting to twist itself into a million intricate knots at once.]

[font "Times New Roman" She didn't move her stare from those golden eyes. Gweniviere could try her all she wanted, but Florence stood by her statement: she didn't need that woman, and she barely wanted her anymore. She wanted the thing off the streets; she didn't care who or what she had to go through to achieve that. Her assignment to the case in the first place had been purely coincidental, but now she wasn't going to let it go. She couldn't. She'd never forgive herself for it.]

[font "Times New Roman" However, it was possible that if she couldn't make the partnership with Smear work, they'd completely take her off it and give it to someone else.]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor pondered that for a moment before deciding that even if she was taken off the assignment, she'd do everything in her power to be involved in it. It didn't matter how much she would be reprimanded for it.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Tell me, Nietzsche, do you know what daylight looks like? Or is your head so far up your ass that you can't remember?"] A soft laugh tumbled past her teeth as she began slowly walking back and forth in a small space. [+teal "I have yet to see use for you; I don't get the point of your value save for someone to provide biting commentary while I try to actually get the job done. You said it yourself, you're no one to stop the world from destroying itself. Big Brother is reaching a hand out to Smear, not me. Personally, judging from your view, I think Smear has a much darker vendetta than getting some meth away from kids who don't know any better."] Florence shrugged, the grin spreading into a smile. [+teal "But, before I go, do shed some light on why, despite the fact that you are obviously disinterested in the mission, you agreed to see Florence Drake today? I'm just feeling a little curious."]]

[font "Times New Roman" She stopped her pacing and looked up at the tall German woman, one eyebrow quirked, as she awaited an answer. And it had better be a damn good one if she was risking a panic attack at any given moment because she hadn't taken her medicine in her rush from Austria to Germany.]
  khaleesi / 4y 274d 11h 13m 26s
[font "Times" "[B I hope that's not all you're good for.]" the Lieutenant said in a flat tone without looking up.

She glanced up at Flor at her painful, and unabashedly grimacing note of the plurality and felt herself roll her eyes instinctively. So she was now a complete package: young, pigheaded, arrogant [i and] childishly narcissistic. Oh, no this was not going to go well. The disgusting personage who had taken root in the chair was becoming less and less appealing. Her pretty features fading into more disgust now as Gweniviere was now mostly certain she was most definitely either American, English, or French.

While she was laughing, Dr. Arndt and Gweniviere stood next to one another and simply looked at her. She hadn't given any hint that she was trying to make actual, viable humor out of this and as such the two were both unenthused and thus silent. Gweniviere was not very curious towards what sort of humor she could pull out of this sort of situation. Perhaps she was actually interesting to some degree after all? The woman herself had a morbid sense of humor but... she figured that the girl wasn't that bright.

Gweniviere heard the horrific pronunciation of her last name and sighed through her nose. Her pale brows furrowed in a frown as she realized just now [i trite] she was! "[B It's [i Nietzsche*].]" the woman said, opening her eyes again with a judgmental look. She was aware that German was a leap from French's pronunciation, but if the woman could speak Russian, shouldn't she be a little better at this? "[B If you want to use it at least make an attempt, scweinenfrau**.]"

Gweniviere turned, her eyes snapping to the girl as the Corporal leaned down to retrieve his hat from the floor, pausing and glancing at the Lieutenant before standing up again and tucking it under his arm.

"[B No, actually.]" the Lieutenant said after her, shutting the file and tossing it on the chair, "[B Nothing you shouldn't be here for.]" she glanced to the seat that the dark haired thing had left, scoffing with embittered amusement. She had to be kidding.

The Corporal shifted uncomfortably, speaking up now and gesturing mildly in front of himself. "[B [+darkgray Agent Drake? Please don't-]]" Dr. Arndt began in his polite, milder tone of voice.

The woman took the towel off of her shoulder and tossed it onto the desk. "[B Alright,]" she said in an offhanded tone, going over to the desk and leaning against it again, crossing her arms over her chest and watching her as she turned to leave. The woman knew that she was being challenged, and decided to play her game. Florence Drake was transparent. Apparently somehow the woman thought that she was on vacation, and apparently she was also spoiled beyond belief, thinking that everything was simply voila- done for her, that she honestly thought that the Lieutenant was going to do this for her? The woman's hard, golden eyes were the same cold, reserved judgment that any parent often gave whilst in the presence of a child that apparently didn't quite know how the world worked yet and they were settling down for a war of will. "[B I hope you understand Smear has much larger fish to fry, as the saying goes, than to clean up your boss's messes and babysit his childish agents to give him some credit on this assignment. You're relying upon our good will to do this project [i for] you, so you can soak up a few moments of glory, I assume.]" her expression was masking the deep hatred that she was feeling for the woman, her body language hiding it as well as she sat relaxed, expectant even as she awaited for Florence to start getting the picture. "[B There is by no means any initiative for us to take this into consideration aside from the intention that this is to be a joint operation to bring about a common goal. We have no need to pursue this and are extending the effort to assist you. With how little you care for your own assignment then there is no reason then for us to continue any farther.]" the tall woman stated in an authoritative, calm tone.

She held her hand out to the doctor who handed her his file. He knew what she was doing. Smear had a budget, if large, and they would not waste it nor would they stand to be used in this manner if the assignment really meant so little to the contact established between Big Brother and Smear. Dr. Arndt frankly agreed. If it wasn't important, then they wouldn't bother with it. Population control, like the Lieuteannt had said. The Lieutenant then continued in a quieter tone, taking hers from the face of the desk and tossing them both on the chair that Florence had left, gesturing to it. "[B Be so kind as to take those with you on your way out. We've no use of them.]"

"[B If you think that this is how this is going to work then you are sorely mistaken. I have no time to waste on spoiled little brats who can't be bothered to finish what they started. It shows a characteristic of cowardice and sloth that I can't stomach.]" she stood up from the desk and then turned back towards the screen, waving a hand and banishing the map from the screen and giving another cue to make it change to another mission spec that she had been working on. "[B I will not carry dead weight on this team if it was to be one. Do you understand me?]" she rubbed an absent hand over the scarred surface of her forearm as she turned her attention to the Corporal, giving him a quiet request in Germa that he nodded to, folding his hands and utned to leave, his slender legs carrying him across the room in a few strides before the Lieutenant called out to him in English, "[B And escort that one out when you get back, would you?]" He passed her through the door, nodding politely at Florence and replacing his hat on his head as the metal panel slipped closed behind him.

Gweniviere and Florence were now the only two left, the Lieutenant reclined on the desk of her office, her hip next to a small bust of Friedrich Nietzsche, the philosopher. A small bit of humor between herself and the Corporal, the two Nietzsche's being of no relation but sharing some world views. The woman's eyes expressed amusement as she looked at the expression on Florence's face, her eyes falling to half lidded. "[B You know I hadn't expected much of you, but I will admit I expected more than [i that]. I have no time for someone who can't actually work, but instead put up the facade of actually being of any importance. So feel free to take umbrage with that if it will make you any more useful to anyone, and get out of my office.]" she shooed her dismissively with a flick of her hand.

