Nikki sat at the breakfast table, the blue-eyed dalmatian, Keats, at her feet. The place setting across from her was empty; Cesare was in Philly for some reason.

"I mean, really. Who goes to Philly?" She asked the dog, who simply stared at her fork as she spoke. Smiling, Nikki cut off a slice of Canadian bacon from her eggs benedict and leaned over to share it with him when her sleeve caught on the steak knife. It plummeted to the floor and, miraculously, landed tip first, sticking firmly into the wooden floor. She and the dog stared at it for a moment before Nikki picked it up and used her linen napkin to clean the blade. It was from a new set, therefore particularly shiny and sharp, and as she polished it she could see her reflection as clearly as if she were looking in a mirror.

Her​​​​​​ thoughts turned to Vesper then, the young associate that her husband had taken into the crew. The two women had developed quite a repoire, and Nikki knew she had a fondness for knives in particular. 

Perhaps it was time to find her a special one. Nikki knew of a weapons collector in Chicago; she'd never met the man personally but the rumors abounded...guns, knives, explosives, incendiary devices...if even half those rumors were true, the fella could equipt a small army for war. 

Surely he had collectors' pieces. Perhaps in his home, displayed like a visual bragging right for family and friends? 

Maybe it was time to find out. Leaving the table, she stepped to the telephone and called Vesper.

Vesper was tempted to break into the Torretta's place, just to show she could. She had tried to make a good first impression on Cesare and Nikki Torretta, and it was amusing to think of one of them walking into a room and seeing Vesper with her hands behind her head, reclining on a couch, chair, or bed. They were, however, not on the ground floor. And they also had excellent security. And while Vesper was beginning to indulge in her capacity for amusement, it was worth a battle with gravity- or a bullet. So she knocked on the front door, winking at the bodyguard who stared at her. She'd been patted down when she arrived, but she didn't have a weapon. Not yet, at least.

By the time a knock sounded at the door, Nikki had called around and found the address of the collector, Michael Methuen. Keats beat her to the door, his entire backside swaying with the momentum of his tail as she opened it. Vesper immediately grinned and dropped down to meet the little guy while Nikki looked at Tommy, stationed in the hallway behind her. 

"Don't you have a singer you should be off flirting with?" She asked, watching a blush creep up from the collar of his shirt. She smiled and winked at him before ushering Vesper in, who was now holding up the puppy and making unintelligible cooing noises at him. 

"Vesper, meet Keats, our...fur kid," she said, waving an arm and indicating that she should take a seat. Depositing herself on the couch, she immediately stood again. "Coffee? Tea?" She asked, retrieving her own cup from the table where she'd left it and picking up the slip of paper with the address as she did so.

"Oh. My. GOD!"

What Vesper was going to say next was lost in a torrent of light barks as the dog charged her and she rolled back to sit on the floor. From amid the cacophony of puppy yelps, Vesper tried to respond.

"What? I didn't flirt with any- oh. Not me."

Sliding on her backside with the puppy still in her lap, Vesper schooched into the Torretta's place and closed the door behind her. 

"Um, I suppose coffee I had a-"

"BARK! BARK!"

"-late night last night trying to get lucky-"

The puppy made whimpering noises as Vesper stood up and placed him down, though he quickly stood against the leg of her jeans. Vesper, for once, wasn't wearing entirely black. Well, the shoes- her special soft ones for silent movement- were black. And her blouse was black. But the jeans were new- and so was the ruby necklace hanging below her throat. One red stone, set in white gold with a matching chain.

"-with a particularly tough safe to crack. So yes, coffee sounds great. How's the pup doing? He seems... excitable."

She grinned, reaching down and scratching him behind the ears.

"Heh. Yeah, he is that," she called from the kitchen, topping off her own coffee and pouring a cup for Vesper. She placed both cups on a tray along with cream and sugar, tucking the address under Vesper's cup and carrying it into the living room where she set it on the coffee table.

