Kathryn and Merci had learned to live with their strange arrangement. Kathryn, technically, had hired Merci with a sizable check to keep her on retainer; at the same time, Merci had essentially agreed to take Kathryn on as an apprentice. Fortunately, there were no power struggles: the two women, although separated by nearly a decade and many personal differences, had quickly adapted to each other.

A couple months ago, Kathryn had started training at the shooting range for hours, as many days a week as she could. A few weeks ago, she'd made her first kill, under Merci's supervision. The jobs since then had been scarce, and the ones that they did get were boring. Merci tried to explain that there were normal stretches like this, but she could see Kathryn wanted more. It had been a rush for the young woman, and she was ready to feel it again. 

So after a couple weeks of waffling, making some phone calls, and waiting, Merci was relieved for both her and Kathryn when a job came in. She looked down at the notes she'd jotted down- both from the client and her own thoughts.

Paul Whitman
Lawyer, Partner/Founder
48 y/o, wife (42), 1 son (21)
Jan 28, Franklin Institute Elite Supporters Dinner/Reception 7:30-10:30
Heavy security, no guns
Use poison?
Bonus on job if Whitman dies at the party in front of the guests
Per client, no own else should be harmed, especially not target's family.

SERIAL WOMANIZER, little discretion: Lure him away with sex, then get him to drink poison?

Merci leaned back in her chair, staring down at the paper for several moments and committing the information to memory before grabbing a match and burning it in the sink. She watched it burn for moment, then smiled as she picked up the phone to dial Kate.

Additional Note: no private bodyguards, but extensive police presence on site

Merci appeared in Kathryn's makeshift office, which, for the time being, was a rented bungalow at The Fountains.

"Feel this," she said as she placed her own rewritten version of the paperwork on Kathryn's desk. They had a flow between them, and a sort of makeshift shorthand. Merci knew without a doubt that she'd be working for the younger woman one day; in fact took no issue in it and probably pushed towards it unconciously.

"I think this is your next big thing, Kat," she said, digging into a jar of green olives as she looked at Kathryn with a gleam in her eye.

"I've only done the poison gig twice. It's personal, visceral, and sometimes it takes a while. 

"Are you ready for a challenge?"

Kathryn capped and dropped the pen onto her desk with a gleam in her eyes.

"Finally! And poison- does that mean we..."

Kathryn's voice trailed away as her eyes devoured the page. Merci was used to that, as well. She waited through a minute of thoughtful reading and re-reading.

"... need to get it on our own? Do you have some already?"

Kathryn slid the paper back across the dress to Merci.

"And a formal occasion, no less. We're both going in, right? I mean, I'll take the lead if you want, but it seems like something like this, it might be better for you to be in there with me. Hard to keep me in scope when I'm inside a museum, eh?"

Her eyes gleamed as a new idea occurred to her.

"Wait- do you need to go dress shopping? Or would you be going as one of the servers?"

Merci smiles. 

"I don't shop, Kat, you know that," she says with a smirk. "But I found something in the closet that belonged to Michael's sister--in-law. A form fitting number in cream. It's pretty," she says, thinking about the residual personas that existed in her new home. She felt them every day.

"I've got the chemicals we'll need. You'll be shocked at how little it takes, slipped into food or, preferably, liquid. Less digestive time," she says, looking in the mini-fridge for olives.

"Cream, huh? Can't wait to see it. I've got a few possibilities. Including cream, actually, but I'll hold off on that one."

She winks as she ticks through the dresses she was considering.

I've got a beige silk one I really like that I wore to my recent dinner with Augustus... how're things going living there, by the way? Still a little strange to get used to?

I've got another that's classy, beautiful, two shades of blue and bow.

Then I have a barely-there red number that not so subtly says take-me-in-the-back-and-fuck-my-brains-out. Not the sort thing I've worn too often. Ever, if we're being honest. 

Or I could just go out and find something else. 

Am I picking something that's just most likely to catch his eye and get him in private? Because that red one could definitely lure him in... but it's going to make sure lots of other people notice me as well. These chemicals... are they going to make it obvious that it's been a murder? Do you have anything that could make it look like a heart attack or a stroke? 

