Jason Flynt And The Phoenix Sapphire Jason Flynt, teenage businessman and sole heir to the Flynt fortune, is the richest man in the world. After burying himself in work and brutal training in every profession he could get his manicured hands on, he is taking tremendous steps in fulfilling his late parents' dream. To make humanity great. While that is to be done, naturally. There seems to be something anomalous brewing up in a lab on the North Pole. You can only hope Jason Flynt is ready to handle adding 'Being a Father' to his unending list of responsibilities. Table of content:
Chapter 1: Prologue "Jason Flynt," a lovely feminine voice grunted, annoyed and exasperated by the name she uttered. "Rascal's back at it again." Her companion snorted, amused. "Charming fellow, isn't he?" Said companion, Primrose, teased. "Charmingly devious, makes my job more difficult." Felicia 'Sia' Felice retorted back. She didn't always find the man so infuriating in the past, even pitied him but his continuous mysteries and misadventures had finally worn her thin. She didn't want anything to do with him. He was important, a public figure. But the people who wanted him killed came in crowds and expensive limousines with doors opened by dry-faced chauffeurs so her connection with him had always been tinged with green and red. Perhaps it was inevitable, her being the leader of a high-profile team of mercenaries and spies. She had businesses that had lead her to charity events as well where she would hear of or even catch a glimpse of the business world's golden darling. With all assets inherited from his dead parents, he was rich and doesn't even have to try. One would assume him to be a naive rich brat that could only charm and party away into the sunset. Oh, how wrong they were, are. How wrong she was. Before her first contract to kill him, she had always thought he would be an easy target, a lost boy in his little bubble of expensive champagne. Pitied him, how he had no one to guide him, much like herself. Those were all the sentimental and dismissable feelings for one to get the job done. The contract was simply to have him killed, the method doesn't matter. It was from the FBI, ironically. They weren't too fond of her. Flynt was supposedly so hard to kill that they had to swallow their pride to come knocking on her door of reinforced steel. She, at the time, actually thought that the FBI didn't want to get their hands dirty killing such a famous person if they were to be discovered. She didn't heed the contract. The sisterhood only killed the evil, the scumbags of the Earth. Flynt might have been a ditz but he was innocent. If the rule were to be broken, the guilt of the kills would eat them alive. That was when she realized that her life was a lie, sort of. Flynt was apparently involved in making illegal bioweapons capable of turning the world into puppets had he access to the water supplies. Which he did. Madam Selene Palmer, a family friend of Flynt and the then CEO of Flynt industries was on a roll. Charities, inventions, new methods of sustainable energy harvesting, huge leaps in space researching and mining, for sure the company had some sort of access to some poor countries' water supply. Flynt industries had always been a giant in business but it was all mundane with restaurants, real estate and banks... They were very green as well, very popular as the goal seems to be to better humanity and such. They did charity all the time. As did the family. With the death of the former CEO, Actaeon Flynt, came a new era for the company. In addition to the already plentiful businesses they had that made them the most expensive business in the world and made the family the richest, they started to grow in the field of science. They had transformed the once damaged Earth into something worthy of hope with the method to get rid of waste by making smart trash cans that separates trash into recycling domains. Sounds stupid but with the cooperation from the government, there was a regulation made that each household has to have at least one of that trash can. Lord only knows how that could happen. They were free though, costed the company a fuck ton but they earned back the loss by monopolizing the trash industry and reaping the recycled materials for themselves, selling more and then some. Another road of profit. The system sounded like a kid drew it up. She should've known then. The plan was drawn up by a child and he used Madam Palmer as a vessel to carry it out. Sia suspects it was the same with all of the legal businesses after that. Well, she had her spies investigate the predicament, it took time and effort, more than it needed to. They caught too many suspicions to deem it innocent anymore. Trucks with the name Flynt carved into the side always seemed to disappear into thin air after it goes flying off random greek coasts. More strangely, even FBI satellites pulled personally for Flynt can't detect anything. She knew he was up to something, something bad. She just couldn't prove it. Well, that was what the sisterhood was for. To kill evil even if the lawful couldn't. ----- The hit failed, spectacularly. The boy's bodyguard, Sasha, was formidable. He placed his charge's safety above all else and was always alert. Alas, all of that stalking did more than alarm the target. The fire alarm rang as soon as the assassin set foot onto the charity cruise ship and the Flynt heir was evacuated to safety before Primrose could pull out her Plan B weapon, her gun. It turned out that there was a fire but it was likely orchestrated and set off as soon as the threat entered as a quiet but not-so-quiet warning. After many encounters with him later, with some agents knocked out, some with their memories missing and some found in Buddhist pagodas in Cambodia, the world hasn't ended...yet and she was done. She still kept a loose eye on him anyway, to make sure she was ready for any vengeance on his part and found herself form a sort of parasocial friendship even if she hasn't met him. To be sure, she knows him but doesn't. ----- "I thought we weren't worth his time." Sia muttered indignantly. He had spared them for so long, so why arrange a meeting now? It was strange, very strange. Despite vaguely knowing of his ventures, she really couldn't understand the man- boy. "Maybe it's not related to our attempts at all...?" Offered Primrose lamely. "We do have some very nice labs, and he didn't show any interest in taking revenge to his other foes." Sia reviewed the letter again. Written in perfect, fancy calligraphy that can be described as feminine, the content itself is very innocent with no undertones of threat or blackmail or any indication that the writer meant more than he wrote. Sia contemplated, Flynt had always focused on his projects and businesses. He had offended many people but mostly for those reasons as well. His allies are prospering and he acted like the attempts on his lives were people trying to steal his candy. He acted like he didn't care. She put the letter back in the off-yellow envelope and closed it. The opening plopped to cover the letter and the seal was back in its place. As she looked at the Flynt Family symbol, she had made a decision. "Prim, prepare a dark green dress, contact the salon and have them come here tomorrow afternoon." She looked at Primrose with a final air. "You pick something green too.." "Wait, I'm coming with?!" Primrose looked utterly scandalized. She had three unscheduled meetings with Flynt in the past and Sasha had made those experiences unsavory. "You have other agents too y'know. Those who would actually like to meet Mr. Mystery?" "I'm not bringing a newbie, you know more about them than any of us, if anyone has the ability to get us out alive, it's you." Sia paused to stare meaningfully at Primrose, no one in the sisterhood could say no to their leader. She was very well versed in manipulation that she refused to call the puppy dog eyes. Primrose met her stare with a determined one herself only to deteriorate into a helpless submission. Her efforts were returned with a smug smirk and the turn of Sia's beloved squeaky swivel chair. The unpleasant sound marked the start of another migraine. God help me.