"Oh, my. That ruby...is that from where I think it's from?" She grinned, admiring the necklace that seemed to nearly glow like fire viewed through a dark red filter. "It suits you. But there may be something that suits you even more so," she said, plopping herself down on the couch. 

"Have you heard of Michael Methuen? Some people just call him "The Collector", she started, leaning over to retrieve her mug.

Vesper sipped her coffee, her striking eyes peering at Nikki from above the edge of the cup. Placing it on the table, carefully so as to avoid the puppy, she refastened a button on her blouse, leaving only the top one undone. 

"Had to leave that undone to make sure I showed you the goods."

She winked.

"It is indeed. Cesare- Mr. Torretta let me have one as a keepsake. And... Methuen? It sounds vaguely familiar. But if he's THE Collector instead of A collector, I suppose that makes him pretty important, yes? Why do you ask?"

"Well. He's into all weaponry, from A to Z. Acid to Zerstorers, if you will," she said with a smile. "But what might interest you is what's likely in his personal collection. He's a show-off and a braggard...so I imagine he's got quite a display of unusual guns at home. And knives," she added, watching Vesper's face as the implications sunk in. 

"That's his home address there, on the tray. I'm sure he's got surveillance out the wazoo, but I believe you and I could put our heads together and figure a way in," she said, a silent question floating across the space between them as Keats started gnawing on Nikki's shoe. 

Vesper didn't usually smile with her teeth. Normally the corners of her lips curled in wry amusement, but she looked downright predatory as she listened to Nikki.

"Okay. You have my attention. I've been in the market for a good knife, but I want something... special. You know? Of course you do, that's why you're bringing it up."

Vesper leaned back against the cushion, thinking out loud, entirely focused on the task ahead.

"I could try sneaking, of course. But if he's got great security that could be... problematic. I mean, I'd still bet on me succeeding. But I'm not perfect. Ideally, I'd want to get a look inside his place. See his setup. He doesn't know you, does he? Could you arrange a meeting with him? Maybe offer to buy something?"

Vesper started tapping her foot, thinking and speaking faster.

"We could set up a false identity for you. Us. European heiress and her personal assistant. If he's never seen us before, he might be suspicious when his stuff goes missing, but he won't have anything to go on when I swipe something out from under him."

She tilted her head.

"That's the fun way. Although it could be an issue if you- if we- ever run into him again. We could also... you know... pay him and just buy it. But what's the fun in that? You don't get rich spending money!"

Realizing how long she'd been talking, Vesper promptly shut up and called the puppy over. 

Nikki's eyes glazed over as she considered. 

"I like the false identity angle. Let's go that route, but with disguises. I'll rustle up some passable documentation to back us up, and schedule an appointment for 'procurement'. Maybe we go in looking like we want guns. Explosives. Anything but the knives, keep him off balance," she said, blinking a few times before focusing again on Vesper. 

"You know what would be impressive? If we didn't even have to go back. What if you saw what you wanted and I distracted him long enough for you to take what you wanted, right then and there, on that very day?" She asked, biting her lip in anticiption.

Vesper lit up as Nikki bit her lip.

"I love it. Riskier, of course. We could always keep it in mind as a potential move, if he gives us the opening. Hmm."

She picked up the puppy and placed it into her lap, holding him still and petting him as she planned.

"Well, the way I see it we have two options. Option 1 would be that you and he go elsewhere. To sign papers, maybe? Or get a tour of the house? Maybe have me catalog the stuff in there? If it was a different setting I might think about seducing him, but "Hello sir we'd like to buy guns and explosives and also please take me to your room have sex with you" can sometimes seem a little suspicious. And not worth it, in this case, I'd argue. Anyways, whatever you do he'd have to leave me alone in there for at least a minute or two, unless you have something that could knock out a guard.. And he'd probably notice it was gone if he came back in."

