Thread: Assassins (Findarato and Lemon)

Hurry up . Hmph. She was hurrying up! In fact, she had been packed and ready for quite a while. However, it was significantly difficult to be horribly paranoid in the aspects of forgetting something. Sasha had always been weary of traveling, due to the fact that more than not, when she was a good distance away from her home, she remembered something she had forgotten to pack. This time, she truly couldn't afford that little mix up. Thus, she was doing a thorough inspection of her bags, two in total. Over and over again, she checked, and finally satisfied with what she had gathered, she slipped her petite feet into the nearby ebony heels. Not the usual attire an assassin would don, yet, Sasha was far from the typical persona of a killer. From first glance, one would assume she was a model, even more specifically, a spokesperson for charities, given that her personality was near contagious. A smile was the least suspicious movement she could commit, and thus, she always wore one in moments of danger. A true talent, as her natural ability to weave herself around just about anyone often than not let her get away with foolishly obscene deeds, it was no question, that she would be paired up with one of the agency's deadliest catches. She had worked with Scott plenty of times, but certainly not this close. They would be spending a good chunk of time with each other for this mission, and while she was a bit weary of the overall experience, there was a handsome reward waiting for her. A gorgeous flow of cash would soon enough be in her care, and while the deed was going to be risky, she didn't doubt their ability in getting away with it. They were the best of the best, despite their endless differences. Red, plump lips curled down into a prominent frown the moment those narrowed hues of gray glanced across the environment outside of her apartment. It was rainy. Not a good sign. For her mood, or her hair. A little sigh and she trudged her way towards the parked car, every bit the image of a well-fit woman. From long, slender legs, to a trimmed waist and formidable assets that left many men and women gawking, Sasha strutted her athletic ass right to the trunk. A click, and it was opened, allowing for her to slip away her luggage. At least it wasn't too cold, she offered herself in condolence, whilst brushing off the smooth flesh of her thighs. She had figured the newest addition to her closet would be a perfect outfit for her first day of traveling. A short, adorable denim jumper, with a simple white t-shirt beneath. It was both comfortable, and fashionable, something that she doubted Scott cared about. His wardrobe was the same drab, yet honorably impressive suits. He looked good, she would admit it, but his constant stoic attitude and silent demeanor threw her for a loop. He was quiet, serious, and beyond chilling. Everything Sasha was not. Being warm, bubbly and outgoing, she was quick to fill up his car with a happy greeting, flashing those perfect pearly whites at him. Hey! How long did you have to wait? Ten minutes, tops, she inquired, wiggling into the cushioned front-seat, before the door closed behind her. Most wondered if she took her job seriously, and while the outcome of her missions more than often gave the answer, many doubted her. Perhaps that didn't thwart her attempts at continuing on with her career at all, and if it did, she certainly didn't show it. Even now, as she was still irked by his earlier comment, she was smiling and tucking back a strand of her long, stubborn auburn hair, the tresses falling well beyond the small of her back. I was doing some research on our boy, and I have to say, he certainly gets around. He's had about fifteen prestigious girlfriends in the last six months. Makes you wonder how he finds the time to take them all out, she muttered, already reaching out, to adjust the radio.