Chapter 2: Flynt A sturdy and tall young man is standing and examining himself in the full length mirror in his vast closet. Surrounded by tailored suits, the sixteen year old is in yet another suit. This one is pitch black in color and is a simple albeit not simply priced two piece that hugged his body like it was in love with him. All clean lines and well lavish fabric, whoever this is, he must be one hell of a customer. The shirt underneath is sterling white and made of peculier spider silk. Flexible and durable, it is as exotic as it is impenetrable. The owner has some opinions on that, while it is practical, it's not very charming in other aspects of life. And while he did not have a particular craving for such activities on any day, ever. His guise often required him to entertain parasitic lovers who find humor in yanking fabric off its' threads. Out of excitement? They think it's funny to waste more money on top of his valuable time? He'll never know. Mercifully, tonight he won't have to endure any of that repetitive act he had to put on. Sometimes, he repulsed himself. His companion for this event will be wary and to some extent- guilty. Sasha will be with him at all times so he won't have to fret about being in mortal danger, hopefully. Now, comes the tie. It would have to possess some character but it couldn't be too gaudy either. Not that he owned anything of the sort. The lady would no doubt wear green as it was his favorite color and she knows that much about him at least. Won't it be comical just to match her. Yes, that is probably her intention. He glazed his hand over his extensive collection and paused over a beautiful black tie with meticulous designs in dark green. He picked it up and dragged his hand under it to pull it far to scrutinize it. The base black was mapped with artistic layers of green but the stripes in diagonal were there to add a sharp tint. The green was dark enough to pull the elements together and make it subtle. He smiled but it was so tiny it could as well just been a smirk. A gift from his tailor on his birthday. He humored. Madam Rossi was always the answer. He picked a handkerchief of the same design and put them on with skilled hands. A silver tie clip was thrown in the mix as well as silver and black cuff and collar links with intricate designs that could only be clearly seen when one observes. His hair was another matter altogether. It was curly and almost touches his shoulders but he didn't want to straighten it. He also wasn't fond of hair gel, he didn't like grease in his hair. Jason wrestled with it for a while before finally taming it into a neat design that frames his face. He's aiming for immaculate and he's going to get it or die trying. Needless to say, the result was tolerable. Oh well. Other people probably wouldn't give it another thought. He inspected himself in the mirror with steady eye. Sharp and angular face with the slightest tang of Arabian origins. His jaw was sharp and his nose was high, narrow, straight and perfect. Plump, pouty pink lips with a Cupid's Bow lined at the top. Tanned skin, muscular body, broad shoulders and a uh... shapely backside. He was unrealistically handsome. At 16. His eyes were his favorite part about his appearance, they're unique yet so familiar. He has a condition called heterochromia iridum where his eyes are of two different colors. He once considered praying to his ancestors for existing in the right combination of order that allowed this genetic condition to happen. He decided against it at the end, he didn't want to sicken his family with his overabundance of theatrics. It's something he didn't want to share with the world, however. His father's clear blue eyes and his mother's exotic green ones. They were like two crystal orbs planted on his face and he loved how they reminded him of the happiest moments of his lives where he could still picture those very colours light up when they smiled. They used to, before.. He stopped his train of thoughts and quickly applied his contact lenses to his eyes, gently. He was a dinky bit far-sighted. He used a clear one over his green iris and a custom green one over his blue. Might as well go all out with this green mania. Jason shook slightly and patted himself down to look presentable before stepping in front of his almost black wooden closet door. He watched it separate into eight slices and recede into the wall in a circular motion. Just some more equipments and he was ready to go. He took out his durable glass phone. "Sasha, prepare our vehicle. The new one. I'll be down in five." Without waiting for silence and getting hung up on, he saved himself the dignity and hung up right after speaking. ----- "Sir, are you sure you don't want to carry a gun?" A growly blunt voice questioned to the person seated behind him. Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he looked out and down at the city. America, so bright from above yet so disorganized down there. Even with his best efforts, crime was unfortunately still vigorously coursing it's way through the streets. People might cheer for the improvements but it wasn't enough. The euphoria was still a long way to go but as luck would have it, he was still young. "My gargantuan bosom friend, once, I was worried. I didn't quite realize how I would go about inviting my attempted killer to a civilised meeting so you see, now that I have, scaring her away is one of the last things I ought to do. Besides, why use a gun when my pen is a deadly lazer?" Jason declared quietly and with his deep voice, it came out as a pleasant, almost whisper-like tone. Sasha, always so paranoid. Perhaps it was hypocritical for him to say that considering he wasn't a carefree individual either but it was no use insisting decisions that were already made. Astoundingly, not, Sasha didn't seem convinced. It was spectacular how a hairless eyebrow can express this notion so well. Jason turned a blind eye, he could deal with this mother hen later. Now, his master pla- "~ I saw you, dancing in the rain~ You were holding hands and I~ Will never be the sa-" Jason groaned inwardly. Curse that ringtone, although he quite like it, this is a rather inopportune time. He spared a glance at Sasha, who was still brooding. "That's my final, friend. I have to take this call." He gently flumped the pad of his thumb onto the answer button and left it a second too long before bringing the phone up to his ear. He continued to stare out of the window through half lidded eyes and stated dryly-"Jason Flynt, how did you get this number?" "Hi Jason!" A young and cheery accented voice chirped. His eyes brightened immediately. He flashed a toothy grin to Sasha before closing his mouth and staring back out the window, though the arch of his lips was still there. "Wattanak, lovely for you to call. How have you been?" His voice was still clear and quiet but it is soft and gentle this time. The girl he was talking to was a Cambodian ballerina attending the academy founded by his parents. She was there on