"Go with something suggestive, but not over the top. Do you have anything floor length that splits all the way up the leg? I wish I had a dress like that," she says absently as she pops the top on a fresh jar and plops down in the seat opposite Kathryn. "And the stuff I've got paralyzes the lungs; he'll basically choke to death, by all appearances. Unless there's an autopsy, they won't find anything...it's an obscure drug that they'd have to look for specifically. To avoid all that, though, we just need to make sure he's got something in his mouth when he kicks. Like one of these," she says, holding up the cocktail olives and winking.

Kathryn sighs dramatically before ending in an airy laugh.

"Yea, that makes sense. Someday I'll find an occassion for that red dress, like someone requesting an assassination using only tits. Or something. And when we get back, we're going to have a talk about this olive thing. You like olives more than I like anything. We'll have to play a game of poker or something: and if I win, you can't talk- or even think- about olives for a whole day. I'll find something else for you to snack on- and if it's more about the action then the food, then I'll find you something else to do with your mouth."

She smirked. 

Merci stops chewing and stares at Kathryn. Take her olives away? What cruel joke is this?? Then the rest of what Kathryn has said sinks in and she proceeds to choke herself, coughing violently to dislodge the damn thing from her throat. Once she's recovered, she wipes a tear away and stares at Kathryn a moment before speaking. "Tit assassination would surely do it," she says, glancing quickly at Kathryn's breasts before looking away. 

"When do we leave for this shindig?"

"Looks like the event is tomorrow. Want to head out today and get our bearings?"

Nodding an affirmative, Merci walks down to her bungalow to pack a bag and make sure the cat is tended to. She was going to have to do something with Hammer; he needed better supervision than he'd been getting lately and had taken out his frustrations over her absences by shredding everything he could get his claws in...curtains, furniture, a pair of her boots. Maybe Augustus would let him move in.

Kathryn had arrived with a bag, so they were soon in a taxi headed for the airport. The highly organizational sort that she was, she'd prepaid for the tickets and they were seated in first class immediately.

"Swanky," Merci smiled as the stewardess handed her a martini.

"Oh, wait, can I please get extra oli-"

Shit.

Kathryn glared at Merci playfully.

"It's just because I'm your friend, Merci."

Kathryn handed Merci a slim folder with a photograph of a large, stone building whose four columns in the front gave it a Roman air.

"Franklin Institute: been around for a while, but moved a few years ago in this new building... basically think of it as a science based museum, named after Philadelphia's most famous son- well, adopted son. Like most museums, it cultivates wealthy donors. This event is for their elite supporters: people who've contributed over fifty thousand. We'll have two tickets waiting for us in Philly. Congratulations Merci, you're not a distinguished supporter of the sciences."

Kathryn pointed at herself with a chuckle.

"Jacqueline Crawford. Jack was confused; I think it took him a few minutes to realize that I meant it as a compliment and that I wasn't teasing him. Your donation was made under the name... Olive Renard."

Merci grins widely. "Catchy! I won't be forgetting it, anyway," she says, resting her head against the seat. She didn't mean to, but she apparently fell asleep with the folder in her lap, because the next thing she knew, the plane was landing.

"Jesus, how long was I out? You should have kicked me or something," she says as she rubs the sleep from her eyes and finger-combs her hair. Tucking it behind her ears, she looks at Kathryn. "Sorry," she says sheepishly.

Kathryn had spent most of the last few hours sleeping herself. Recently, she'd been watching Merci. Being friends with Merci was like being friends with a work of art: the woman was beautiful, and Kathryn had never seen anyone quite like her. Her eyes, her lips, her hair... she was unique.

Kathryn had always found women beautiful. It was never something she had mentioned or thought to act on; in her old life, that was impossible. In her new life... well, perhaps the same rigidity didn't apply quite as much, but she'd been so busy. And, beyond that, Merci was married. So Kathryn tried to chase the thought from her mind, but she couldn't quite erase that moment just before she'd made her first kill, feeling Merci's fingers in her hair...

"Drink! I need a drink."

Kathryn said it with a sudden start and accidentally woke her friend, although Merci didn't seem to realize it.