Vesper looks at the puppy as she continues to speak.

"But you could always "leave something behind" and send me to go pick it up once we leave the room, then cause a distraction? As long as there weren't any guards around me that could work. Could it work? Yes it could! Yes it coulllllllllld!"

She halted as she realized she'd been talking in the "puppy voice" and put him back down on the ground.

"Uh. Sorry. But yea, that sounds great if we can pull it off. If we don't get an opening, I can revisit the place later. And I like the disguises thing. I would rather not piss off the guy with lots of weapons and have him recognize me on some random day."

***

One day later, Nikki had managed to lay her hands on passable documents and weaseled herself an appointment. Two days later, they were being driven by limousine to the home of Michael Methuen. The Collector.

Both women wore non-prescription lenses, fitted pantsuits, and sensible shoes...all in dark, drab earth tones. The only nod to femininity was the wigs they'd chosen; Nikki's was short and blonde, Vesper's a dark red. Men always remembered hair, after all.

The two had their doors opened for them by the chauffeur, and, with Vesper carrying a briefcase full of paperwork, they were met at the door immediately by a mountain of a bodyguard, who smirked before stepping aside and allowing them to pass. Nikki shot Vesper a look as he led them to the office...he'd underestimated them, and hadn't bothered with a search.

Methuen was already inside, seated behind a large oak desk. He rose, his eyes skimming over the two while he rounded it, extending his hand.

"Miss Talbot, so nice to meet you. And who's this lovely young lady with you? Michael Methuen...but you can call me Mike," he said, his eyes never leaving Vesper as he shook Nikki's hand. Into redheads...well who wasn't? Alright...time to switch gears. She'd been prepared to have Methuen chase the blonde around the desk while Vesper excused herself and worked her magic, but it looked as if they'd have to improvise. Nikki smirked and cleared her throat.

"Mr. Methuen, this is my assistant Chloe. She's brought any and all documentation you may feel you need for any exchanges we might make," she said, watching the wolf study the sheep. 

The wolf, of course, being Vesper. 

Vesper had spent the entire ride over glancing at her hair reflected in the window. She liked the red. Maybe she'd ask Nikki if she could keep this after. Break it out for special occasions. 

When they arrived, Vesper did her best to inconspicuously check out the surroundings. Doors. Windows. Anywhere to climb. Treeline. Number of guards, positions, potential routes. In case they didn't have the chance to grab anything today, she wanted to do her homework for later. Or to be prepared if things went south.

The tools of her trade- glass cutter, gloves, rope, lockpicks, wirecutter, mirror, knife, and pliers- were hidden in a compartment of the briefcase. Not that there was much of a search by security. 

Methuen was seated when they entered. Nikki leaned forward and shook his hand as Vesper stood over her shoulder like a good assistant should, nodding politely. Methuen was tall and thin. He was greying, but old age had mostly only reached his hair; he looked like any one of a couple hundred businessmen downtown who looked like they worked out reagularly- when they weren't working on their third wives. His smile stretched his taut, tanned skin as he reached out and shook Vesper's hand as well. She blushed- and it was only mostly acting- as she looked into his eyes and spoke quietly. 

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Methuen- Mike. I've heard so much about the pieces in your collection. I was shocked to find one man could acquire so much. "

Methuen glanced at Vesper and Nikki for a moment before he grinned and spoke again.

"Well, why don't I show you what I have? Then you ladies can decide what you're interested in."

Methuen strolled with a practiced swagger as he led the women to his 'trophy' room. Inside, one wall was dedicated to firepower...pistols, revolvers, rifles with killing stories were mounted behind glass cases with small padlocks. Another wall sported explosives...hand grenades, sticks of dynamite...Nikki wondered briefly about a house fire and what it would do to the entire neighborhood under this man's careless stupidity.

