InsaneJournal

As far as campaign galas went, it was a pretty extravagant one. There was a snazzy band on the stage playing an equally jazzy tune, couples dressed to the nines dancing, and many waiters. To Graham Shepherd, it seemed as much a fund raiser as a campaign gala for the hopeful governor to be, Charles Wentworth. Then again, he figured they were about the same thing - raising money for the campaign while gathering the support and respect of the well-to-do of New York society. The gala hadn't really been kicked off yet, and although he'd caught a few short interviews with some important guests, until the governor got things rolling with his speech, Graham was feeling a bit restless. He, too, was dressed in his finest - a nice tuxedo, complete with bow-tie and everything. His usually unruly hair had a considerable amount of gel in it to keep it tamed... at least for a good hour or so, anyway. His interviewing tools had been momentarily stuffed into the pockets of his jacket as he snatched a bit of food from the tray of a passing waiter. He had the misfortune of tasting something very disgusting, however, and after making a face, he returned what was left of it to another tray, snatching a glass of champagne neatly with the same movement. Graham quickly tossed the liquid back into his throat, hoping to get rid of the horrible taste he'd just swallowed. So much for hoping the over-priced food might be the least bit pleasant!

In an effort to escape the gala for just a bit before things really got started, he stepped outside, down the stairs, and around the side of the building. He doubted anyone would get annoyed at his smoking this far from the entrance, and it was silent outside, anyway. Latecomers were probably still on their way, so there was no one about. Unfortunately... there was also no one to ask for a light. Graham really wasn't an obsessive smoker, and he'd been meaning to really quit, but it was just something that cleared his head sometimes. As luck would have it, he caught motion in the corner of his eyes, and someone in the shadows.

"Ah, brilliant, hello there! Would you happen to have a light, mate?"

Whether or not the stranger did indeed have the light, he or she did not offer Graham one. No sooner had he spoken and turned that the attack came. He wasn't exactly a wimp by any means, but he had been caught off guard, and the stranger seemed... well, quite professional at his line of work. Although Graham struggled, he was, unfortunately, no match for his attacker. His last thoughts before he felt a sharp prick on the side of his neck were mixed with annoyance, panic...and regret, that he hoped he wouldn't die over the little money and cards he currently had in his wallet.