a scholarship and he has been helping her train every time he visits. The 12 year old was so bright and talented, she was a fresh and sunny face in his days of businessing. She was such an inspiring child, impoverished but here she was, following her dreams. He didn't think he even had the proper brain facilities to feel cloying emotions anymore after the tragedies that happened but that was before he had started to really go out into the world and looked, felt, experienced. Gives one a new perspective, very much recommended. "I'm fine, my leg hurt, but I have interview next week." The voice, Wattanak, seems only to get more excited. "An interview!" Jason was putting as much genuine enthusiasm into his voice as his throat could manage. Interviews are boring but the girl really liked them for some unfathomable reason. "For YouTube video." Her voice dropped a little. Yes, he can definitely sympathize. He couldn't imagine himself in another one of those 5 minutes videos with happy coconut music in the background. "You'll get there, buddy." She has gotten there once. She was invited to a Cambodian game show right before her flight to Greece. She didn't like that one either, or rather, she didn't like how the hosts keep bringing up the fact that her name was very masculine. "At least they don't say I have a boy name." He should just change his name to Prophet Flynt. "They won't, I doubt those gits bothered to do any research about their guests." That's finally a good thing. "What about you?" Wattanak inquired. "Pardon?" He wondered if she wanted his opinions on her name. He was about to say that his bodyguard's name also sounds girly, to appease her- "How are you uh-what are you doing?" Oh. He glanced at Sasha through the mirror with a sheepish look, a rare one in his case and was met with a puzzled one in return. Oh, Sash, you'll get there buddy. He looked back out the window. His back snug against high quality synthetic leather. "I'm going on a date." He laughed inwardly at his own joke. Right. He didn't like using words such as 'lame' but now seems the proper occasion. "Really? Is she pretty?" "Yes, she's rather mature as well." As mature as a thirty two year old woman who is the leader of a mercenary gang tends to be. "Good luck!" Luck? He didn't need luck. He made sure to voice out his thoughts. "I don't need luck, I have my charms." He bit his lip and cringed. Why must he do this to himself? "*fake vomit noises* Okay okay. My friend call me, I have to go. Bye Bye!" Beep He looked at the rearview mirror to check if Sasha had witnessed his humiliation of being hung up on. And if that smirk was anything to go by.. Curses. His unflappable expression didn't change though. They were close to the restaurant and he wanted to have everything ready. X-ray sunglasses at night, not the best of ideas but maybe he can come off as obnoxious enough to pull it off. An earpiece, set to listen to heartbeats of a particular target. She knows enough, that would not be unusual. His hands were bare, no calluses, the gloves he usually wore did a good job of preventing that. He has a colossal amount of gadgets on his person, worn by Sasha and more... The flying black ship descended and landed smoothly on a dark concrete road before the wings withdrew back into the main body making it look like an expensive black sports car. Taking a turn onto the brighter main road, it sped up and onto it's destination.
It looks like this: [UOTE="Kaptain krunch, post: 5846706, member: 177047"] Chapter 1: Prologue [/UOTE] [UOTE="Kaptain krunch, post: 5846718, member: 177047"] Chapter 2: Flynt [/UOTE] (I removed the Qs)
Chapter 3: The Meeting Sia and Primrose arrived five minutes late but were greeted with smiles nonetheless. Firstly, a fake one from the man who opened the door of their limo, though he did seem a little starstruck after seeing the two of them. Wonder why. Sia smirked, being attractive does feel good. One the other hand, Primrose was indifferent to the attention. Secondly, an accommodating smile from a pretty waitress whose outfit looked like the ostentatious restaurant didn't pay her well enough. And last but not least, a practiced one from Flynt himself. Sia can't help but admit that it did look very convincingly sultry. And oddly fitting on such a young face. But that is to be discussed later. The restaurant was very extravagant from the outside, too much so. With a name like 'La Plaque', in italics, she didn't look forward to the following affair. ----- "We have an appointment with Jason Flynt, I'm sure you know where he is?" Primrose said to the waitress, a trying smile on her face despite her very intense desire not to be there. "Oh! Right this way please." The waitress, Jane, from her name tag, flashed them a nervous smile before leading them to the first floor. Sia couldn't tell if she was nervous or just new. The first floor was a huge contrast to the unpleasant one underneath. Gone, were the heavy golden curtains and the blinding lights and in replacement were darker colors and more subtle decors. Now this, is how you do luxury. Sia thought to herself as she looked around, for all possible escape routes and hiding places. Surprisingly, there were quite many. Her thoughts strayed to how Flynt found this place to begin with. Did he go out looking for restaurants with deceivingly garish exterior? She really wanted to know, that knowledge may come in handy in the future. They were lead to a table in the far corner and in the expansive room of scarcely placed tables, it was clear that the intention was to be private enough to talk but public enough to ensure that nothing appalling would transpire. There were a few batches of customers here and there, rich and powerful ones, visibly. The jewellery in this place alone would be more than enough to buy a small villa. But only as expected of course. She arrived to the table of doom with clicking sounds of her heels, followed by Primrose's Italian leather boots. The waitress excused herself, leaving them to the company of the two men who were just standing up to greet them. Sia noticed that they both were very ...noticeable. It must be hard for them to blend in, what with both of them being taller than most crowds and that's only the least of their worries. The one who stood up first was the infamous bodyguard and he looked every bit deserving of his reputation. Being the tallest in the room, unmistakingly shy of a staggering seven foot tall stature, he was a monstrosity of a man built mostly of muscles and scars. There was a scar that started right to the left of his Adam's Apple and disappeared in his collar. He looked European and with a name like Sasha, he was probably Russian. She wouldn't be surprised. His dark brown eyes always darted around on high alert and his body look ready to pounce at any sign of danger. And right at that moment, his targets were Primrose and herself. Interesting. And terrifying. (Yo bodyguard's so big he could be your bullet meat shield for three hours straight. Ha. *Ahem*) The