Tanith's laughter made it through loud and clear. Morticia started hissing at the phone. Treat chuckled under his breath. Treat very well knew that the only reason she had even thought about working with him was because she didn't want to endanger her job or herself. He was nothing more than a glorified hit man. He'd naturally assumed he would be searched and any weapons would be taken away from him. After all, while he could be trusted to behave nicely for the sake of 'the cause,' it was highly unlikely his guns would be given the same chance. He pressed Morticia down on his lap, silencing her. He had opened his mouth to list a litany of reasons why he needed to go and why she should come with him when she changed her mind and agreed. He raised an eyebrow but smiled like a fat cat with cream. "Naturally," he agreed.
He crossed his legs and reread the invitation. "It's at on Tuesday, the 25th. Gives you some time to get something nice," he teased. Knowing her, all she had was leather and jeans. Treat imagined if he wore spandex for a living, he'd not have anything else in his closet except cotton pajama sets to change into after all that chafing. He leaned back in his chair. "I'm so glad that's settled. Should I come pick you up at six-ish?" Treat didn't know where she lived...and he sure as hell didn't know she lived where she worked. After all, Treat was simply amused that his search for information had landed him a date. "Oh, and you should bring the cat," he added with a smirk. Even if she didn't, he hoped the thought would horrify her enough that he'd get some sort of upper hand in the situation. She'd won too many of their verbal sparring bouts for his manly pride.