Also, Tweedy decided to make this Gweniviere's specific office and thus forgot to mention that because this is Gwen's she has a wall sized map on the back wall behind the desk with all sorts of crisscrossing strings, pictures and notes attached, and two large bookcases on either side filled with you guessed it- books and maybe some war relics. And a lamp and glass paperweight on the desk. Sorry, I'm a doof. Imagine that I described that in lovely narrative in the first of this whole deal.

*pronounced NEE-chye, very very soft sound at the end, unstressed
**pig woman, piggish woman, rough translation
  Gweniviere Nietzsche / Tweedy / 4y 275d 9h 33m 56s
[font "Times New Roman" Gweniviere's reactions were... interesting. Flor eyed her, tucked it away in her memory, switched her gaze to the doctor. [+teal "Our biggest current lead is London,"] she added after the pale woman had spoken. [+teal "Most deaths out of the three cities we know of."]]

[font "Times New Roman" When Arndt spoke, Florence dropped her predatory gaze on Gweniviere. She'd have all the time in the world to try to get a rise out of her later.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "If you want to know what Big Brother knows about Smear, that's a question for him directly,"] the dark-haired woman declared with a light shrug of her shoulders. [+teal "The puppetmaster says walk, so I walk."]]

[font "Times New Roman" Her posture altered as she relaxed back into the chair, observing the exchange between Arndt and Nietzsche. Interesting, how she was the one making the suggestions and demands and overall doing the job Flor would've thought Arndt would be handling. Was a lieutenant above a corporal? She had no idea how military rankings worked; she'd never been anything where it was required for her to learn. Maybe that was something she could google.]

[font "Times New Roman" She was initially disinterested when Gwen started speaking, though she wasn't quite sure why. But when the map was pulled up, she got up, some part of her kind of amazed at the tech they had at Smear--her job was just to do the mission. Most of the recon was already done and information was already given to her. Her whole point was her skill at the 'execution' step. So she didn't get to see technological wonders like "Vox" every day. It was kind of... cool.]

[font "Times New Roman" A smile had started to grow on her face as she looked at it like a kid looking at candy, but she quickly dropped it. These were not the kind of people you smiled around. Especially not over something so childish.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Finding out the ports they use should be the toughest part of locating the middle man. Whoever he is is likely to lead me straight to the supplier. I mean... Us."] She couldn't help but grimace a bit.]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence opened her mouth to add something else, glancing at Gweniviere, when her would-be sentence was cut off by Arndt speaking in... yet again... German. They must know she didn't speak it otherwise they wouldn't use it around her. She didn't understand a single word and it was frustrating her to her core.]

[font "Times New Roman" Whatever was being said, Arndt was into it. His whole body language was basically screaming it. Gwen was confused, then against it. What the fuck could they possibly be talking about that was so urgent they couldn't wait for her to leave?!]

[font "Times New Roman" She glared between the two impatiently, waiting for them to finish their conversation.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her eyes widened, her mouth gaping a little, when Gweniviere slapped Arndt in the back of the head. Okay, so obviously, the good Doctor wasn't the one in charge. What did he say that would get him taken off the assignment? What was he proposing to her? And why was she so [i angry]?]

[font "Times New Roman" A sort of slow grin started lifting up the side of her mouth, but she didn't comment on the event. She recognized that Arndt was apologizing for whatever he'd done.]

[font "Times New Roman" Obviously, Nietzsche was the big dog on campus in more ways than one.]

[font "Times New Roman" This would be much more fun.]

[font "Times New Roman" She looked between the two of them with a raised eyebrow before continuing: [+teal "Uh, I was saying that if this water transportation continues, it's gonna be such a--"] Florence couldn't help herself. She started laughing, her jaw hurting with the effort. She got herself under control after a few seconds, stopping and starting again two or three times. [+teal "Wow, excuse me. Uh, haha, as I was saying, the spread is going to get worse. It'll be harder to find suppliers. So we have to act fast."] Her chest heaved as if to threaten laughing again, but she stopped herself this time, a reckless smile sufficing on her face.]

[font "Times New Roman" So what was Arndt? The Devil's Intern?]

[font "Times New Roman" Why the hell did she have to see him in the first place rather than coming directly to Gweniviere if the metal face was going to be useless?]

[font "Times New Roman" She didn't ask the question out loud.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Have we more to discuss, Nietzsche? I'm feeling a little... jet-lagged. Perhaps you two need some time alone. Hm?"]]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence grinned to herself, eyeing Gwen out of the corner of her eyes. There were no time zone differences between where she'd come from in Austria and where she'd touched down in Berlin. That was a blatant lie, making it painstakingly obvious how little she cared.]

[font "Times New Roman" She crossed back over to the chair she'd been sitting in, very aware of the sound of her heels hitting the walls as she gathered her bag and papers. [+teal "Seems you have something to hash out, yeah? You know how to get to me."]]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor looked between the two of them for a moment before turning and walking the length of the room back to the door, making to leave. [+teal "I have a housewarming party to throw. I look forward to working with you, Nietzsche."]]
  khaleesi / 4y 275d 11h 48m 7s
[font "Times" The Lieutenant straightened and folded the towel over her shoulder, lacing her hands in front of her as she assumed her position to listen. When she was approached for the dossier she accepted it and opened it, glancing over the general summary in the front and then took her eyes from it to focus on what Florence was saying. Apparently the amphetamine was a harsher version of the original, focusing more on the hallucinogenic side of the effect, making the tweakers more dangerous with the unintended side effect of them resembling the late stages of the Bubonic Plague, bleeding out of every orifice as the chemicals in the drug often make the immune system attack itself.

The woman glanced through the details about the effects and autopsies afterwards. her expression turning down in a grim frown as she imagined this. "[B [i Scheiße.]]" she breathed, the oath slipping off of her tongue easily. Medically it was a nightmare. The former military nurse could just see the physical decimation. Even seventy years of being exposed to it hadn't necessarily made her any more numb to the aspect of human suffering, even if you were beyond high to notice it. It must have been terrifying.

Initially, despite the aversion to the idea, the pitch sounded dull and like something Smear didn't even want to bother with. What was the death of so many addicts? Population control, that was what it was. The woman's eyes distanced, disinterested, tolerant as Flor continued until she started noting that it would attract more than just the current addicts. Gweniviere could imagine men hopped up on, if not testosterone alone, anything thinking they were "man enough" to handle it and dying on the spot. Much as she didn't care, the possibility of the drug was staggering. It was only as she continued that the woman's expression changed. Her brows arched above her eyes, though they narrowed suspiciously at the change in accent through the explanation.

Sighing through her nose the Lieutenant crossed her arms over her chest, "[B Unfortunate that it isn't localized in any specific area so we cannot say where it's coming from.]" she said with a frown. "[B Never easy.]"

