03-04-2014, 07:19 AM
A woman opened the door. She was about the size of a poodle, and just as fiesty. A waterfall of pitch black hair fell down her back. Dark lines rimmed tilted eyes, and everything about her sparkled with all the heat of an Indian summer. Mid-morning light streaming from the enormous windows inside the apartment caught the jewel dangling across her forehead.
She looked Tony up and down. "You wanted to see me?"
She asked with coy playfulness feathering her deep accent. Her lips parted a deep red. She'd carefully erased all evidence of a disheveled appearance from the night before.
She cast a brief glance at the woman in his company, "I imagine you wish to see him."
She waved them on into the interior of an extremely modern apartment that clashed horrendously with the seemingly traditional and rich woman exiting it. "I was just leaving. If you will pardon me."
She offered pleasantries but glided forward like she expected them to part from her path.
Jaxen was no where to be seen inside. The windows were untinted, so the Moscow skyline was a crisp decoration as backdrop to the clean lines and otherwise slick - and cold - style that he preferred. Coffee cups were abandoned, half drank, on a table. A gas-powered fire danced blue flames inside an onyx black firebox. A pair of leather shoes dyed plum purple were discarded. Clearly he was there. Somewhere.
She looked Tony up and down. "You wanted to see me?"
She asked with coy playfulness feathering her deep accent. Her lips parted a deep red. She'd carefully erased all evidence of a disheveled appearance from the night before.
She cast a brief glance at the woman in his company, "I imagine you wish to see him."
She waved them on into the interior of an extremely modern apartment that clashed horrendously with the seemingly traditional and rich woman exiting it. "I was just leaving. If you will pardon me."
She offered pleasantries but glided forward like she expected them to part from her path.
Jaxen was no where to be seen inside. The windows were untinted, so the Moscow skyline was a crisp decoration as backdrop to the clean lines and otherwise slick - and cold - style that he preferred. Coffee cups were abandoned, half drank, on a table. A gas-powered fire danced blue flames inside an onyx black firebox. A pair of leather shoes dyed plum purple were discarded. Clearly he was there. Somewhere.