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Week Eight - Saturday
Who: Slade and Anthony
Where: His place
When: Dinnertime
What: A bit of plottage, perhaps?
It had been far too long since she and Anthony had spent an evening cooking up the downfall of a mutual or, in this case individual, enemy whom they saw fit to take care of. Her curiosity was admittedly getting the better of her; it had been in full swing since the very first mention of the trouble that could be to come in the e-mail she'd sent to announce her return home - the very e-mail that had lead to their dinner plans for this evening. Truly, it was the conversation she was looking forward to most, nothing got an appetite going like talk of ruining lives and plotting against others. Now that the hour to share such delicious issues was nearly at hand, she could almost taste the havoc they could wreak.
Slade had even done so far as to dig up the gift box he'd left for her so soon after his arrival to Seattle, pulling it from it the black scrap he'd claimed was a dress. Usually she would dress for no man, wouldn't wear such a ridiculous get up if you paid her, but for tonight she was making an exception. After all, if he was going to give her the chance to cause a bit of trouble, then surely she could repay such generosity by donning some silly dress.
She left her office with enough time to come home and take a quick shower, washing away the scent that clung to Seattle, that faint hint of paltry little humans that clung to her high priced power-suits at the end of the day. Dark hair was washed and blow dried straight, then curled before she pinned it up and out of the way for the night - baring a tempting line of neck could never hurt when dealing with a vampire now could it? Or perhaps she simply liked to play with fire...it was her element, after all. Those icy eyes of hers were rimmed in smoky kohl liner, lips glossed in a pale pink before she tugged that little bit of fabric up over her curves. She toyed a moment with the rouching at the side, tying it off to bear a tempting glimpse of thigh. All that was left was pulling on a pair of black, strappy heels and lifting the black clutch she'd filled with what she'd need from its resting place.
Obviously the walk to Anthony's wasn't that long, in a matter of moment's she stood just outside his door. The sun had set nearly an hour earlier, plenty of time for him to be up and moving about. Raising a hand, she knocked loudly, waiting for him to let her in.
Where: His place
When: Dinnertime
What: A bit of plottage, perhaps?
It had been far too long since she and Anthony had spent an evening cooking up the downfall of a mutual or, in this case individual, enemy whom they saw fit to take care of. Her curiosity was admittedly getting the better of her; it had been in full swing since the very first mention of the trouble that could be to come in the e-mail she'd sent to announce her return home - the very e-mail that had lead to their dinner plans for this evening. Truly, it was the conversation she was looking forward to most, nothing got an appetite going like talk of ruining lives and plotting against others. Now that the hour to share such delicious issues was nearly at hand, she could almost taste the havoc they could wreak.
Slade had even done so far as to dig up the gift box he'd left for her so soon after his arrival to Seattle, pulling it from it the black scrap he'd claimed was a dress. Usually she would dress for no man, wouldn't wear such a ridiculous get up if you paid her, but for tonight she was making an exception. After all, if he was going to give her the chance to cause a bit of trouble, then surely she could repay such generosity by donning some silly dress.
She left her office with enough time to come home and take a quick shower, washing away the scent that clung to Seattle, that faint hint of paltry little humans that clung to her high priced power-suits at the end of the day. Dark hair was washed and blow dried straight, then curled before she pinned it up and out of the way for the night - baring a tempting line of neck could never hurt when dealing with a vampire now could it? Or perhaps she simply liked to play with fire...it was her element, after all. Those icy eyes of hers were rimmed in smoky kohl liner, lips glossed in a pale pink before she tugged that little bit of fabric up over her curves. She toyed a moment with the rouching at the side, tying it off to bear a tempting glimpse of thigh. All that was left was pulling on a pair of black, strappy heels and lifting the black clutch she'd filled with what she'd need from its resting place.
Obviously the walk to Anthony's wasn't that long, in a matter of moment's she stood just outside his door. The sun had set nearly an hour earlier, plenty of time for him to be up and moving about. Raising a hand, she knocked loudly, waiting for him to let her in.