Gweniviere had her head inclined toward what she was reading, initially shaking her head until Flor spoke up to her specifically and raised it again, arching a brow towards the young woman. Her eyes were stony and calm as she latched onto the woman's challenge but she didn't rise to it, nor make any change in her face.

She was wondering if she was serious until she glanced at Dr. Arndt, who exchanged a look with her shrugging lightly and shaking his head, "[B [+darkgray This is a rather different sort, isn't it.]]" he said, sounding amused and tilting his head.

Gweniviere dropped her eyes, "[B Yes. If the world is destroying itself, who are we to stop it.]" the woman said, closing and setting down the dossier on the desk behind her. "[B I don't think,]" she began, "[B that your employer understands what Smear is all about, does he?]" Gweniviere folded her arms across her chest, leveling a chilling reserve of apathy with the raven haired woman. She set her misgivings aside for the time being, feeling an empathetic want to stop this chemical monstrosity from hitting more streets. "[B But,]" she continued, "[B shouldn't it be our concern nonetheless for the time [i being], doctor?]"

"[B [+darkgray Lieutenant?]]"

"[B Smear needs to lie low for a while, and perhaps doing a bit of cleanup would work as some entertainment while we wait for another chance to make a grab at our initiative. [i Angenehm], Korporal?]" He gave her a quiet look, tapping the file in his hands and sighing audibly through the filters in his respirator, dropping his head and nodding finally. "[B Fine.]" the woman continued, looking back at Florence. "[B Let's get started.]"

"[B Vox,]" she called to what seemed like the empty room until the large glass screen changed and a light on the screen came on. "[B give me specs on any recent deaths to do with new meth overdoses in the Europe area and cluster them accordingly.]"

"[+blue Yes, Lieutenant.]" came the automated little voice.

A map opened up on the computer screen, the Lieutenant promptly ordering it, "[B Expand.]" as she got up from her relaxed position and approached it. The map then opened up wider than the computer screen, showing the expanse of each city apart from one another. Little blue lights shifted through the office, mostly empty so that it could handle the computer's rendering technologies.

The Lieutenant approached the map, gesturing to Dublin and London, "[B See, it makes sense that these two cities are so close to one another to share the problem. Athens is so far away,]" she said, moving her hand down past the Italian peninsula to Greece just East of it, a small distance on the map, but huge in person. "[B though it is at least by the water.]"

"[B [+darkgray It could be a new enterprise, there are fewer deaths there.]]" the doctor said, gesturing from where he was standing.

"[B That means that there is more than one middleman,]" Gweniviere said, turning to Florence briefly before she referred to the dossier file, picking out a few specific papers and crossing to the desk again, setting down the rest. "[B with these we can assume that there is a likelihood that these are being transported by water.]"

Dr. Arndt turned towards the Lieutenant furtively, murmuring in German again, "[B [+darkgray Wenn wir auf dieses medikament unsere hände könnten wir es uns für die liquidation zu verwenden**. Eh?]]" he posed,

Gweniviere gave him a shocked look, asking back, "[B Von leuten?***]"

He spread his hands, "[B [+darkgray Natürlich. Sollten wir empfehlen zu können Einsatzleiter?****]]"

The Lieutenant smacked him in the back of the head, knocking his hat off onto the floor, his graying, mousy hair revealed on top of his head now. "[B If you do that,]" she hissed in English, "[B I will take you off this assignment myself in pieces. [i Was denkst du?]]" the woman demanded.

He raised an arm as if to defend himself as if the file would save him, and opened his free hand, nodding to her. "[B [+darkgray Es tut mir leid, Kapitän.]]"

[u Translations]

*pleasing
**If we get our hands on this drug we could use it ourselves for liquidation.
***for people?
****Naturally. Should we pose it to head of operations?
What are you thinking?
I'm sorry, captain.
  Gweniviere Nietzsche / Tweedy / 4y 276d 13h 35m 36s
[font "Times New Roman" Flor felt her jaw slackening as if actively threatening to drop, but she didn't let it. She had turned slightly in the chair to see her new partner, legs crossed neatly, and stopped in her tracks. What kind of world was it--seven billion people on the planet and she'd meet the same angry German woman she spilled her drink on in London? How horribly convenient.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her brow raised as she took in the sight of the woman--even taller when there were less people around. She had great posture, though, despite that. Long legs. Scars--everywhere. On her face, her neck, her hands. Had those been there before? Flor couldn't be sure; the memory was hazy enough. What, did she step on a land mine and live? Everything on her was pale, from her skin to her eyelashes to her hair. Pale, pale, pale. She was wearing another white shirt, this one stained yet again, but with red instead of a faint golden brown. Blood. Her boots had blood, too. Florence didn't figure it was important for her to know whose. The smaller woman didn't lift or avert her gaze as the German moved across the room, her boots making echoes bounce off the walls, and finally got a glimpse of those eyes. They were gold. Actual gold. Contacts? No. But how?]

[font "Times New Roman" It was obvious that Flor and this woman were not going to get along. They already had bad blood.]

[font "Times New Roman" She could tell she was the subject of the conversation being held in German just within her earshot. Damn, she'd have to learn the language sooner than planned if she was going to be putting up with this bullshit.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her head tilted up and she nodded when English became the main language in the room again. [+teal "Florence Drake,"] she responded curtly, rising to her feet as she did so and opening the bag on the chair she'd been sitting in. [+teal "The pleasure is mine."] Flor pulled out two dossiers in red folders, thick with the amount of papers and such, handing one to Dr. Arndt and one to Gweniviere.]

[font "Times New Roman" At the edge of her mind, she noted how Gweniviere leaned on the Doctor's desk. Comfortable with one another? Strong possibility. But [i how] comfortable? Worth keeping track of.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "As I'm sure you know by now, this is about crystal meth."] Florence cleared her throat for a moment before diving in, faux French accent intact. [+teal "I visited London last month because of Big Brother hearing rumors about a not-so-new drug hitting the market--and hitting it hard. In its first three months on the streets, this monster meth killed twenty-three addicts on the streets of London, Dublin, and Athens that we know of. It is twice as addictive than regular meth, which is quite impressive because meth is already one of the most addictive drugs on the planet. Details on the scientific differences are on page thirty. This addictiveness will attract more and more addicts and first-time users. If they don't die after their first dosage, predictably they will return."] She took a moment to brush a stray hair away from her cheek and to take a breath. [+teal "As it spreads, the population will be infected with poverty, unemployment, and everything that ensues. It will bomb the economy. Essentially, if this drug hits any more countries, we could be facing another Opium War."]]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence stuck one hand into her pocket and pulled out a piece of gum, popping it into her mouth and chewing slowly as she looked over the room again. Still barren and boring. The silence just didn't seem as empty this time.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "While in London, I found a dealer by the name of Kassan, real name Mitchell Dagher. Got some product from him, partied with him for a few days, tailed him. He doesn't go straight to the supplier, whoever that is. There's another middle man. Not sure what he does; I was pulled from the op too soon because of suspicions as to who I was on Dagher's part. We have a half-complete profile for Dagher. That's all we have to start at the moment. We do not have him in custody, as we are still trying to locate the middle man."]]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor's gaze traveled to new partner Gweniviere Nietzsche as she studied her again, unabashed by her own staring. Where could those scars have come from? Bringing a rubber band to a knife fight? Losing a game of tic-tac-toe against a guillotine? And even for a German, her height was impressive, towering above even Dr. Arndt. Certainly towering over the small agent like the Empire State Building. Very well-dressed, save for the blood. Flor was finding herself more and more curious about this partner she was sure to be spending an unhealthy amount of time with.]

