I miss you when you're gone

Come, Vhalla, give Spencer some credit. A man in his position needed to have some sort of backbone to handle the clientele he did and not get completely steamrolled. He listened as she spoke, their little verbal spar continuing until she relinquished to his terms. She didn't need to worry herself that this would last too long; his little "dinner and dance" they were doing was not because he was hungry and felt being cheap. He needed to know he could trust her, not just to have discretion but that she wasn't working to simply screw him over. One meal wouldn't completely convince him of that but it might be enough to get him to open shop for her. If not, well, she would be finding herself going home empty-handed.

"You can pick me up here." He added as she turned to leave. He collected the paper and folded it, glancing toward her as she added the last little bit. True, it wouldn't take her long to find out where he lived but, by her own admission, she didn't know yet. Just as it wouldn't be hard for her to find where he lived, it wouldn't be hard for him to simply not be there. He sighed heavily, shaking his head slightly before dropping the newspaper in the recycle bin. Time to wrap up his day and prep for his night. Including the possibility that he might wind up with a dagger in his gut.


Spencer stood in front of the bathroom mirror, making the last adjustment to his tie before flipping his shirt collar down. He hadn't known how "fancy" to dress but he did have the advantage in that he was a man (who spent too much money on suit pieces). While he cared and judged other men for wearing the inappropriate wear to outings, most others could not tell the difference. The most they might know is a tuxedo. Once he was as satisfied as he was going to be for the night, Spencer headed to get the most important piece of his attire â€" a leather roll bag designed to discretely hold up to five vials.

Fingertips danced over several slender vials organized in a drawer in his study, the liquids ranging from perfectly clear to a dark amber color. He mused over them, debating which ones would best suit a would-be assassin, before selecting five of them. The bottles varied in strength but they would all suit her needs, including simply paralyzing the target. A quick glance at his watch warned him if he was going to be on time, he needed to leave now. He rolled the leather bag up, slipping it into the inside coat pocket as he flipped the lights off in his study. It would be rude to keep a lady waiting.

Leaning against the shop's front windows, Spencer mulled over the fact he probably should have gotten some more information from her about their little outing. What was she driving? Where were they going? Was she going to pay him in cash upfront? He loathed the whole IOU/delayed payment system. Rarely did they actually pay him in the entirety if it was anything but a lump sum in cash. Not to mention, cash was easier to hide. Card and checks risked attracting attention. His eyes flicked up when he heard the roar of an engine approaching, eyebrow arching in â€" he would admit it â€" surprise. Well, this was not what he was expecting to approach him. When she climbed out of the car, there was also a small mental nod of approval. Maybe she was more than a cocksure braggart.

"And ruin the suspense of dinner? Never." He quipped lightly, pushing off the column he had been resting against to approach her to smooth his jacket. Spencer pushed her outstretched hand back toward her, though he was slightly amused how fair her skin was against his own. Here, he had felt pale compared to his Egyptian companion, but now he had Vhalla, little Miss Snow White. Seriously though, she wasn't going to let him drive. "Though I must say, you clean up beautifully, Miss Solarn." He added as he slid into the passenger seat of her vehicle.

single | warlock | notes: xxx