star of the show on the other hand, can be described with four words. Tall, blonde and handsome. Plus exotic. She couldn't find any words more fitting to describe him other than the flowery ones. Attractive. Alluring. Bewitching. Captivating. And the list goes on. She was aware that she herself was staring a little too intensely. She looked to her friend and caught Prim also ogling him albeit not as subtly as she. She was very elusive. Hopefully. Drawing her attention away from his his face and focusing on things other than his looks, she was doused in cold water from the reality that this wasn't some teen drama and that there was a reason she was so nervous in meeting him before. No fact that he looks better in real life than in pictures can change that. None. And he was too young. And she was over thirty. And she why is her train of thoughts going so fast? ..Besides, his looks were only to be expected. His parents were beautiful people and he inherited their best features. Actually, the Flynt's history can be described as beautiful people flocking around and breeding. Onto the 'real' important details. His posture was perfect, like that of a ballet dancer. Straight and regal. His suit was fitting and distracting. She mentally slapped herself. He looked totally confident and clothed in his undoubtedly expensive fabrics, she could see why. His smile was one set primarily to charm and break all of your defences. Two dimples? God-It was bright, almost as vibrant as his wow-eyes. She didn't dare let her gaze linger. His colors, as expected, included green. From his stylish tie, to the matching pocket square and to his feline green eyes, there was clearly a theme playing here. His hair was wavy and neat which frames his face and ..earpiece. Right. There was also a pair of sunglasses on the table which she noticed once she forced herself to look away again. Hmm. Her thought process was interrupted by a nudge to her back and the deep, soft-spoken voice that entered her ears. Posh, slight New-Zealand accent. She wondered how he had gotten it. If he minded them being late, he didn't show. "Miss Felice. Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Flynt avered as he extended a hand to her but not for a handshake. She put her hand in his as not to be impolite and was responded by a bow from him to land a soft kiss on her knuckle that was also very polite and did not linger for even a second. How disappointing. He stood tall again, six foot one perhaps? Flynt then transferred his gaze to Primrose who looked like she wanted to sprint. He instead offered her a close lipped smile and a little nod as greeting. She could see his hair flowing with the movement. "And you must be Miss Wei, we've met before," His friendly little smile transformed smoothly into a knowing smirk that looked more deceitful and genuine than it had the right to be. He tilted his head, hair also moving, to his compatriot who didn't make the slightest attempt of being amiable."This is Sasha and you may call me, Flynt" He voiced grew provocatively low at the end, becoming more quieter than it already was before cutting off. "Please, have a seat." He gave Sasha a look who in response, moved to drag a chair out for Primrose while his charge dragged one for Sia. They waited until the ladies were seated before moving to take their own. What perfect gentlemen. Sia thought suspiciously to herself. Flynt took a brief glance at all of them before opening this mouth, his hands ready to do practiced gestures. "Now-" Flynt started but was cut off by Sia. She had a more urgent matter to address. "Sorry to interrupt, but what did you mean by 'Miss Wei?'" She questioned, keeping her voice as still and silky smooth as possible. "Isn't it obvious enough? Evidently, I'm referring to the only other Miss at this table who is definitely not yourself. Surely, even a toddler could understand." And then it fell, the mask was partially gone, only because he allowed it to. His tone was still crisp, sophisticated and soft. She didn't think that would change anytime soon throughout this conversation. "That is her name, yes? Wei Wenling?" He looked over to Primrose as if to seek confirmation but clearly he seemed as sure of himself as a man being sure the sky is blue. Primrose, Wei Wenling, on the other hand, had her eyes narrowed and turned her head to give Sia an exasperated look before staring back at Flynt with a determined and unimpressed one. She didn't seem too upset by the fact that her real name that she has been able to conceal for years was exposed so casually. Well, looks like those previous encounters had lowerred her shock factor remarkably. She was suddenly glad she had successfully guilt-tripped her into coming. Having this kind of emotional pillar was reassuring at the very least. She didn't know what to expect. "Well? Was that supposed to impress anyone?" Wei Wenling scoffed and mockingly questioned in a bored and aloof tone. She seemed the embodiment of calmness. "Why, of course not," Flynt responded without pause, he took her dismissal in stride and also a graceful wave of his hand. He seriously moved like some sort of dancer. Martial arts background? It was impossible for her to tell, his whole body didn't give anything away except an amazing control of every single muscle and tendons. If he wasn't moving, he was staying still. No fidgeting and never a moment of awkward pose. Every move was planned and no energy was wasted, except to do dramatic gestures every so often. He was at least a ballet dancer. Who wore gloves because even if he didn't practice martial arts, to gain those muscles, even weightlifting would give him some calluses. She just doesn't know which fact to believe. She looked down at her own palms which displayed calluses, showing exactly where pressure has been frequently applied and thus what weapons she used. Maybe she should start wearing gloves herself. She paid attention to Flynt once again and not her own hands. "I may not be the nicest of men but I wouldn't be so rude to insult your intellect like that. I might try to impress others with casually saying aloud their secret but not you. I am here to discuss serious matters so I would very much like to get the trivial facts over with." He paused to face Wei Wenling. "And please, don't fret, your secret is safe with me." He then gestured to Sasha "With him as well, you have my word. How ever reliable you deem it." With that, he intertwined his hands on the clothed table- nice watch, green interior- and with a look she'd often seen on her professors before they began a lecture, he said, "Now, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted," he gave her a pointed look which she didn't bother reacting to. He looked a little deflated. Cute. "Was to keep an open mind. You'll find that that would help you significantly." He paused for a dramatic effect "Trust me." How anticlimactic. And yet, he clearly didn't seem like he would put much faith in that advice. "I invited you here today, to propose a deal...
