Hunted

Frankie had made up her mind that she was going out, and had thus made a decision. She was clothed, so she left the bathroom for a moment to go to her closet. Out of her closet, she grabbed something black, that sparkled, and a pair of jeans.

Freddie, who was secretly glad for poor Armand that she'd come out after he'd finished that last sentence, bit back a whistle at the shirt that she'd grabbed. He was really starting to feel sorry for this fellow. "Yes, well, The way our dad works, this mission's probably going to be a while. But I'm glad that the military actually assigned somebody to keep her safe." he replied, successfully covering his immense amusement at the situation.

While the two were still talking, Frankie was changing in the bathroom. She put on the clothes that she'd picked out. The shirt was an off the shoulder, sparkly number, that while very pretty, left lots of room for her guns. She did her make up quickly, in a slightly different way, making her look a bit like an assassin herself.

When she entered the room again, she looked all ready to go. She walked past the bed and opened a drawer that held several different kinds of guns. Without even casting a glance at her brother she said in a matter of fact way, "Freddie, You're leaving now." Her voice was almost eerily calm as she checked the clips in both of the guns, depositing them in the holster around her hips. And then the holster went invisible. Hiding it, and the guns from view.

Freddie, being the smart sibling he was, stood, grabbed his jacket, and raised a hand as a parting greeting to Armand as he dashed out the door.

Satisfied that her weapons were up to par, she moved over to Armand. The strength she was exuding made her small height go almost unnoticed. "Armand. I have been trapped inside my own home, for at least three days. I have been trapped inside for over a week." she started, her good hand on her hip.

"Now, I do plan on going out with or without you." she continued, a bored, eerily calm manner floating around her. "But if you're going to come, you can't look like a military man like you are. That'd draw too much attention." she turned from him to walk over to her dresser again.

This time, she pulled out money, and then a wallet. She put the money in her wallet, and then stuck the wallet in the back pocket of her jeans. Then she turned to look at him again, crystal blue eyes clear and detached. "So are you coming, or not?" she asked, cocking her head to the side, lavender hair showering with the gravity over to one side.

She forced herself to continue looking exactly the same way as she observed his new outfit. Her heart did a strange flutter, but she chose to ignore it. When her eyes got to his face, she relaxed slightly. There was something that would get her mind off of just how well this guy cleaned up. She quirked an eyebrow. "Your hair does not sell that you wear clothes like this." she said, gesturing absently to his clothes.

She noted that he was holding the door for her, and took the opportunity to move forward. Once she was in front of him, she turned to face him, and stood on tiptoe, reaching up with her good hand, using her not so good one to balance by resting it slightly on his arm. She ran her hand through his hair and ruffed it a little bit, trying to ignore just how close of a proximity she'd created between them. She stepped back quickly, and admired her handy work. Then she grinned.

"Much better." she said, sounding very pleased with herself indeed. Then she walked out the door. "First place we have to find is a Hair salon. My lavender hair's kinda an eyesore, and a dead give away. We should get it dyed." she tossed over her shoulder at him, stopping in her walk so that he could catch up to her.

Frankie smiled at Armand for a split second, before going back to the face that didn't show what she was thinking. She produced a newsie hat from her back pocket and proceeded to pull her hair off of her neck and tuck it all under the hat, covering all lavender from view except for a few strands here and there. Those however, she just turned invisible.

"SO I was thinking that we should probably make a list of things that the assassins are going to be looking for. I mean, if I can avoid all the telltale signs of me being me, neither of our lives will be in as big a danger." she said, her gaze softening for a moment as she looked at him again.

She covered the soft look up though, by glancing back at her wings. Those she turned invisible too, after tucking them tightly against her back. She sighed lightly when they entered the lounge. It wasn't hard to lay low when you were mouthy and sarcastic and caused everyone you met to either hate you or fear you.

Frankie couldn't help but laugh. It was a pure, completely honest laugh that eve lit up her eyes. "Armand, Stalkers are frowned upon in out society. So much so that you'd probably get arrested, and that wouldn't do much good." she said mirthfully, smiling unabashedly at him.

And then he made the second suggestion. She looked away for a minute, a light rose coloring her dark cheeks. She wasn't sure whether to be made or not, but that feeling in her gut was not anger. She looked back at him, tilting her head up. "You seem a little, um. Well.." she searched for a word that wouldn't be mean, "Inexperianced in the social part of things." she looked away, still trying not to blush, though she knew she was, "That is... Do you know how to act like a couple?" She couldn't believe she'd just said that, but she knew he was right.

"We might need to," she paused, getting herself under control, "um, practice a little so that we're convincing." she finished quickly, forcing herself down to be objective.

"Also, I was thinking that maybe I shouldn't be called Frankie right now. It's kind of obvious, since I'm the only girl that goes by Frankie. My full name's Francesca Janelle, so if you can think of something better, feel free to call me it." she added, no longer blushing, keeping the emotional side of her down.