[Club Gambit] Observation.

It had only been a few days since she arrived. The flight was ridiculously long and she thought it would never end. Still, there wasn’t a single complaint from her as she patiently waited it out. As long as she had her cloves and alcohol, she was content despite the pilot grumbling about the sweet smell throughout the entire flight. It was a private plane so who cared? Not like there was enough space to fit another person thanks to her equipment and personal belongings. After all, she was basically uprooting from the states and going off to some unknown island that even she was unaware of. Apparently, this place was where the really ‘special’ people of society lived, people that didn’t belong. She was technically in that ‘special’ bracket, but no one knew about it. Nobody should know about it so it was a wonder as to how Specter got a hold of her information. It was supposed to be classified and she was certain she destroyed as much data as possible. Ah well…There wasn't much she could do about it now and she didn't plan to as long as they didn't violate their end of the deal.

She had explored the island, taking in as much as she could when it came to surroundings. While people thought of this activity as ‘touring’, she was merely observing, taking note of vantage points where she could get the best shot, good hiding spots, or methods of escape should she need to. It was her ritual; new places require observation. Next came the people…which were perhaps the most interesting part. She had to assume that everyone had something ‘unique’ about them which probably required more observation before she took anyone down. It was odd though. She didn’t know what to expect when she entered Club Gambit. Everything looked so…well, like a normal club. Anyway, she didn’t let that show and decided to seat herself. Most of the girls were wearing their cute dresses and tops, but her? She wore a slick black suit, slacks included. Yeah, she sure fit in well. Whatever. She lit up a clove and inhaled, feeling a little better already. This Specter group better be worth her time.

The suit was…uncomfortable in a way that she was limited with her movement. Then again, she wasn’t here to initiate combat; she was here to merely observe and hope that she’d run into a Specter member and talk about business. That’s what the suit was for. The Clove twitched between her lips as she looked up to the stranger and took note of his appearance. Judging from the drink, it didn’t look like he came to talk about business. Hmph. While he offered her such a friendly vibe, Lenn wore the expression she normally did while lining up a headshot through her scope. Couldn’t be helped, but that was probably the nicest gesture she ever offered. Normally it was a ‘piss off’ or actual bodily harm. Well the violence was only reserved for the lewd that thought they could get lucky with her.

Well, the least she could do was allow him to sit. He was polite; he had manners. That was already a brownie point for him.

Besides, she was growing bored of observing. So far, this was a club that rounded up the unintelligent and far inferior people that honestly didn’t deserve a bullet through the skull. They all wanted was a good time and pulling a Scarface moment was only going to earn her a spotlight on T.V for Manta Carlos’ Most Wanted. She liked going by unnoticed, thank you very much.

Well, she hoped he didn’t mind the cloves. If so, too bad. “Go ahead,” she nodded and waited for him to take a seat. Now she was fully committed to having a …normal conversation…So what was considered normal besides contracts and intel? “Oy’ don’ dance eitha’. Only hea’ for th’ drinks, mate.” There we go! That was a good start. He probably didn’t see the accent coming. No one ever did because of her limited choice of words which consisted of ‘mmhm’, ‘yes/no’, or ‘piss off’.

About the dance floor… The idea of her dancing around like a bloody idiot was something that made her want to cringe. Hell would freeze over the day she got drunk enough to do it. Thank god she was able to break down alcohol faster than the average human. Sigh, she stowed away that thought and focused her attention upon her new company. For starters, she outstretched her hand. “Th’ name’s Lenn. You?”

She inhaled a generous amount of smoke in which she held for a moment before expelling it politely away from him. If he was surprised by her speech, then he hid it better than a lot of clients she had to meet. Good, because that would have taken away that point. Her patience was a short fuse; like a firecracker fuse cut too short. Anyone that dared to light that fuse was most likely going to get hurt. Honestly, Jacob had caught her in a sour moment. No one had contacted her from Specter from either phone or in person. She assumed that maybe if she went to the crappiest of crappy places, that someone might show their ugly face to her. Sadly, no one did. That was okay though. At least she wasn’t spending tonight alone with brewing rage that there weren’t any contracts to be signed.