[font "Times New Roman" The young agent shifted in her seat, mentally comparing herself to Gweniviere. She was slim and much more feminine in stature and pretty much every other aspect of her being, while Gweniviere was a bit more androgynous long. Flor wore make-up; if Gwen did, it certainly didn't look like there was much on her. Flor was mindful of her fashion sense; it didn't seem like Gwen cared much. The young agent was caramel-skinned; Gwen would be completely lost if it was snowing outside. Florence's hair was long and, most of the time, a wavy sort of straight. Gwen's was short and pushed back and boring.]

[font "Times New Roman" In Florence's mind, they couldn't get any more opposite.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her thumb ran across her jawline as she raised an eyebrow at the two German officers. [+teal "Questions, comments, constructive criticism? Or can we start prepping for this op--Gweniviere?"] She turned to look at the German woman with one eyebrow raised and a challenge in her eye.]
  khaleesi / 4y 276d 19h 11m 56s
[font "Times" The Lieutenant's boots snapped as she walked, the metal cobbling on the heel making a sharp tone reverberating with the steel plate in the back of the heel. She still had the cloth in her hands, wiping blood from the crevices of her fingers was more of a job because the material was not wetted beforehand and she could still feel the light tackiness of it on her skin.

Turning down the proper hallway, the Lieutenant's scarred face fell into the light from the edge of the building, shifting through the broad, tinted windows and turned towards the designated, and often unused because it was a visiting office so was oft left empty save for its furniture, meeting room. Opening the metal door the woman strode inside and turned to shut it behind her.

Dr. Arndt looked up at her, his weak voice, filtered through the respirators on his respirator, emanating cordiality as he opened his hands towards the woman. "[B [+darkgray Ah, Lieutenant Commander. There you are.]]"

She turned her aurelian gaze towards him, "[B Corporal,]" and then shifted her gaze to Flor. The woman's pale brows came together in a frowning look, her mouth tightening into a look of vague distaste at the appearance of the shorter woman, recognizing the face that was wan with shock to see [i her]. Passing the young woman Gweniviere turned her attention to Dr. Arndt, "[B [i Ist das ein witz*?]]" she asked in a low tone, coming up near him, her head reaching above his easily.

He paused a moment, glancing towards Florence with an manner that spoke of confusion, "[B [+darkgray Nein, Kapitänleutnant. Sie ist Ansprechpartnerin**.]]" Dr. Arndt gestured at the young agent.

The snowy haired woman arched her brows, speaking to him silently [i Is that so...?] and then turned back to her. "[B Guten abend, fraulein. I am Lieutenant Gweniviere Nietzsche, I am going to be working with you on this.]" Her expression remained stoic and reserved as she spoke, inclining her head and shoulders towards the young woman in stiff formality. "[B It's a pleasure.]"

Her sharp, golden colored eyes moved over Florence's form, taking in her body language that was beginning to recover from the shock of seeing her. A spit of disdain shifted through her, Gweniviere's first impression already being made about the distasteful impostor, as she so proudly referred to herself as. If that was the excuse for an agent that her people were using this was going to be a quick mission, and likely a failure unless she could work well enough around her. The Lieutenant figured that her pride, seething through the very pores in her smooth skin, would make her spout off again improperly to others about her accents and her pride in so many languages. Based off of the stereotype she had seen popularized in Hollywood films, she would be the perfect bitch of a "loose cannon" as it were. Perfect. It always seemed like she was landed with the juveniles, made to be the babysitter for most of her partnerships.

She took in the dress of the young woman, in her fashionable colors and suit. Gweniviere appreciated it, thinking it looked rather becoming of the young woman's more hourglass figure- compared to the Lieutenant's own rather straight and androgynous body, stretched and forced into its shape by the super soldier serum she had been administered back in 1943. It had taken her from a height of 5'10" to her current hover around 6'3"-4" in a matter of about five minutes with electrical stimulation. The process was less than enviable, she would recall, being strapped to a metal table through which her body was used as a conductor to make the serum function, after being injected through the inner corner of her left eye straight into her pituitary gland .

Her scarred face turned in the light, now much better than that which was in the club the two had met in, and with the sleeves of her spattered white button up the extent of the scarring on her forearms was presented as well. On her face the woman had a thick scar reaching up the right side of her face from the corner of her mouth, making it look forever put to the side and slightly dismayed or frowning. Above her right brow was another, her lips cut diagonally with one, a second just on her lower lip, and another ran over her left cheekbone, lastly one underneath her left eye. Below her jaw was the beginning of what was a myriad of scars that ribbed her throat of various length, angle and all overlapping one another over the expanse of her throat, evidenced to continue beneath her open collar down over her chest. Her hands were lined here and there with scars from various conflicts and such, some being the glassy patches of burn scars, and others the long, or short knicks and deep lacerations of knife wounds. Her right hand specifically had one that extended, mirrored on her palm, between the first knuckles of her middle and ring finger down towards her wrist, showing her hand had been cleaved at one point.

Underneath them, the woman wasn't unattractive with an angular, sharp face and sharp features and she kept in good hygiene, her white shirt tucked into her darker pants sitting on her fancifully, fit to her straight but strong frame. She was by no means built like an action hero, to use colloquial language, but she had the obvious curve of working muscle that laid closer, leaner on the body, not padded with steroids.

The woman turned her back towards the desk, her stance sturdy, legs apart, and leaned on its edge, crossing her ankles as she waited for Flor to speak to her.

[u Translations]
*German Is this a joke?
**No, Captain/Commander lieutenant. She is the contact.
  Gweniviere Nietzsche / Tweedy / 4y 277d 9h 34m 30s
[font "Times New Roman" Berlin was nice. It wasn't that she'd never been there before more than it just hadn't been much of a visit worth remembering. Most places she visited were for work--scratch that, everywhere she went was for work. Sometimes she let herself have a bit of fun while she was away.]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor was quick to learn that the rain fell differently in Germany than it fell in Austria, Slovakia, and Vietnam. The rain fell differently everywhere. She wasn't sure where her train of thought was going with that.]

[font "Times New Roman" There were no GPS directions to the building owned by the ominously named institution titled "Smear". Just some hush-hush whisperings from her superiors back home. Or as close to home as that could be considered.]

[font "Times New Roman" They had sent a car for her to drive so that no one would know the location of Smear. Whoever these people were, they were very secretive. Flor's own homebase didn't know much about them. They told her whatever they could, but the dossier was very light.]