"Uh, few hours. We're landing now, so they're of course not serving drinks, if you were wondering. No need to apologize."

She returns the smile.

"I figure we'll land, drop our stuff off, then do some light reconnaissance."

As the plane experienced some serious turbulence, Kathryn gripped her armrests with ten white knuckles. 

Merci watches as Kathryn's fingers bite into the upholstery. It was amusing to see a chink in the armor. She smiles and pats Kathryn on the knee. 

After disboarding the plane, the women take a cab to their hotel, asking the driver to pass the Institute on the way. Staring at the imposing building through the car window as they go by, Merci wonders idly if they might get lost in the damn place. They had no blueprints, but thankfully, it was such a renowned establishment that the hotel they were staying at had a brochure about it in the rack by the elevators. Plucking one out, Merci skims it while Kathryn retrieves a key. Naturally, she's prepaid this as well and they're soon in the elevator on their way to their floor. 

"It shows the gist of the layout, that helps." She says, handing it to Kathryn. 

"Want to get ready now, then head to the hotel restaurant and actually eat? I don't think we'll be doing that at the gala," she suggests.

Kathryn tosses her small luggage on the bed after hanging up the bag containing her dress. 

"Good plan. I'm going just rinse off and get ready."

Grabbing a few things, Kathryn made her way to the bathroom. It took longer than she'd anticipated, simply because she started thinking every time she stepped in the shower: business plans, strategies, personal relationships, everything. This time, it was mostly about the job. 

About half an hour later, she examined herself in the mirror. The black dress she'd selected was strapless and she'd intentionally left any necklaces at home, so the exposed shoulders and cleavage would be amplified. Also assisting with that was the fact that her hair was pulled back tightly in a bun behind her head. It was just like Merci had recommended: classy to a point, but definitely attention grabbing for someone on the prowl. Having finished applying her make up, Kathryn winked at herself and headed back into the room to check on Merci.

Merci had changed as well, sporting a tight little flesh colored number that hit mid-thigh. Her hair was loose- no threat of singeing it tonight- and her makeup had been touched up. As she slips into her heels, Kathryn exists the bathroom. When she stops and stares open-mouthed, Merci simply assumes it's because she appears weaponless. Because, really, where would she hide it? Grinning, she turns and lifts her hair, and nestled into the top of the dress, between her shoulder blades, is her gun.

She walks over to Kathryn and gives her an appreciative once over.

"I'm scared to see the tit assassination dress now. You look fantastic. If I was a man, you'd never leave this room," she says, then realizes how inappropriate that was. 

"You look very pretty," she finishes, embarrassed. Heading to Kathryn's pocketbook, she drops a tiny vial in. 

"I know it doesn't look like much, but a few drops will do the job." 

Kathryn chuckles, grinning at the comments. Was Merci actually flustered? Good; it helped cover up her own surprise. Merci generally looked fantastic wearing ripped jeans, so it was a treat to see her in something more formal. 

"Might have to save the TA dress for a special occasion, then. And I'm glad you're not a man then, because thanks to me we're running a little late. Time to leave the room and hustle over there."

The two women walked through the hotel, drawing more than a few glances as they went (with the men giving those glances drawing subsequent stares from their wives and girlfriends). They had no problem getting a cab. 

On the ride over, Merci repeatedly pulled at the hem of her dress. If it crept any higher, she be arrested for indecent exposure. 

"Alright, so let's go over it one more time. We mingle separately, I scout the room you'll be heading to, and when I give the all-clear, you lure him back there for a private, and deadly, cocktail while I stand guard, until one or both of you return to the main room, where he meets his untimely demise..."

Kathryn struggled to make eye contact with Merci, but she also wasn't trying to hide that fact from her friend. In fact, Kathryn nearly burst out laughing at one point as Merci cursed at her dress.

"Right. Yes. The plan. We mingle. I make contact with the target, you scout out the room. Make eye contact with me once you've got the room picked out- we can meet at the bar. The rest of the plan sounds good."

Kat leans back in her seat, suddenly pensive as she narrowed her eyes.

"So... I know the plan isn't actually for me to... you know... go all the way tonight. Or anything like that. But have you ever had to screw someone in... uh... the line of duty?"