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[attr="class","ctopline"]fake it if you're out of direction

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[attr="class","clyrics"]Fake it if you feel like a infection[break]
Woah you're such a fuckin' hypocrite

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[attr="class","cbody"]This was an unusual situation for him—definitely a first since he had been back to London. When he had been living in Moscow, it had not been unusual for him to work whatever kind of job that needed done. It had put him in situations where he was in the worst areas of the city, having to look over his shoulder at every time, and had put him in the nicest casinos where people threw away more money in a night than he’d seen in his entire life. But usually in those situations, he was the one doing the work. He was the one doing the heavy lifting. If something needed done, he got it done. Even if it was difficult. Even if it was a job that they considered to be near impossible—as many of his first jobs had been, just to see what he was capable of, he got it done.
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Had there been close calls? Of course. He wasn’t infallible. He wasn’t some trained assassin. Was he a capable killer when he needed to be? Yes. More than capable. But he was not an expert, he was not trained, and there had certainly been close calls or situations where he probably could have done the job with a bit more finesse. But the job got done—and couldn’t be traced back to him or the people that he worked for. In his opinion, at the end of the day, that was what it came down to. That was what really mattered. Everything else was just extra.
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But it had been different since he had moved to London. Obviously, that kind of work was not why he had been sent here. He had been looking for a reason to come home, if he was being perfectly honest with himself. They had found out about that, and then this job had been offered. Finn knew that there were strings attached to it—there always were, but the strings had not been all that bad. Nothing more than a cut of the profits. He had no doubt that he would return to Moscow in the future, but for now, he was fine here. They did not need him in Moscow that badly. While the right person had taken a liking to him, that did not mean that he was so important that he couldn’t be away from the city for too long. Not by a bloody longshot.
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Being here worked out fine for him. He got to do what he wanted for the most part. Managing the club at night was easy, and he got a free place to live out of the deal. There was not much more than he could actually ask for. The summer fights were in full swing, and they were at maximum capacity most weekends. There was something about the warm weather that brought out the ferocity in people. There had only been a fair few fights in the past month that hadn’t been able to hold his interest—and even less that couldn’t hold the crowd’s interest, though they were decidedly easy to please.
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Those nights were easy, and most of the time they were even fun. It was drinking, fighting, and making money. What was there to dislike? Yes, he had to make sure the place didn’t catch on fire or that people didn’t kill each other, but he could still drink, flirt, and mostly have a good time the rest of the night—all while making thousands of galleons. It was a good gig.
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But it was not what was on the docket tonight. Tonight was something entirely different. What he had done in Moscow was not necessary here, because they didn’t have all that many enemies to kill from countries away. If he had a problem that needed dealt with that way, then he would deal with it. It would not be anyone else’s responsibility to give him the order or set it up for him. That would just be a situation that he could handle on his own. Obviously, in London, that wasn’t a situation that came up all that often. He didn’t have much of a reason to make enemies, though that had absolutely not been the case in Moscow. There, enemies had been everywhere. Here, that wasn’t a problem.
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Apparently, there was an exception to that today. There was someone that they’d wanted taken care of. While he had made it clear that he could do it himself, they hadn’t wanted him to get his hands dirty, and there had been no reason to argue all that much about it. He wasn’t going to convince them. If they wanted to ask someone else to do it, that was their choice.
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Obviously, he had to be their contact in London, though, since he was the only one that could be. It meant heading out to a hole-in-the-wall pub in Camden and drinking an iced tea until they showed up. Whoever the hell they might be. He was at the table that he had been told to sit at, but apart from that he did not know who was expected to show up tonight—or if they would. Assassins could be a paranoid bunch. There was a chance they’d use this opportunity to stake him out, get a look at him and assess before deciding on another meeting. Inconvenient as hell, but nevertheless a possibility. He still had to sit here for a while and give it a shot. Iced tea looked like whiskey, which worked in his advance, and if they did show up, would lessen their guard if they thought he was drinking. In theory, anyway. That would all depend on whether or not someone actually showed up.
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[attr="class","cnotes"]962 ● Kallisto Ophelia Parkinson ● outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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I can fake it all

Who's to know if your soul will fade at all

The one you sold to fool the world

She had a job tonight. Her father had been eager to pull her into his less than legal enterprises. Donna had laid the ground work for that, informing the man that Kallisto had been the one to discreetly bring about the passing of her late husband. Killing was as much a pleasure as a vocation... a fact that made the witch sound quite like a psychopath. She did not believe she was. Though she did match a staggering number of the traits associated with such persons, Kallisto believed herself to be too logical for such classification. Besides,she was above such mundane labels. 

It was not actually true to say that she had a job tonight. She had a meeting to gather the details necessary for a job. It was an annoying and unnecessary middle step that her father should have handled. But the customer wanted the one who would be handling the permanent resolution to their little problem to gather the specifics from their local representative. In Kallisto's opinion, it was unnecessary and a waste of her time. If the customer had a local representative already, then why wasn't said representative handling this bit of business? She wagered he was probably some imbecile who had lost their magic and was completely incapable without it. 