Chapter 4: The Proposal Felice and Primrose were everything he expected them to be. Beautiful, composed, cautious and surprisingly not very aggressive considering they killed for a living. They had a good grip on their emotions, or rather their expressions. He was delighted that his earpiece has already proven to be of good use. He and Sasha had arrived five minutes early and had set up a flash grenade under the table as soon as they arrived. It could be activated with a voice command. He's not paranoid, just vigilant. That was what he thought anyway. If there comes the situation where it would be required for him to use it, he could just pass it off to the authorities as an assassination attempt on his life. That wouldn't be new. 'So nice to be loved.' He thought sarcastically to himself. 'Maybe I should start apologizing more often.' He supposed the new world was quite difficult to adjust to, especially for oil tycoons. And mining companies as well. Not his fault they weren't smart enough to take his side and join the ride. Instead, they insisted on being money-leeching and narrow-minded so he had no choice but to bankrupt them. Pity. Oh well, it was for the greater good. That plus the fact that he still couldn't comprehend why anyone would refuse a business deal with Flynt industries. ----- A quick x-ray scan right after the girls had gotten off the Limo had shown them to be carrying some concealed weapons. He would be a hypocrite to loiter on that subject any further so he didn't. Felice was clad in green just as expected, in a pleasing silk dark green dress where the slit skirt that reached just below her ankle covered the pistol strapped on her thigh. Her heels were black, tall and looks almost as painful as pointe shoes. She didn't wear any sort of jewellery and her short red hair was arranged into a handsome bob cut. She didn't wear any makeup either and if his guess was correct, her purse chains could be pulled out into nunchucks. He was quite certain he saw that combination disguise somewhere, in a music video he had been forced to watch by Wattanak. Yes, he recalled it was in a song by the artist named Taylor Swift. He reckon they had more in common than they knew. Green and black with odd colored hair, they were undeniably matching. He acknowledged her good tastes in fashion, maybe after this whole ordeal blows over they could become good friends. It was rare to find anyone tasteful nowadays. It was curious how her coffee-brown eyes alaway darted around ever since she entered. To check for escape routes surely, and maybe some weapons as well but it was a shame she was never going to notice the key one. That is, if you don't consider Sasha a formidable weapon already. She put on a persuasive facade of confidence with loud clicks of her heels and puffed chest with shoulders rolled back and even though she seemed quited used of this posture, her heart was beating rather quickly, pulse increasing the nearer she trod. He was sure they only needed to talk for a little while until she let loose and showed her real confidence. He was here to bargain with Sia Felice and he wanted to talk to the woman who lead a skilled group of killers not some nervous shell. Primrose's style was more masculine and casual, outfit black with so much leather. Without a doubt, real leather, he internally grimaced. From his seat at the corner, he could see her glaring at him as she approaches. He imagined she wasn't all fond of their last brush where his ruse included but wasn't limited to humanoid robots that can mimic faces and a gas that produced the effects of drunkenness. He had a video recording of that, high quality and all. To be fair, she had jumped him at one of his more entertaining underwater lairs and to compliment her managing to even get that close, he decided to let her play with his newest toys. It seemed a good idea at the time. He hadn't yet planned this rendezvous then. Maybe he should show some good graces and say sorry. But that would ruin the flow of the meeting. He contemplated and figured it good to ignore their animosity for now. Primrose had a big storm coming and he didn't want to upset her further by bring up that fiasco. Anyhow, she had daggers in her boots, again, leather, and her hairpin was a taser. He would know, he designed it and sold it anonymously on the black market. He really felt bad now, not only did her terrorize her, he even took her money. But all in all, he regretted nothing. ----- When they have finally arrived, five minutes late, he ignored the urge to spout a snarky comment about their tardiness and greeted them like he would greet any socialite he met at a charity party. He let the manners ingrained into him by his grandmother guide him through the introduction he while further examined the two. He knows Sasha is assessing them as well, as he did with everyone. He saw, or rather heard the reaction people usually have when they saw his face. He didn't give it much thought. It's human nature to appreciate things they find attractive and it would be crude of him to grow smug over such shallow attention. In fact, he took advantage of his looks, dressed up nicely to make good impressions. It has always worked in his favor so far but he had a feeling this time the effect he usually had on people wouldn't last that long. And for that he was glad. For he can't let his looks overshadow his sharp wit now can he? That's right. He can't. Ah. It would seem Felice did take notice of his glasses after all. No worries, she was about to forget all about them in just a moment. And so he revealed the fact that he knew Primrose's real name. Really, offhandedly. There were two reasons to explain this action. Or justify it. It was a major secret, no matter how good Primrose was at acting like it didn't affect her at all. Her heart was hammering in her chest and he had expected a worse response. Instead, she calmed her expression and kept everything in her head. Perhaps she cared for her boss's mental state enough to do this or because she didn't want to show him weakness. Whatever it was, he deemed it as a good outcome. Truth be told, it wasn't just her name that he knew. To discover that name in the first place, her whole background was researched so basically he was telling her he knew her name and the entire sob story that follows. He knew he must have been bringing up a lot of bad memories. So yes, he had two reasons to do what he did. One was to break the ice and to say that statement proved how excessive he was is an understatement. It gave the table something to discuss aside from the elephant in the room which was the two parties' history. The second reason was to get it out of the way, which he did tell them. He wanted to give Primrose as much time to adjust as possible before diving into the discussion which will include a lot about her history. He just hoped she was ready. ----- "I invited you here today, to propose a deal." Flynt stated and his expression turned serious which made him look much older than he was. The mask dropped and in place was a handsome young face that looked like it had been dealing with