Who: Luca and Hayley What: A Business Meeting Where: Aubade 502 When: The day after this Warnings: A serious, boring meeting with potentially hilarious narration.
The fact that she was doing a job for Voldemort, any job, was a step in the right direction. It was an inch forward from where she had been, from the botched pickup - that really, wasn't her fault. But if Lil was to be believed, things were getting better again. Not only did she have Orin Monarch's ear for a day, but also she was being trusted with a great deal of hard cash to pay a Mr. Luca Darby for services rendered. Hayley had no illusions about what those services might be, but she chose not to think about them in great detail. After all, she wasn't the executioner. She was just a messenger.
Within an hour of receiving the e-mail, she met with Voldemort and the terms of the deal were set. Half before the job was done, half after its completion. If he was willing, of course. Though Voldemort was certain that he would be. And when Voldemort was certain of something, there wasn't much you could do but agree.
And so it came to be that Rogue, not Hayley, climbed the stairs of the Aubade. Oh, she was dressed in Hayley's clothes, and didn't wear a mask. But Hayley didn't walk the way Rogue did. Rogue's steps were smooth, self-assured, and strong. She always walked upright, crown of her head to the sky, with her arms comfortably at her sides. There was a slight swish of her hips as she rounded the corner after the staircase, facing the ninth floor of the Aubade. She passed door 501 without a second glance, forcing her gaze ahead. There was nothing in 501 for her, and everything in 502.
She paused at the door, reaching up with a gloved hand to knock. It was a rapt knock, the knock of someone that had a reason to visit. When the door opened, she looked up with sharp green eyes, expression neutral. "Mr. Darby," she said with a casual southern drawl. "Mind if I come in?" She cut a tall figure in her military-style boots, shoulders back and square. The hood of her green jacket was worn up, framing a cascade of brown and silver curls. Hayley wouldn't have been able to stand her own like this, but for Rogue, it was just business.