hire a hitman

QUOTES HERE

There was work to be done. He relied little on others to do it, unless it meant getting his own paws dirty which was out of the question. Being a man of wealthy, prosperity, and a dirty lifestyle was clockwork. He had done well for himself staying under the radar, as there were only few who knew him as the man he was. The broker by day, the boss by night. His name told tales around Rinnoch, though no one knew who puppeteering behind the scenes was. Many wanted him dead and didn't know where to begin.

That was the joy of it all really. Living life on the edge.

Money spoke wonders and made those who lacked it do things they never imagined. Blood was shed because of money, for money, by money. With plenty of it he was limitless.

Oh how proud his parents would be.

But being dead made it hard to be proud, and even when living they were hard to please. His childhood made him who he was, and he had no one to owe it to other than himself. So yes, he was proud of himself. With this victory he found himself traversing the streets until he found his familiar pub, one with a more upscale clientele. This was often where he made his business arrangements and collected his honest living accompanied with a glass of fine wine.

“i talk”

art & table by soar

Returning to the highlands was a mistake. Getting too comfortable in her home once again was a mistake. Her reunion with crixus was a mistake. While Crixus was so focused on keeping a better eye on Lorelei, he missed the signs. The scent, the trails, the whispers. Whispers of a man following them, following her. One that held the same earthen tones and emerald hues as the twins. The one that drove her from the highlands to begin with: their father. He came out of no where, easily hidden from the watchful eyes of Crixus. He caught her off guard, at first. In a small village she grew to like just outside of Aberdeen. She had managed to swindle then owner of the cottage she was staying in, a little bit of praising and a certain closeness persuraded the man to let her live in the cottage for just a short while. It was in that very cottage that she came home to find him already in her little home, hidden behind a door. She denied the facts that were right infront of her: his scent, the tracks leading to her house that certainly weren't hers. It was too late for her to scream, to run. He'd threatened to end her the second she spoke a word. And what else could she do other than remain frozen with fear of the one thing she ever truly feared.

She'd narrowly escaped, her upper paw was her swiftness. Where he was unwavering in his blows, she was quick and tedious in her steps. Adrenaline may have also helped her. She was too torn up in every way possible to find help in the village, he could track her too easily that way. All he'd have to do was ask which way the nearly dead looking woman went. So, she went south. And she kept going south, until she was as far away from the highlands as she could get. She found clinics, spread out here and there and lied her way through most of the patch jobs she needed to get herself back to somewhat normal. And by the time she'd healed what she could, she found herself deep in the mainlands. She was in Sussex. On her way here, there were whispers of a man with money and power, he was feared and recommended. And she just so happened to scope out one of the best spots to seek him.

She didn't have a plan for when, or if, she found him. She had only the collection of currency she gathered from the gullible men and women she happened across on her travels from the north. She could offer that, and herself, to him and his business in return for some form of a guarantee that shed no longer have to live in fear of her father. Slipping in through the dimly lit doorway, she slithered along the tables on her way in, slipping away with someone else's drink that they weren't paying attention to. Emerald hues scanned the tables around her for someone to match the vague description of the man that could solve her problems.

She watched, and waited. Everyone around her was too.. giddy. They were all too drunk to manage any type of business transactions or any important matters. Then, a towering man with a burning orange gaze strode in through the entrance with such confidence, such swagger. Other eyes fell on him as he made his way to a table that had been seemingly waiting for him to arrive. She continued to wait, noticing everyone else that walked in or out of this place wasn't getting the same glare from everyone else in the bar. She rose from the little corner she had been sitting in and began making her way over to the smoky man. There was a slightly drunken sway of her hips that flowed with her as she made her way closer to his table. Grabbing another unnoticed drink from another table, she would continue walking. She brushed up close behind where he was sitting, their earthen and smoky fibers just barely dancing as she made her way past him. Her tail would curve around his back lightly as she made her way to a seat closer to him. "Is this seat taken, Sir? " she purred, I'm her attempt to play one of the usual broads that visited this place. She wanted his attention, his interest in what she had to offer. This was her first step in achieving that.


"speech" "thoughts"

HIRE A HITMAN

The bristle of her fur against his own drew in his attention. Orange hues found her face, the mismatched colors melting around her eyes, drawing attention to the demanding emerald hues masked behind cookie and cream features. Never had he seen her here before which caused his brow to crease. There were many repetitive faces in the pub, often man he conducted business with on the regular. Why was she here? Perhaps she was a broad brought in by a man by means of being his trophy wife, per say. As he knew if that was the case, he would have seen her more than just once.

Is this seat taken, Sir?

He looked over her shoulder to see if there were any prying eyes, but when he found none, he returned her gaze. “It is not,” he responded dryly, "but I do not wish to be provoked by a man claiming I am trying to steal his wife." His tone was cold, but calculated and never once did his gaze linger from hers as he demanded security. A heavy sigh escaped his nostrils before lips parted to speak once more. “What can I do for you?” And then he would wait.


“i talk”

art & table by soar

even with the liquid courage she made herself soak up, she felt uneasy and on edge. Tensions were already so high amongst her kind and those that roamed here in the south. It could only be worse in such a secluded space should she make her true identity known to the wrong wolf at the right time. Would this man be that wolf? Would an all too curious or drunken patron pry into her and her conversation?

His orange, blazen gaze sunk into her as she approached. And all too quickly would it leave her emeralds as his attention fell behind her. Giving a glance over her shoulder, she would only turn back with a subtle smile across her lips at his first answer. The second part, however, warranted a quiet and drunken chuckle. "I am no man's wife, which means i am no worry to you. " atleast, not in this moment. If crixus were to ever hear of her in such a place, perhaps then this man would have something to be worried about. For now though, she was noone's problem. His gaze was once more upon her, but never once fell since returning.

"what can I do for you? he was upfront, straight to the point, a stark comparison to her far less straightforward approach. She didnt expect for it to reach this point just yet, she had hoped she would need to pry and prod at his capabilities that were masked so easily. The rumors she had heard of his abilities and reputation were thick in the towns of this southern territory. "Perhaps.. i can do something for you. " she was not hesitant, but she was also slow in her offer, said offer was something this man could laugh at and reject in just one moment.
she would offer herself as pawn in his dealings, his business. And in return she simply wanted a safe haven, no matter how difficult the ties would be.

QUOTES HERE

He could smell the liquor on her breath. Nothing unusual considering where they were, but an annoyance of the same. This was often where he did his dealings mostly because those who walked in and out were too drunk to remember he had been there. A regular protected by the owner of the establishment for protection in return. He was a king pin, though his name was one spoken often but was never matched by a face. His claims were that others did his dirty work, but his paws dipped in blood more often than not. He was the boss and the hitman all in the same.

She concluded he had no man to worry about which was surprising. She was easy on the eyes and the way her hips swayed would attract any to attention. Perhaps she was lying, or she was not such an easy woman.

Perhaps I can do something for you.

Or maybe he was wrong.

“Go on,” he would entertain her with half interest in what she was saying. Often these conversations went the same, either she was looking for protection or a good time. Amoux was a businessman who did not mix his business with pleasure. He would let her treat and hoped for her sake it was carefully.

“i talk”

art & table by soar