[font "Times New Roman" Classical music played lightly in the background as she did her best to navigate the German streets. Her German wasn't very good at the moment; she was scheduled to begin her training in it once she'd perfected the Russian language and appropriate accent. It was stressful, but useful at times.]

[font "Times New Roman" She didn't even like classical music. She had no idea why she'd chosen it.]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor drove around the block three times to make sure she wasn't being followed, per the request of her superiors. Then she picked up her messenger bag, sighed, and stalked into the building.]

[font "Times New Roman" The wind slightly russled her hair and her clothes. The sun was bright outside, causing her to squint into the sky. What a beautiful day. What a beautiful city.]

[font "Times New Roman" Ever since her mission in London a month ago, she was beginning to appreciate cities that didn't rain on her head every five minutes.]

[font "Times New Roman" "Florence Drake" was on the waiting list. Flor couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why the directors decided they'd use her current fake name instead of her real one for this meeting, but she didn't question it or contradict it when she was asked to "follow me right through here, into the elevator..." to the meet the head of Smear. Whatever. That was a matter to be addressed at a later date.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her heels sounded throughout the hallway as she proceeded. Upon exiting the elevator, she adjusted her clothes a bit. "Look professional," they'd said. As if she didn't always dress for her part. Blazer, bow tie, "professional bitch" pants--which were just black slacks, dark blue button-down shirt. As professional as she was going to get.]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor wasn't too keen on being chained to a partner. But if she wanted to get paid, she'd do as they told her to do. So there wasn't actually much of an actual choice.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her escort gestured to the door Flor assumed she was supposed to stop at before opening it and ushering her through. It was promptly closed behind her.]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence swept her gaze around the room and determined there wasn't actually much to see. Just standard, professional stuff. Nothing to hint at his personality. Not even a prized moose head hanging off the walls.]

[font "Times New Roman" Speaking of him--he didn't have a face. She knew Smear was secretive, but a glorified gas mask and every part of his body covered? Wasn't that a bit excessive? Didn't he get hot?]

[font "Times New Roman" Still, Flor crossed the room with her ego very much intact beside her. The bag was repositioned on her shoulder before she extended her hand to complete the shake. She offered him a small, polite smile.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "I would be happy to,"] the girl stated, unneeded as it was, as she moved across the room to set herself down in one of the black chairs. A little uncomfortable with its stiffness, but it was enough. The sound of technology was the only sound that reached her ears.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her mouth again only as words died on her lips once the door was quietly opened.]
  khaleesi / 4y 277d 10h 26m 16s
[font "Times" The Lieutenant turned away, ignoring her, and left for home. Even in London, when she was told she was better off calling cabs instead of using a vehicle of her own, she yet had one because the Lieutenant was not keen on relying on anyone else to get her in or out of a situation.

[center [pic https://onestoryslinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/untitled.png]]

The Lieutenant's hands sank under the soft flesh of her subject, curling around the flap of skin that she had loosed from its place on the man's forearm and slipped her fingers underneath the skin, severing the little tendrils of tissues that kept the organ atop the fat and muscle layers. Skilled fingers then started pulling at it to shift the flesh away from the spot they wanted it while the man next to her started to scrape away the fat a bit from the area and exposed the muscle, spritzing it with a saline solution to keep it from drying out. The subject shrieked, his voice going hoarse and breaking with the effort. The woman freed a hand, wringing it once before closing her fingers around the man's jaw, pulling his head towards her.

The woman's feral golden eyes narrowed as she glared at him from over the surgeon's mask, "[B You're not [i working] with me, Hammond!]" the woman hissed

One of the other guards heads then twitched towards the comms device strapped to his shoulder, listening to its babble before he spoke up, "[i Lieutenant.]"

The tall, German woman let go, leaning her hands on the arms of the chair the man was strapped to and turned her head, eyes frowning over the surgeon's mask she had over her mouth and nose, pulling it down over her mouth. "[B Yes, what?]"

The shrieks of her subject rang out in the room, quickly quieting down to moaning whines of pain as he tried not to move and aggravate the heavily bleeding wound. "[i Dr. Arndt is on comms asking for you.]"

"[B Noted. And what about it?]"

"[i He says it's urgent. There is a contact who needs your attention regarding an intelligence bit that Head wants you to work alongside as enforcement. An informant.]"

Taking a moment, the lieutenant glanced back at Hammond, "[B Well, I suppose you're lucky then.]" she said, the imposing woman retracting the the injured man's personal space. "[B Take this time to reflect on how much you want me to continue this before you start conversing with me.]" With that she gestured forth the nurses standing at attention and turned away, grabbing the cloth hung on the metal table by the chair and wiping her hands off on it. The woman's sleeves were rolled to her elbows, and her white button up shirt was splattered with some blood from the man's flailing, but it wasn't bad. And she couldn't do anything about it, summoned as she was. Her gray pants were tucked into knee high, black leather boots of which she didn't bother cleaning of blood, knowing the metal alloy paneled floors were easy to wash. She pulled off the surgeon's mask from her face, depositing it onto the table and called into the doctor.

[center [pic https://onestoryslinger.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/untitled.png]

[pic http://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/14/ec/c5/14ecc5089a5a2e50f8b612809f51396c.jpg]]

Flor had been escorted into an interior office space in the black, glass and steel paneled building. Inside, there was standing a man with a glass faced respirator over his entire head, his black uniform pressed and in good keep. He wasn't very big, standing on average at something like 6'0" in American measurement. He stood at the head of a desk at the far side of the large, open room, faced on one side with a wall of tinted windows, and on the other with a large, standing glass screen with some blue, and other colored, computer generated images and such things spread across it.

The desk he stood behind was large and dark, the whole complex reflecting the same edge of design, the hum of machinery quietly thrumming through the walls, but otherwise the office was quiet. In front of the desk were two black upholstered, stuffed chairs.

The man's black leather gloved hands were folded pertly in front of him, standing attentively despite his general lack of a face. His head cocked as he heard her come in, "[B [+darkgray Hello, miss Drake.]]" came his cultured, intuitive voice as she entered, striding forwards to meet her and extending a hand for a shake. "[B [+darkgray The Lieutenant will be along shortly to discuss further action on what information you say you have for us. In the meantime, I am Dr. Arndt, military Corporal officer. Would you like to have a seat?]]"
  Gweniviere Nietzsche / Tweedy / 4y 277d 19h 53m 50s
[font "Times New Roman" He was easy to convince. She didn't look much like a traitor, but perhaps just enough of a liar that he was convinced she was into that lifestyle. Maybe part of her still was. She'd been into the wild, restless hair, the dopey eyes, the wicked, energetic smile that was empty and false. That had been her. "Once or twice" was how she convinced herself that that old girl didn't ever exist.]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence looked into the bartender's eyes and saw nothing but greed and lust. She smiled.]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "What are you gonna do for me if I hook you up?"] he was asking seductively as she fingered the rim of her new glass. [b "I could lose my job. I could go to jail."]]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "I'd owe you,"] the caramel-skinned girl answered with a graceful, practiced grin. Men didn't want anything more than a body. They were all the same.]