stress for years. He moved his foot under the table to slide his briefcase out from under before picking it up and placing it on the table. It was black and made of metal, it looked strong and durable despite how light it was when he picked it up. Sia estimated the thing can survive a nuclear bomb. He placed his right palm on the smooth surface and it lit up like a screen, the other sides remained dull. On the surface now displayed a circle which was divided into five slices which looked identical. Sia was entranced. Flynt placed his finger on one of the slices and dragged it away from the centre and it followed. The slice then divided into many shapes which floated away slowly from the source and each other. He dragged some of them and flicked them back into the empty place in the chart and then left some to flow to the edge and disappear. The pie chart now had four full slices and one that managed to only fill up half of the space. He did all of that in less than five seconds. After that all hell broke loose and the slices all divided and floated away leaving only the lines that divided their boundaries in place. Flynt's fingers was back on the screen and danced furiously yet effortlessly in the quest of selecting random pieces and letting go of some to drag them back in the chart. The shapes seem to liquidize as they sorted themselves to fit between the lines that make up the triangular slices. After the last of the small pieces ran off the screen, a circle was left and even though it was smaller than before, all the slices ended at the same size making it a perfectly even circle. Well that was fun. Sia snapped out of her stupor and lifted her head to look at Flynt questioningly. He was still staring at the screen so she looked around only to find that they were the only people left on this floor. She saw the waitress standing at a respectable distance away from them and wondered why she hadn't come and taken their order yet. She began to feel uneasy. She took a glance at Primrose and was even more shocked that her companion didn't seem to notice and was staring at the screen absentmindedly, lost in her own thoughts. Her face turned cold as she reached into the slit of her skirt subtly and left her hand there, ready to retrieve the pistol as soon as anything strikes. She used her foot to gently nudge at Primrose as she took her eyes off her to silently demand an explanation from Flynt. Her brown eyes meet with vibrant green ones directly and she was surprised to see that he had been staring at her, waiting for her to finally pay attention. He blinked and ignored her inquiries. He looked back at the screen, directing her eyes towards it and she saw a phrase in Arabic. She knew some languages but she hasn't yet gotten to learn Arabic. Perhaps that came easier to Flynt since his mother was Egyptian. "Aftah" She heard him say. She couldn't understand it but the case popped open and the screen turned to dull metal once again so she could only guess something along the lines of Open. She couldn't hold her anxiety in any longer so she flatly said her intentions. "Explain." She couldn't keep the growl out of her voice. He looked at her knowingly while slowly and gently opened the briefcase but he decided not to satisfy her worry infused curiosity. "That was my password." He answered plainly without the purpose of actually explaining. The grip on her pistol tightened and she caught a heated gaze directed at her. Sasha. He locked his gaze onto hers and pointedly looked at the tense muscles on her arm. His gaze was cold and he already had a hand on Flynt's shoulder, ready to push him out of harm's way. She did some breathing exercises to calm down. She had too many experiences with Flynt and she knows it is not wise to underestimate him. If he wanted to hurt them, he would've done so. Breathe, stay calm. Her refined survival instincts are kicking in and she was doing her best to not let that cloud her rationality. She decided to ask again. Flynt didn't seem the type to lash out and kill people, if their past experiences have proven anything. "Why are we the only ones left here?" She might just be silly but she has survived this far and on many occasions, she had nearly been killed when odd things like this had happened. Now she had the attention of the whole table. Primrose's consciousness has finally split through the crack of her memories and into the predicament of real life. Flynt, who was sorting through some papers he had retrieved from the case, looked up at her again while his hands were still elegantly flipping the pages. And Sasha was still glaring at her with one hand on his charge and the other reaching under the table slowly and if she hadn't been paying attention, she might've missed it. A gun under the table... She should've guessed. "With the oddities happening here, I thought it wise to make sure nothing makes the news tomorrow. As you no doubt already know this, I'm quite the influential figure." Flynt finally responded. He paused and squinted a little as if to contemplate. "Or maybe I'm just famous but either way, it is for the best that we are in private company during our ordeal." "You couldn't have just invited us to a private location the the first place then?" "If I had done so, you would bring a nuclear weapon instead of a pistol. Which you are currently very close to utilizing. I'd appreciate it if you'd consider changing your decision on doing so." Is Flynt countering her defences with dry humour? Or is he always so formally informal? "Or you might just deem it too suspicious to attend at all. And I wouldn't blame you, our past relations weren't exactly congenial by any stretch of the imagination. Still, that is the unwanted outcome if I wanted to successfully execute my plan which I very much do. So I had to find a way however mendacious it might be. I hope you still heed my promise of a civilised discussion. Like I said, keep an open mind. I like to keep things practical and I see no harm in a little white lie." She supposed it's reasonable. She just wanted to be informed of the development before she had to ask. Her and Primrose's safety isn't the easiest subject to maintain so it's easy for her to get a little jumpy. In the back of her mind however, she was curious if all sixteen year old spoke this way. She herself didn't have that big a vocabulary. She would rather focus her attention and efforts on things that were more relevant, especially in her line of work. "I would like you to keep me in the loop about any other surprises." She said with emphasis and restraint while retrieving her hand and crossing her arms. She shared an identical look of vigilance and relief with Primrose as they both payed attention again to the case. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Flynt assured but he dragged his words like he wanted to add 'Your highnesses' at the end while rolling his eyes. Thankfully, in favor of professional modus operandi, he kept it terse and dismissed her qualms. So much bad blood and the evening was nowhere to reaching its climax. Sia sighed internally. This was going to be a long night.