Whatever. This was fine. She would go. She would meet them. She would get the information and be om her way. They just better not try to micromanage her. That was not the way this worked. Murder was a stress reliever. Kallisto planned out her jobs herself. She used the spells she created or the potions she brewed. The witch had given consideration to taking a more intimate, hands-on approach sometime. Perhaps test out the experience of blood and blade, but that was so personal. She'd save that for someone she truly wanted dead. Whatever target she would learn about this evening would not be likely to meet that criteria. No one really was drawing that sort of fury from her... except for Van. Him she still hated with a burning and furious passion. His slag wife was trash, not worthy of breathing Kallisto's air. But she was not important enough to hate. Van, though. He had caused too much pain and loss to be forgiven. Him she would be happy to filet open with a really sharp blade... but the wrockstar would probably not be worth the sort of bounty that this contract was offering. Oh, well... A girl could dream.   

The possibility of the meeting being some sort of set up seemed unlikely. Still, Greg insisted on sending a couple of lugs with her. They weren't necessary and drew unwanted attention. She left them at the far corner. When they tried to follow her further, she put both under the Imperius. She had no time or patience to babysit. Plus, the baffoons were incapable of being discreet. They looked like criminals. She most certainly did not. 

It would be interesting to see the contact's reaction to the pretty face and lithe figure. Certain types tended to underestimate what a young woman was capable of. They were fools. It was why there were more assassins like her rising up. Big innocent eyes and a dress that showed just a little too much could get a girl into just about anywhere. 

Kali wasn't just flaunting her assets this evening; she had dressed to fit the destination. Camden drew a lot of artsy types--and tourists. She had been to Camden Market a few times over the years. Witch Weekly had done some grunge aesthetics shots in one of the pubs near where she was supposed to meet whoever her client had sent to meet her. She'd been directed to a particular table. It was all very clandestine. There was even a greeting she was to give the person waiting for her. 

When she showed up in the pub, she moved fluidly back through the tables. Ultramarine eyes widened ever so slightly when she saw who was sitting alone at her little meeting spot. Kallisto had not been expecting Finn Harlow, but she was never disappointed to see the wizard. "You're at my table," she challenged, a brow arching up at the wizard. It wasn't the exact greeting she had been instructed to offer, but she was not going to say what she had been told to say to the Harlow. It would have been easy to say those words to a stranger. A lie could easily spoken, but when it got too close to the truth, that became much more difficult. 

@ what are you doing here? • 765 • outfit, no jacket

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

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[attr="class","ctopline"]FAKE IT IF YOU'RE OUT OF DIRECTION

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[attr="class","clyrics"]FAKE IT IF YOU FEEL LIKE A INFECTION[break]
WOAH YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKIN' HYPOCRITE

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[attr="class","cbody"]It wasn’t that he was mad that Aleksei had wanted to outsource the job. He wasn’t. Finn understood him wanting to keep his hands clean of all that. If the wrong people caught wind of the murder, if they had their idea of who was behind it, it was not as if his ties to the Russian mob was a secret. He had been around them for several years. He had been fully immersed in that world, and he was certainly the only person in London with these kinds of ties to Moscow. If he got too close to this, they would look in his direction. It was only a matter of time. If the assassin they’d hired couldn’t get the job done well enough, he expected that he would still be hearing from some suspicious individuals. That meant making sure that he was as far away from this as possible, with as solid of an alibi as possible.
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He was just annoyed that he had to meet with this person, when he knew that he was perfectly capable of doing the job himself. Yes, he understood the reasons why Aleksei didn’t want him to do it, but it was still frustrating to know that they were going to trust a complete stranger for a job like this. Finn didn’t like or trust someone that killed for money. Their loyalties went only so far. If someone offered a higher price tag, they could flip just like that and they would not feel a second’s remorse. He thought he’d rather risk the suspicion for murder on him than dealing with someone like that.
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But it was not his decision to make. He had to just respect the fact that it had been decided. He was not the one that made decisions here. As much as he knew that Aleksei liked him, had taken him under his wing and all that shit, he knew that there was still a chance of overstepping and he was not going to tell him that he thought this was a bad move. Assassins got the job done all of the time. There was no reason to think that this one was going to flip on them and betray them. The only problem was, if they did, he was going to be the one impacted by it. They weren’t going to be, all of the way in Moscow. It would be his ass on the line if this stranger thought he could make more money from their competition.
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Finn did know that Aleksei at least valued his opinion, though, which was why this meeting was important. If they showed up and he didn’t trust them, if he got a bad vibe, if he thought they were questionable in any way, he had no problem telling him that. Telling him that they needed to find someone else, because this person had left a bad taste in his mouth. He did think that his opinion mattered enough, if something like that were to happen. But only time would tell. Finn still thought there was a good chance that they wouldn’t even show. He’d met enough professional killers in Moscow to know how they were. He thought it tended to depend on their preferred method of killing. There was no one more paranoid than bombers. People that used explosives were always wary of arranged meetings, particularly. But he did not know enough about the person that was meant to meet him here today to even get a read on what kind of killer they were. It was something that he’d have to figure out, if they did show up.
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He took a swig of his iced tea, wishing that it really was whiskey, and looked up in time to see a surprising face. Raising his eyebrows, his focus was momentarily taken off of the job at hand as his gaze lazily moved up Kali’s body. As always, the view never disappointed, and a smirk formed on his lips—but just as promptly, he remembered what he was doing here. “Afraid not. This is my table tonight.” And he really needed her to leave, because she was exactly the kind of distraction that he did not need tonight. It was definitely a good idea for her to be far from him when work was on his mind, and when a hired assassin for the Russian mob were potentially already watching. The last thing that he needed was a weakness, and Kallisto Parkinson was certainly already that—he just didn’t need anyone else to know that..
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[attr="class","cnotes"]764 ● @ shouldn't be here ● outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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