Windin’ down afta’ a business meeting? Feh, you could say tha’. If only there was an actual meeting anyway. Clubs were the best place to set up a meeting that you didn’t want anyone to know about. There were too many people and too many drinks for anyone to zero in on something they shouldn’t; suit or not. At least that’s what she thought anyway until Jacob sauntered his way over. How he picked her out of all the girls to talk to. Maybe it was the suit after all. If it was, she was going to have to eat her tie for this. “Mor’ loike there was no meetin’ an’ oy’ was there for nothin’,” she said with a salty tone and stopped a waitress to order a scotch on the rocks. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. He didn’t need to know that she was mostly hired for icing people. “Wot about you? You don’t strike me as some bloke milling about in a place loike this.” He looked like he belonged in some Gentleman’s Club or something. You look loike a teacha’ to me.”

Heh, they both probably looked like they were in the wrong place. Just for that? She loosened her tie and undid a button or two. I can breathe, thank gawd. Finally, the waitress dropped off her scotch and she tipped a five simply because it took too long. Would have been a ten. Anyway, she took her first sip, savoring the flavor and held the glass as she leaned back and relaxed in her chair.

The last time she knew, she was supposed to be around twenty-two. Age really didn’t matter when you were pretty much compiled with every monster known to man. Who knows? Maybe her body was going to remain ‘twenty-two’ until someone came along and sawed her head off. She had no idea when her birthday was anymore either. Was it when she was born that pitiful brittle creature, or was it when she was reborn with this new body? It was hard to tell, but it didn’t even matter anyway. She never celebrated nonsense. Why waste the day doing nothing when you could get paid?

Her eye followed his hand toward the crowd and watched them grind, grate, and gyrate upon each other which made her visibly wrinkle her nose in disgust. Why even bother? Was that dancing? She wouldn’t be caught dead doing that. She’d rather eat a bullet than look like some slutty monkey in a dress. Her visible eye narrowed and she scoffed at the crowd, knowing she was better than that. On the subject of ‘age’, she could tell he didn’t belong in this bunch. He looked pretty good for..Hm. Mid…Late thirties? With his looks, it was hard to tell but somehow she got the hint that his appearance was very important to him. Can’t blame him; she was in a suit for god’s sake. “You an’ me both, mate. Oy’m new hea’. Figgered this place wasn’ fer kids, but looks loike oy’m sorely mistaken,” She grumbled into the glass, something unpleasant about the parenting of these kids, before finishing off the drink.

Jacob however was slowly beginning to be a person of interest. “So what do ya teach?” She set her empty glass down and lit up another clove, taking an initial puff before she leaned in close. Pretty darn close for still being a complete stranger. “No wait…Oy’m going ta’ guess…” There was a long, probably uncomfortable silence while she studied him. She had been told she had an unnerving stare, but she summed that up to being extremely patient behind a rifle. “…Science.” The clove twitched in anticipation of his answer.

By all means, the Scotch still burned like it always did going down. She was just good at not showing it. In a way, she drank because she needed that dose of reality; the bitterness that came with every sip. She needed a reminder as to why she did the things she did and the cigarette was always there to calm her nerves. It had been a few years since she started her own shady little business, but she thought she was doing well in holding all of that nonsense in. Emotions were as stupid as the laws that established that killing was wrong.

Once the waitress dropped off the beer, she ordered a second scotch and requested the beer be added to her tab before she left. In the meantime, she leaned back, smirking at the answer of him teaching math. He got that right, she didn’t want to bother hearing it. Then he mentioned it; hitwoman. There was no way he could have known. It was a shot in the dark and she did well to hide the fact that she was shocked with such a guess. He was probably joking around. In a way, she didn’t blame him for assuming as such. She probably looked like she came from the mafia though honestly she didn’t dress like this on a daily basis. All she did though was smile at the man as her scotch arrived. He had no idea how spot on he was, but she wasn’t about to give him the pleasure (or horror) of knowing that. Goodness she’d get bombarded with questions or worse; attempt to get in her way. That would be bad considering he was her first and perhaps only person of interest.

“Vereh’ cute,” she commented with a chuckle, playing the whole guessing game off with the wave of a hand. Honestly, he had caught her off guard so suddenly that she hadn’t had the time to think up of a lie. “’None of tha’ business, mate. Oy’m freelance…Wos waitin’ for my client to arrive but ‘e neva’ did,” she sipped the scotch, hoping he wouldn’t uh…ask her just what kind of ‘freelance’ work she did. No, she should control that variable before he could think up of his own ideas. “Art.”