The third wall was knives. There were other things...swords, bayonets, even the sharpened ends of poisonous bamboo spears were mounted for pure visual, and visceral, reaction. Vesper stopped at this case last as Nikki moved on, distracting Methuen with asinine questioning and false, fawning admiration.

"I must say, you have an amazing taste for weaponry," she tried, closing in on him in an attempt to block his view while knowing full well that  she was second place in his eyes, but trying anyway. "It must have taken a lifetime...and a lot of money...to accumulate such a collection. Mike," she said, mildly nauseous at having to push in this manner. He wasn't unattractive, per se...but Nikki knew there was a wife with children somewhere, and this shitbag cared not one bit about anything other than adding to his stable. Or...collection. She threw up a silent prayer that Vesper was either now actively slipping into the case or, at the very least, had memorized the mechanisms and could work her magic before Nikki was forced to work hers.

Vesper's eyes got wider and wider as they walked into the room. My God. If she had an hour alone in here... it'd be Christmas. The guns were... well, they were shiny, but they didn't really catch her eye. Vesper had no interest in guns. Not only did she have no intention of killing anyone, but if she had to have a weapon it wouldn't be one that advertised your presence.

But blades? Blades were silent. 

She skipped the spears, swords, bayonets. Far too large. Some things were purely decorative or ornamental. It's not like you're going to actually use a- oh, interesting, VERY interesting- golden blade with emeralds in the hilt. Even if it did have an accompanying golden scabbard with more sapphires showing than actual gold. Vesper continued to let her gaze wander as Methuen spoke about some of the pieces. 

Then she walked around a shield and felt liked she'd had the wind knocked out of her. 

It was beautiful. A dagger. Specifically, a seven inch Damascus leaf dagger whose steel was sharpened to perfection. The bronze-looking guard and pommel were gleaming, but Vesper felt her hand twitch as she looked at the wood. She moved toward the case without realizing she was moving, reading the description. Desert ironwood. Of course it's called desert ironwood. It's perfect. The handle seemed like it would be warm to the touch, and she felt a sudden, convulsive desire to hold it. She imagined gripping it, looking at the blade- the patterns on it flowing- stretching it out and watching the perfectly contoured steel- raising, falling, narrowing, widening to form the perfect shape. The blade... moving serenely through the air. It was only when she felt a hand behind her that she realized she was starting to fog up the glass with her open mouthed breathing. 

God, how long had she stood there? Oh shit. She probably could have just tried to swipe it then and there. Vesper tried to make eye contact with Nikki, but how do you subconsciously convey your apologies for a failed attempt at larceny due to getting turned on by a weapon? 

Nikki was certainly laying on the charm... Vesper piped up, having to clear her voice. God, she needed a cigarette.

"Miss...."

Shit. What was Nikki's name fake name? Stupid dagger. Just call her "Miss".

"Miss... I think this one is perfect. In fact..."

She turned toward Mike, but both women seemed slightly thrown off by the bodyguard who'd just walked in. Vesper smiled at Nikki, reassuring her.

"... I think I can handle this, if you'll just wait here patiently and not try to force anything. Mike, could we talk in your office? Privately? I handle all of the... specific arrangements. And I think we'll have things to talk about that you won't want to share. We'll bring in my employer to finalize things once we're... finished... talking."

Vesper did her best to pump her voice full of a low, humming electricity as she spoke, and her eyes drilled so far into Methuen that she was worried her contacts would fall out. 

Crap. She'd not anticipated anything like this, which angered her. She should have foreseen all possible outcomes. Blinking rapidly, she searched Vesper's two-toned eyes. What are you up to? 

Nothing to do for it now. She plastered on a fake smile and nodded.

"Yes, of course, Chloe. I trust you know your way through my business transactions by now," she purred, praying to God she wasn't tossing Vesper into a situation that Nikki would never, could never, forgive herself for. For what? A fucking knife? She balled her hands into fists as the two left, then turned to address the bodyguard. For the next several minutes, she commenced to asking aimless, pointless questions about the various items on display, not even hearing his answers as she discretely checked her watch. When ten minutes had passed, she couldn't take it anymore. 