Chapter 5: The Proposal II Primrose was panicking, she didn't like the situation at all. Flynt knew her name, her background and now they had no witnesses if things were to go wrong. She would be a fool to trust the waitress. She just really wanted to know what he wants from this. "I'm quite sure you're familiar with this face," Flynt started again as he put the stack of papers onto the table next to the case. The paper on top had a face that she knew all too well. It was of a middle-aged man, ruggedly handsome with brown hair, brown eyes and a tall, lanky stature. His eyes looked kind and practically emits warmth of melted chocolate. "But if you need your memory refreshed, this is Arcane Grift. He was a scientist and ally of yours if I'm not mistaken. Which, of course not. He also died three years ago in a lab accident." He continued to explain, with that annoying humour only he, and maybe his bodyguard, can seem to enjoy at the moment. She didn't have the luxury. Dr. Grift was a loyal and trusted advisor and strategist that had been with them from the beginning. He was like an older brother to them and for Flynt to mention him in such a casual fashion and to refer to his demise was a tad disrespectful. But she held her temper. "We know him, he used work with us for a long time." Sia looked almost relieved when she started speaking. She does realize she had been quite absent in the conversation earlier. "My condolences. It must have been devastating to receive the news of his passing on." He actually sounded genuine this time. Maybe death is too sad a subject for lil ol' Flynt. She thought to herself. "And I know all too well just how hard it is to handle the memories after the death of a loved one so that's why I want to apologise for what I'm going to show you next." She was about to ask what it was before she was hit by a pang of hope, disbelief and pain as she looked at the new piece of paper placed on the stack. It was of Dr. Grift, older and even thinner than before. He looked older than he was before his death. He's alive. Primrose was in shock for the second time today. She also heard a quiet gasp from her leader as well. She tried to calm her breathing but to no avail. She couldn't even bring herself to begin to question the authenticity of the photograph. She had so many questions. What happened? How did he escape? Why didn't he return? She heard Flynt clear his throat. "This is a photograph taken by one of my satellites and as you can see, we have discovered Dr. Grift alive and in poor shape to be perfectly honest." His voice buzzed even more quietly. He waved the waitress over who was looking like an adventurer about to enter the dragon's cave. She looked cautiously at the shock stricken assassins and flashed Flynt a nervous smile. "We'd like some water, if you don't mind." Flynt politely told the waitress before looking from her retreating back to the photograph. "Drink a glass of water and calm down, your questions will be answered shortly." The water arrived and she quickly gulped it down as did Sia. "Where was this taken?" Sia asked with a choked up voice. "The arctic region, specifically, Greenland." He slid the paper off revealing a new piece. "Now here, is also our friend but in arctic Russia." It was another picture of him, he was visibly stressed and miserable. "I have reason to believe that he is conducting some nefarious experimentations on the arctic ice itself, reason unknown but we do know that there are some unwilling participants involved." He breathed deeply and continued on. "Namely, children." Children. She was visibly having a hard time believing that her kind mentor who had strong core morals would do anything of the sort. But then again, she didn't expect him to be alive either. She was starting to question everything she knew. "My satellites that were specifically pulled to surveil the North Pole were blocked and all we had were static images. I had tried to send some bugs over through spies but they didn't have a clue where they were going. My drones suffered the same fate as my satellites. I believe the technology being used here is the one that also makes up a component of my pen." He took a beautiful fountain pen out of his suit jacket, it was black with silver accents and the clip was embedded with a green gem stone. He lightly caressed it affectionately and the movement looked quite natural for such a practiced man. "This may look like a normal fancy pen that every rich bloke seems to always have but mine is special. There is a radio wave transmitter in here that I invented, it intervenes with every transmitted signals from devices that don't have specific permission from me. I have some in development by my engineers back at Athens but obviously the area wasn't secured enough. The security cameras were looped during the theft. When we got it working again, we found out that the thief was a woman dressed in all black. Cliched but effective." He showed a clear picture of a petite figure crouching next to a water tank in what looks like a set from a sci-fi movie. She was clad in black and her face was entirely covered, it was a wonder she could navigate at all. "Anyone you know?" Flynt asked but was clearly not expecting an answer. "I know her." Sia relied after a few seconds of scanning her own memories. She swallowed and continued. "She works for the russian mafia, one of the best burglars in business. Not very trustworthy but is willing to do anything for the right prize." "So she sides where the money lies..." Flynt seemed pleasantly surprised at the new piece of information but it was shown through the narrowing of cat-like eyes. "We have used a vast network of cameras and more satellites to track her exit from our facilities to a safehouse nearby. When I sent some agents there, she was gone but she did leave some evidence connecting her to the mafia. We had nearly been able to successfully chase her down but she bloody used the transmitter when she knew she was in trouble." He subtly made an annoyed face. "They were new and weren't programmed to accept any devices yet." "So what I gathered is that she works with the mafia and they work with Grift?" Primrose suggested. "Dr. Grift isn't that well off, he put all of his money into investing in his labs and they were evidently burned to ashes. The mafia don't work with the poor. Their main purpose is to make money." Sia provided. "Unless whatever ungodly thing they're brewing up is going to earn them more money." Flynt quietly stated. Sia faked a cough. "Um, So what was it about children?" "Exactly one month after the robbery, there had been an increase in kidnapping reports. From the police database, I had connected some of those kidnappings to the mafia as well. It was easy to access mafia database but due to my previous encounters with them, they had anything even remotely close to relating to me written down in paper. It's such a thrill and disappointment at the same time when the other party is prepared." He leaned back in his chair and so subtly moved closer to the bulking body of his bodyguard who kept a straight face the whole time throughout. "Though it seemed whoever was doing to the accounting was new as the name Dr. grift was left in there for all to see but the only information in that file were the names of the 20 kidnapped children. I did not know what to make of this but I have a hunch. A scientist that was supposedly dead but isn't, suspicious. Combine that with kidnapped children, absolutely bizarre." He left the rest unsaid. "Now that you know some details, I would like to have your cooperation on this case. There is far too little information I have on Grift so any help is appreciated. You will be paid handsomely as well, should you wish." He was staring at Primrose and Sia expectantly. "Also, me telling you all this is already a rare sign of trust, I hope you take that into consideration." Primrose looked at Sia and in her mind, a decision was already made. Sia nodded back at her. "We agree, but we don't need the money, we need answers." Said Sia, "And for the children as well." She