[font "Times New Roman" He scoffed as he cleaned out a glass, as if it was a hard decision. She could see from the gleam in his teeth that he wasn't going to turn her down.]

[font "Times New Roman" She couldn't determine if it was pure luck that the bartender would know exactly what she was talking about or if it was some kind of elaborate setup. Who knew, maybe this was the starter conversation for a human trafficking ring. People did the shittiest things in nightlife scenes like this.]

[font "Times New Roman" The man's attention was drawn away--Flor reminded herself to ask for his name at some point. She might need it.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her eyes did not follow to find who he was talking to until she heard that voice. The same one with the accent that she had run into on the dancefloor.]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor's gaze moved slowly, almost as if in a bit of surprise even though it was slight praise--for bravery, no less--before they settled on the taller woman. Her eyebrow rose at the fluent French before the corner of her mouth quirked up into a slight grin. She returned the slow assessment she recieved--taking note of the short hair, almost screaming at the personal discipline the woman must put herself through. The suit, probably meaning she either had money or high standards. Maybe both. The bad lights didn't do much for her face, but Flor guessed dark eyes. Nice enough facial structure. She didn't smile often. And what was with the pale? Albino? Living in a basement?]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence dipped her head, raising her voice above the music a bit to comment, [+teal "Vous devriez me voir pendant la journée* if you're into staring. Night."]]

[font "Times New Roman" The bartender returned with raised eyebrows. [b "That your friend?"]]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor smiled softly and shook her head slightly, biting her lip. [+teal "No. You're my friend. And you know what friends do? [i Help each other out.]"]]

[font "Times New Roman" He looked like a real dork with the way he just about giggled and rubbed the back of his neck. [b "Well, look... I'll give you my guy's number. I'll tell him you're calling."]]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Aw."] The woman pretended to be thankful and touched as she put her right hand over her heart and tilted her head a bit as she smiled at him. [+teal "Thanks..."]]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "Lucas."]]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Of course. Thank you, Lucas."]]

[font "Times New Roman" Lucas pulled out a napkin from the bartop beside Florence and a pen from his pocket, writing in a messy scrawl the phone number of someone named "Kassan". His handwriting was absolutely horrifying, but legible for the most part. Flor thanked him "sincerely" and had her hand linger on his for far too long, but anything to make him feel flattered and that she was the kind of girl Kassan would be looking for. Good.]

[font "Times New Roman" The female quickly swallowed the rest of her drink and spun on her heel, heading back out onto the dancefloor. She didn't want to dance much, but it would feel a bit suspicious to just get what she wanted and leave. And besides, she had a bit of excess energy to spend.]

[font "Times New Roman" She was accepted by the crowd almost immediately. There were moving bodies on every side of her, bumping and grinding in rhythm. This was her favorite part of the nightlife she loved: the feeling of community among strangers, the odd sensation of perhaps going deaf, being able to feel the bass in your ribcage. It rattled the bones and set the birds she'd been trapping in there free. It expanded and contracted her breath. She felt ethereal.]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor wasn't sure how long she'd been on the floor before it felt like everything was spinning. She was spinning, the ceiling, the floor, the room... everything was moving and twisting and warping itself. The sound began to feel oppressive. The closeness of the bodies made her feel claustrophobic.]

[font "Times New Roman" She coughed, a sudden sense of urgency and panic pushing her to shove her way off the dancefloor. Cool air. She needed some cold London night air. She was [i choking...]]

[font "Times New Roman" The woman burst out onto the street as if she'd been trapped inside, gasping for air and stumbling over the sidewalk. The line that had been present when she'd gotten there was gone. There was no bouncer. Everything felt quiet.]

[font "Times New Roman" But she was still struggling to regain her bearings. Funny, that a panic attack would occur here for no reason. Just when she thought she'd outgrown them.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her wobbly legs carried her to the side of the building with the vibrations still fighting to pulse into the night air. She pulled out her phone to call a cab, deciding there was no way she was going to go back in there. Too embarrassing. Too much risk.]

[font "Times New Roman" Her heart was screaming as it raced in every pulse point in her body, trembling fingers barely able to press the buttons needed to call her ride home. The irony alone was almost too much to handle. Almost. But an ego like hers could overcome just about anything.]

[font "Times New Roman" She took in huge gulps of breath like she was trying to swallow the world.]

--
*You should see me during the day
  khaleesi / 4y 278d 11h 55m 56s
[font "Times" The Lieutenant took a sip of her drink then, it was a very dry white wine that harshened on her tongue the longer she let it linger before sending its bite down her scarred throat. The woman's face was a hard mask of calm, serious distaste, though her eyes were burning with icy, reserved distaste as she glanced over the young woman. [i Impersonation?] Sure, the Lieutenant could pick up on the touch of an accent, but it slipped in and out so inconsistently she assumed she was either socialized or simply impaired. No matter what, it did not make a person any less American if they were socialized as such. She simply arched a slender brow, pressing the scar above her right brow into pearly paleness, unimpressed at the show of language and put off by the very strange mention of '[i impersonation]'.

The woman's sharp gaze, unhindered in its expression even behind the brown contact lenses, narrowed. She clearly wasn't an American based on the use of 'Oi' in the sentence before she slipped into French. Impersonating an American accent? What was this English freak, a petty actor too stuck up high in her own ass to look around herself and see her wrong? The woman's stomach turned at the thought of what she must be like to work with or direct, for god's sake. Gweniviere briefly imagined her acting something like Audrey Hepburn with her hatred of the way her own neck looked, refusing to wear anything but a high collar, or some neurotic, actress nonsense like that. She shook her head in wonder.

Was this supposed to impress the woman? Nothing was more American, or disgustingly, imperialistically caucasian as to show off your grasp of insulting languages in other tongues as an example of your own, what, intelligence? Any bird could repeat a phrase in another language simply because it liked the sound of it. Gweniviere recalled a young, Dutch agent she was acquainted with that repeated the word 'lobelia' under her breath for the bulk of the latter half of the day she had learned it because it sounded lovely. And it was only an American who would wrinkle their nose and turn it up at the accent of another person- criticizing their incoming workers for not speaking English well enough to fit their tastes, when it was a miracle in and of itself that they spoke fluently.

And when the spirited thing finally let herself slip away, thankfully instead of taking anything any further than they had to be, the Lieutenant nodded her head to the side instead of rolling her eyes as far back as she was sure they would and displace her color contact lenses. She tipped her own glass briefly, muttering a flat, "[B Cheers.]" before taking another sip of her drink and turning away. The German woman was ready to leave now.

"[#99ee00 Are you off, then?]" the slender, tall young woman asked of whom she had been enjoying the company of for those brief moments, pushing her glasses up her nose with the tip of a pink-bellied finger, the rest daintily holding the stem of a wine glass. Her beautiful, dark skin glistened under the lights, pulling a softly crooked smile up on the Lieutenant's lips as she glanced over the woman's stylishly punk hair.