"May I use your powder room?" she asked; surely he wouldn't follow her there. Thankfully, he didn't, simply mumbling the directions to her and holding the door open so that she could step through. 

Once in the hallway, Nikki nearly sprinted to Methuen's office door. Resting the side of her head against it, she listened carefully....and heard nothing. Her heart picked up speed as several scenarios passed...none of them good. Grabbing the door handle, she pushed her way inside as the other hand reached behind her for the pistol underneath her blazer.

Nikki burst into the office to see Michael Methuen on his knees in front of Vesper. Vesper had her legs up on the desk; they were crossed, resting peacefully on the corner, as she sat in Methuen's chair. The Collector, on his knees next to her, looked shell-shocked.

Nikki stared for a moment until Vesper noticed her, and the thief's voice cracked like a whip as she planted her feet on the ground and blasted to a standing position, leaning forward to rest her hands on the desk.

"You'd better think, Mikey boy. You know what they'd do to a guy like you in prison? You'd get treated like the sock of a teenage boy. They'd pass you around like a cigarette, except you'll be the one smoking. Smoking DICK, Mikey! Have you ever sucked a dick?! You think it's fun?! 

Realizing she was being dramatic and, perhaps, committing too intently to the role, Vesper sat back down.

"But that doesn't have to happen. My partner here... Sergeant... Breast- uh, Best. Sergeant Cynthia Best, and I- are part of a special unit. There aren't too many female cops these days, and they never see us coming. You sure as hell didn't. How else would we know about the stolen shit, Mikey? The Department has had eyes on your for months. We've got a case file on you a mile high! A mile wide! That's why our Captain sent us in here like this, to confirm... And hey, look...

Vesper dropped her voice to a soothing tone, even though her eyes were still hard.

"I know you said you didn't know you bought stolen goods. I believe you, actually. See, The Captain thinks you're useless. But I talked him into giving you one chance. One. Chance. To prove yourself. So you're going to give us back the stolen goods, and you're going to help us out every now and then, okay? We're not going to ask you to do anything crazy. Just information. Maybe helped us track down some weapons every now and then- low key. Hell, Michael, we might even give you the first crack to buy any rare pieces we confiscate."

Vesper crossed her arms and her voice was as icy as her blue right eye.

"So what's it going to be? Do you want to hand over the stolen goods, be our friend, and go on probation? Or do you want the team of cops down the street to be swarming through this place in half an hour?"

Methuen, barely recovering his train of thought after it had been derailed, made the smart choice and immediately caved.

A few minutes later, Vesper and Nikki were walking outside Methuen's house and into their waiting car. Vesper carried her treasured Damascus leaf dagger, as well as the dagger made of gold and emeralds with the sapphire scabbard. Nikki carried an old, gleaming revolver in one hand, and she had a longsword on a strap over her shoulder. They quickly entered the limousine and Vesper started chuckling immediately as the door closed. It built into rich peals of laughter as she tossed her head back so much that her wig dislodged slightly. 

When she'd calmed down a little, the limousine making the drive back towards The Lofts, Nikki asked a single question: "How did you know they were stolen?"

Vesper's eyes shined as she slid close to Nikki, staring at her friend and trying to fight interruptions of laughter.

"Because... I... stole them..."

She started chuckling again, but cut herself off.

"Sold this super fancy one- the gold and jeweled one- to a fence, had no idea who the buyer was. I didn't even know those two guns were stolen; he just gave them up. And well, I just told him my dagger was stolen and he gave me those two other things. Think Cesare wants a sword or the gun?"

Vesper closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and feeling the stress melt away like it always did after a job. Not like this was her normal type of job. Had she really use the phrase "lady cops"? Maybe she'd just caught Methuen at a vulnerable time. But either way, a win was a win.