You'll never find it if you're looking for it

It was an empty summer night in Oceania Park. The giddy squeals of children on the playground had long been replaced by crickets and the low drone of cicadas, and there was not one soul visible from where Siri stood.

The girl huffed a breath laced with disappointment. A Tuesday after summer classes, and instead of drinking herself silly, here she was scouring this massive island for the opportunity to stalk a Russian dude. It had been a long shot, anyway - Siri was perhaps the furthest thing from a stealthy secret agent there was without the camouflaging ability of her powers. Illustrating this point, the blonde stumbled upon making the transition of park grass to playground woodchips in the dark, and cursed vividly under her breath.

"No use." She hissed, smoothing her skirt with a quick swipe of her hand before planting herself onto a swing. The chains groaned. "Can't find him on purpose." Pulling out her phone, she opened a PDF map of the island (can't google maps it since it doesn't god damn exist to the rest of the world) and began to idly swing back and forth by the tips of her boots. "Not the library." She murmured, the defeat wrought across her features illuminated by the cold light of her phone, "Not the bars. Not Underground. Not in the city. Not near the apartments..."

What was that? She’d taken her medication today, so there was no way this was another one of her voices. In which case…

At the sudden sound of a deep voice behind her, Siri jolted within the seat of the swing with a sudden, surprising cringe. “WHAT-“ She blurted almost involuntarily as she spun the swing about, coiling up its chains to put herself rather face-to-crotch with a certain elusive Russian. “Oh. Well, if it isn’t the human pokedex. Creepy as ever.” She snorted, attempting some defensive act to save face from her earlier flinching. She’d turned the face of her phone on him, glowing upon him like a spotlight in the dark woods. “Allow me to clarify – bars that I can actually get into.” She made a wide gesture to herself – poofy white curls, oversized band t-shirt, a black skirt, and cowboy boots, “Apparently I’m not snazzy enough to hang with your crowd."

Siri picked herself from the tangled swing and climbed aboard it, standing up on the seat of it to be at eye level (finally) with Sasha. “What makes you think I was looking for you, anyways?” She wobbled, snagging the chains with both hands as she regarded him, one brow arched.

Siri huffed a dignified breath, turning up her nose with a dramatic flair. "Me? Startled? Never." She grinned wryly as she leaned forth and back on the swing, chains squealing, "I dunno. You carry around wads of cash on you. What sort of company do you keep Sasha?" And now that he'd given her room, twenty-something Siri was stand-swinging harder with an extreme awkwardness characteristic of the girl - all the while, pinning him with scrutinizing narrowed eyes.

"Hey!" She gasped, coming to a sudden halt at the mention of his treasure. "I never said I wasn't looking for you. Maybe I just wanted to know where the money you gave me came from. And, by the way..." Open palm unfurled towards him, the girl lolling her body halfway out of the seat towards him, "I can dispose of those drugs for you." Assuring wink, "Don't even worry about it."

Siri isn't the sensitive type. She wouldn't flinch to being called any manner of name, nor would she be particularly perturbed (or surprised) if bad things were being said about her. Most of the things, after all, were entirely true.

And though calling Siri poor was also true, it caused her to physically recoil. Her fingers curled back into her hand, and drew back to tuck against her chest for a moment... before she idly ran her fingers through her hair with self-conscious fervor.

"Yep, sure am." She remarked with a stiffness that betrayed her impassive expression, "A lawyer, huh? You in some sorta trouble?"

Shrugging, however, she carried on, "What do you want me to do for your bag of tricks, then?"

"Art?" The blonde bubbled up, intrigue and excitement (or, perhaps, dollar signs) in her eyes before they'd quickly fizzled. If there was one thing Siri was actually good at, aside from hustling and miraculously not killing herself on obscene amounts of prescription drugs, it was painting. However, she drew back once more, and dropped her eyes. "Well, good thing you aren't in any shit. I can't be seen with dudes on the wrong side of the fence."

At his next words, Siri's brows hiked so high, they practically flew off of her head.

"You want me to prove I'm trustworthy by not struggling? That sounds fucked up." She grumbled, stepping down from the swing in order to knit her arms across her chest to further convey her distrust. "I can do that. But, first, you're gonna have to show me these drugs. How do I know they're something I want to... dispose of for you?" Siri wrinkled her nose. "I may be trustworthy, but I ain't stupid, Sasha."