"[B I am afraid so, I'd prefer not to smell of American whiskey [i all] night long.]" she said, giving her tone a hint of good nature. She recognized the heady bite of Jack Daniels anywhere, its potent, yet somehow watery taste, probably something to do with the melted ice cube she flicked out of a fold in her shirt, tucked into her belt as they were. The Lieutenant's hand then flickered to an inner pocket in her coat and flipped out a business card with black printing on it. "[B Ta. Keep in touch, I'm sure a genius mind like yourself could be extremely valuable in the right seat.]"

The young woman's full lips pulled into a smirk as she took the card and tucked it under the collar of her black tank top against the soft flesh of her breast. "[#99ee00 I like the way you compliment me, kraut. Lemme talk with my sister and I'll see what I can do for you.]" she said, tipping her glass towards Gweniviere.

At the English generality for a German, Gweniviere's easy grin stiffened slightly, but she tilted her glass to clink it against the other's in place of a handshake, "[B Cheers.]" and turned away. With that she started the slightly laborious task of crossing to the other side of the club and back to the bar. Once there she barely glanced at the strange foreigner and tapped the glass of the bar, "[B Tender,]" she called gently. The man, leaning on his forearms across from the obstiné* woman. Gweniviere raised her glass a bit, his eyes flicking to it, "[B returning this.]" she said, setting it across the glass to the bar behind it so it wouldn't be toppled by someone.

She nodded towards Flor with reserved, cool politeness, "[B [i Bonsoir étranger bizarre.**]]" and pulled back from the bar, making to turn and leave after glancing her over. She had a nice body, it seemed such a waste of talent for people able able to keep such a figure, but that focus being twisted by vain, narcissistic women like that one. She turned away and ran a hand through her pale hair, starkly contrasting with the sleek black of her suit, and pale hands.

[u Translation]
French: *pigheaded
**Goodnight, weird foreigner.

[i OOC:] Also future note- when I use language like 'make to leave' or 'as if to do so and so' that is me posing that is what Gweniviere is going to do if uninterrupted, but she is able to be interrupted I'm just stating that is what she is planning to do and will do if your character won't interfere. I don't know why but some partners assume when I write these that they're like a set deal and message me like 'can my character do this' or 'can you keep him/her/xer there so I can this' and I'm like I did already... I'm sure you're smart enough to figure it out but [i just in case].
  Gweniviere Nietzsche / Tweedy / 4y 284d 9h 16m 17s
[font "Times New Roman" To be honest, as soon as the words came out of her mouth, Florence was kind of regretting talking. She didn't feel like fighting; maybe it was just the annoyance of the atmosphere getting to her.]

[font "Times New Roman" This...giant...looked like she was just minding her own business. It was the kind of thing that could be summed up by saying "wrong place wrong time."]

[font "Times New Roman" But Flor had already kicked the ball into motion, so what was the point in stopping it?]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence almost laughed at the American comment--almost, but not quite; instead she opted for a sarcastic chuckle. She didn't have anything against America, much less their women. They made some bad decisions, sure, but they paid well when they were being nosy. Their president was a nice guy. She was sure he'd be offended if he heard what this woman with the accent thicker than two miles of molasses had to say.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "I consider it a compliment on my impersonations of an American accent, thank you,"] the smaller woman responded with a smug grin. Covering up her own accent was hard, especially considering the way tongues were expected to wrap around words in certain languages. You could be easily spotted as a traitor and liar if your accent did not fit the culture you claimed to come from. Florence Drake, she was from a small town in France, thus the faint French accent. Perhaps not strong enough to pass as French, perhaps too faint. She'd have to work on that.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Oi, I did happen to notice it's dark, which is the same color your eye's gonna be if you putain parler avec condescendance a moi*. Ach, what can I expect from немецкий мусора**?"]]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor smiled, tilting her drink up to the taller woman as she raised her eyebrows. [+teal "Fun chat we had, Jolly Green Giant, I have somewhere else to be American. Shoud make sure you wash that shirt in cold water, huh?"]]

[font "Times New Roman" With that, she decided she'd had enough. The smaller woman stepped back and let the crowd fill her place, turning and balancing delicately as she pushed her way through again, settling down at the bar a second time.]

[font "Times New Roman" The bartender came over when he could, offering a sympathetic smile. [b "Finished it that fast, did you?"]]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence shook her head and gave him a little grin. [+teal "Nah, I spilled it on Jack and the Beanstalk, unfortunately. I need another one."]]

[font "Times New Roman" He nodded, making the drink quick enough considering the traffic at the bar. Most people took theirs and left, but Flor stuck around because she needed to get back in the dancing mood; she'd lost it by running into that German skyscraper.]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "What's your name, then?"]]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Florence,"] she almost muttered. At his reaction, she shrugged. [+teal "Pretty unfortunate."]]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "Tourist or new resident?"]]

[font "Times New Roman" Flor grinned, knocking back more of the alcohol before just deciding to laugh. [+teal "Resident."] Lie. Or half lie, technically. She did indeed live in London, but she was only there as long as it would take for her to gather information on a drug dealer currently putting a spin on crystal meth. A spin the United States wouldn't like too much.]

[font "Times New Roman" She herself had partaken into drugs once or twice, but never considered herself an addict or anything. Just a bit of boredom cured by a bit of fun.]

[font "Times New Roman" Anyway, even if she did consider this a night off, she was still working. South Africa had done her well in terms of the job not being too tough; she could only hope London would do her the same favor.]

[font "Times New Roman" Shouldn't be too much, though. Drug dealers weren't hard; all men liked were pretty girls who were submissive under their hands. Easy.]

[font "Times New Roman" She'd already forgotten about her run-in with the angry German woman.]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "Aye, well I hope you like it."]]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Yes, well, I'm bored a lot..."] Florence stirred her drink slowly and turned puppy eyes on him, even venturing to poke her lip out a little. [+teal "If you catch my drift."]]

[font "Times New Roman" He raised his eyebrows at her, a small grin spreading on his lips. Crazy how easy it was to catch a man like a bear trap.]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "I think I do."]]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Know where I can buy some happiness, then?"]]

-
*fucking talk down to me
**german waste
  khaleesi / 4y 284d 17h 5m 50s
[font "Times" It had been a long night already, the Lieutenant having landed in London just a few hours ago to start staking out the London area. It was a rainy city, and the Lieutenant enjoyed it- however tonight she had a mind to keep herself dry in her well-fit suit. It was rather new, having torn the arm on her favored one in a surprise knife fight of which she was already healed.

That night she had chosen to take a break from monitoring the activities of her subject and go out to find something. A release, if she could- which required she don brown contact lenses over the golden of her eyes, altered by the [i wundersoldaten] serum so she could at least look somewhat less... eccentric.

She had been at the club only for about twenty minutes, quickly starting to think she should leave as it seemed little but cramped and too warm. The glass in her hand was sweating even with wine in it. She gave a hum of distaste as she shifted her weight on her feet, making her way towards the back.

The woman had just turned around to see someone who had nudged her when she suddenly felt the cold, spreading touch of spilled liquid on her front. Had the area been any larger she could have had the room to perhaps catch it- but that wasn't happening clearly as she looked down at the faint color of the stain.

Her eyes rose to the slim face of the perpetrator, painted like a doll as she snapped at the taller German woman, standing roughly 6'4" in her present shoes, as if she were the one to blame. "[B I do.]" Gweniviere's scarred face remained stony as she gazed at the smaller woman before her pale lips twisted into a disgusted sneer, "[B You would think that an American would be smart enough to know when it's her fault. But I suppose it's to be expected of an American woman, isn't it?]" Her accent wasn't overpowering, but presently different from the English with her Germanic roots.

The woman glowered down at the little thing talking at her and arched a judgmental, pale brow at the woman's note of her height, "[B Well spotted,]" she commended in a mocking tone, "[B it's also nighttime, did you happen to notice that as well?]" Gweniviere stated, arching her brows together.

She narrowed her sharp eyes, feeling the brown contact lenses over her eyes shift just slightly, flicking her white hair to the side of its part again with a movement of her head. "[B You'd best watch your mouth, [i Amerikanischen schwein]*. Or you'll get in trouble, I don't care how drunk you are.]" She was exerting a fierce amount of control over herself to resist upending her own drink on the girl's head, if not striking and flooring the little cretin with the tone she was taking with her- she had even thought to be somewhat polite and just dump it at her feet. White wine washed out easier than red, after all. But she was being sorely tempted to take out her temper on the snappish little American with how she was carrying on. People like her were a huge part of the reason she had gotten into the underground military intelligence field in the first place. The Americans needed to be either sorely brought to realize their own fallibility, or they and their toxic culture needed to be extinguished , as far as she was concerned.

"[B Tch,]" the woman sneered, turning her head away from her, pulling the wet material of her white, buttoning shirt from her stomach, "[B [i typical].]" At least now she had a reasonable excuse to leave, she supposed, preparing to just ignore what had just happened. This was a public space- no need to make herself any more of a spectacle than she already was as an over six foot, angular woman with scars on her face, throat and hands with white hair.

[u Translation]
*German: American pig
  Gweniviere Nietzsche / Tweedy / 4y 288d 15h 41m 7s
[font "Times New Roman" She hated her new name.]

[font "Times New Roman" The past few had been tolerable enough to where she wouldn't mind keeping them for an extended period of time--but Florence Drake? She sounded like some flower child that had gotten lost on her way back to the seventies. But no one cared much for her vanity, so she was who her passport said.]

[font "Times New Roman" She'd just finished a job overseas in South Africa before settling down in the notoriously rainy city of London. It didn't rain nearly as much as it was made out to, but she still didn't leave her little apartment without an umbrella. Pay was good; she could afford to live in a nice place for the little time she'd spend in the city. Staying longer than two months could, after all, get rather dangerous for someone in her profession.]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence looked in the expansive mirror of her bathroom and perfected her eyeliner, lips opened in an 'O' shape as music played softly in the background .]

[font "Times New Roman" Plans to go out tonight! No friends, no boo, none of that, but [i definitely] a will to bring someone home! Or, if this could count as home, at least.]

[font "Times New Roman" Finishing up her face, Florence winked at herself in the mirror in approval and grinned as she left the bathroom. All dolled up, her naturally curly hair was finally lying flat, caramel skin clearer than a porcelain doll, glowing like a candle, legs long enough to ascend a staircase in a single step. Well... that might've been exaggerating...at 5'8", she considered that long enough, dammit.]

[font "Times New Roman" The door closed behind her just shy of slamming, a bit of a reflexive apology spilling from her mouth into the empty hall. It felt too quiet; even the sound of her car starting seemed to cut some of the thick silence in half. It was like she'd picked a retirement community to live in or something.]

[font "Times New Roman" Well, that could ease some suspicions about her neighbors, at least. Selling secrets for money could make you a bit... paranoid about people. Once two years ago, after all, a woman she'd been messing around with turned out to be someone that was supposed to kill her that just hadn't gotten the confirmation to do it yet.]

[font "Times New Roman" What a bitch, right?]

[font "Times New Roman" The club was loud. Not too loud to where Florence felt the need to pull out her hearing aid for conversation, but loud enough to where she had to yell just short of screaming so the bouncer would let her the hell in. It was pretty exclusive and she'd had to hack into the system to add her name to the list.]

[font "Times New Roman" She slipped in and melded into the crowd, warm bodies surging past and around her. More than one pair of hands had to be slapped away from places they truly did not belong.]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence pushed and shoved and cursed her way to the bar, flagging the bartender down. For a club that was supposed to be "excusive", there sure was a shitton of people...]

[font "Times New Roman" The man finally got over to her after ten minutes of waiting and deflecting flirting from other patrons.]

[font "Times New Roman" [b "What can I get for ya tonight?"] the guy asked with an enthusiastic grin that was contradicted by the dead look in his eyes.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Jack Daniel's on the rocks, if you wouldn't mind,"] she told him with a smile--one that quickly deteriorated once he asked her to repeat because of her various accents overlapping and mashing her syllables and letters together.]

[font "Times New Roman" He apologized and rubbed the back of his neck in a cute way that made Florence forgive him for a moment. He made her drink and slid it across the counter, telling her it was on the house for the misunderstanding and a welcome to London. Whatever.]

[font "Times New Roman" The female wrapped slender light brown fingers around the glass, thanked the bartender, and disappeared off into the crowd. The music was still loud and it was jumping, so she had to literally cradle her drink to avoid getting it tossed all over the ground. Funny, that she'd pick a table all the way on the other side of the dancefloor. And by 'funny' she meant 'amazingly inconvenient'.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Excuse me... 'scuse me... Comin' through--I SAID EXCUSE ME, DAMMIT... Okay, [i you] need to move..."]]

[font "Times New Roman" And yet somehow the drink ended up getting spilled anyway. Some girl was enjoying herself a little too much and tripped right into Flor's back as she was passing by, causing the whole glass to basically upend itself on someone else's shirt.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Ah, shit."]]

[font "Times New Roman" Florence sighed and dropped her shoulders, angling her gaze up to see who she'd spilled her free (!!!free!!!) drink on.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "Don't you Londoners watch where you're going?"] she demanded, knowing full well this tall ass stranger wasn't the one to blame. Like, seriously tall. Tall as hell. Flor herself was 5'8" and even taller in the heels she was wearing, but still this woman towered over her.]

[font "Times New Roman" [+teal "You are like... unreasonably tall. You know you have [i no] business being that damn tall. But you'd think with all that height, you could [i see] where you were [i going], but [i noooo...]"]
  khaleesi / 4y 298d 12h 57m 47s
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