added. Flynt smirked wryly, satisfied with their decision but also not looking forward to this venture. "That is much preferable." He looked down at his watch. "Well, the new wave of reservation is going to pour in now, we will continue this discussion later." He waved to the waitress while still speaking to them, "Now, I did invite you to dinner in my letter." The waitress arrived and relaxed that the atmosphere wasn't as bad as before. Primrose didn't know how it had happened. People often said ignorance is bliss but now that they knew more than they did, they were actually relieved. She looked at Flynt, composed and nonchalant as ever, shining the waitress a bright smile. She suddenly felt nauseous, all the talk about children, she didn't quite get the scale of it. It hasn't settled in yet. She needed something to ground her, something familiar. This expensive restaurant and her strange new allies didn't help. Sia seemed to notice her paling complexion. She rubbed her elbow gently while Flynt was looking at the menu, one was also opened and put in front of her. "You alright?" Sia asked with concern. "No, this is weird." She decided to tell the truth. Flynt seemed to ignore them to give the illusion of privacy. Sia examined her a little. "Hey, I know a place to eat, it's not fancy but it has the best noodles in New york." Sia announced. It was a miracle how much a good secret and common goal can break down perfect facades. Sia was already acting friendly with Flynt when thirty minute ago, she trusted him like one one would trust a reformed serial rapist. Primrose thinks it's inevitable, they had an important mission and trust is crucial in teamwork. Flynt merely lifted is head and stared at Sia after he heard at suggestion. He then scrutinized both of them before giving a small shrug and closing the menu minutely, giving it back to the waitress who did not seem in any way, shape or form, dissatisfied. He tapped the table twice to signal something to the waitress, in which the content Primrose didn't have a clue of. The waitr-Jane nodded before coming to her side of the table to take the menu back. Primrose could smell expensive perfume on her, surprisingly. It seems this restaurant really likes to give false first impressions. She looked at Flynt who was just standing up along with Sasha so she also stood up. Sia smiled and stood abruptly as well, traces of horror barely leaving her eyes. "We'll tell the Limo to leave first." She turned to Flynt, "We'll ride with you, is that okay?" "My pleasure." Flynt smiled amiably. She didn't find his smiles so charming anymore, just...fake. The smirks and grimaces were more genuine and attractive in her opinion. Before they left, she noticed that the waitress was starting to feel the underside of the table. Strange. She shrugged and continued to walk. Today was enough.
Chapter 6: Contemplating Jason Flynt was a patient person. He prided himself on that fact. At most times of the day, that meant he could endure the ignorance of the wandering merry souls going about their day as the stupid beings they are. He couldn't help being irritated by people if he didn't know them well. Everyone has their own story yada yada yada... Maybe if he'd knew of those stories he would be able to see past the dumbfounded looks he'd often received every time he initiated a conversation. Or when some think enough of themselves to come and talk to him but he could see past their outer innocence to know all they wanted was a freaky night in. But that's all just extension of the fact that he can charm his way through any social interactions even if he wanted no part in them. On the other hand, he treated his business partners quite differently. Not as flowery but polite enough, so much so that he wouldn't be mistaken for a hedonistic heathen who was no good at anything but to seduce a deal nor a mannerless crude. Somewhere in between is quite ideal for him. Because that's the professional etiquette and once he can achieve that then he wouldn't have built any undesirable imprint that his ingenious proposals would fail to erase. That being said, this business deal was already going in the wrong direction. Though he admit he did have a soft spot- or perhaps a sour one- for familial betrayal, he couldn't believe he had let some assassins drag him to their hang out completely out of sympathy because they were having an early existential crisis. Well he certainly could believe it now as he was sitting comfortably but uneasily on the shotgun seat of his own vehicle with two unknowingly unwelcome passengers on the backseat about ready to vomit all over his expensive fake leather. Well, it's fake for ethical purposes but expensive for all the luxurious ones. Anyway, the important thing was that he could be assassinated right in his own Panther Aeromobile, on his way to a completely unfamiliar restaurant with possibly endless traps and threats and don't even get him started on the food... He'd always liked to look on the bright side despite his eccentricity for having known things most normal sixteen year olds didn't, couldn't and probably for the best, shouldn't. Like losing your parents at a young age, being violated- raped, getting involved in the criminal underworld and knowing all too much about seemingly righteous people. He always did have it hard but he believed if he couldn't change something then the best course of action would be to learn from it and grow strong. The only thing that kept him going through his pains were the wishes and optimism that were the legacy of his parents and science which kept his childlike curiosity burning through the darkness that was once his innocence. To him, philanthropy wasn't an enjoyment, it was a necessity. It gave him meaning in life and it was his only thread of finding his place in this sad but hopeful web known as the world. Humans have a penchant for fixing problems, like a bright woman wanting to fix a cold unfeeling man- widely depicted in the form of literature, a doctor wanting to fix a patient, and simply an engineer wanting to fix a car. He was different though, he was a Flynt and if there was something generations of his family liked to do it was fixing the world. But he was also Jason Flynt and he was going to do it like they had never done before, one man can't change the world but he will prove that statement wrong. He was optimistic, there were so many things in the world to appreciate and so many things to do, his daily schedule was non-living prove of that. That was why he decided to review all that he had observed from said assassins and quietly wait for his approaching demise. If there ever was one. He'd be taking them down with him if there was. Flynt gently shook his head while looking down, his thoughts were running a million miles per hour again and he wished he would stop having this huge attachment to thoughts about death and specifically, his. He did a colossal amount of research about these fine ladies and knew he should probably trust them but the word assassin still sounded unsavory on his tongue. To trust or not to trust, that was the question. No, it wasn't. He had already accepted their invitation and any retaliation because of his boorish paranoia that he finally accepted to having will cause a discord. That would mean deal off the table, no trust, no cooperation, no mission and no rescue. He understood that much. The real dilemma was to worry or not to worry, about the situation that he was not likely going to change. The better option, evidently, was the latter. So he snuggled further into his seat, sent the outsiders a concerned look through the mirror and finally reviewed the night's events. ----- In the first moments you meet someone, you can form an impression. When you talk to them and observe their mannerisms and clothing so on and so forth, you take in details that will sail you across the shallow seas that those impressions are. It was almost funny how many things you can judge from by just observing. Jason often tries to deduct whatever he can and form a hypothesis, much like the character Sherlock Holmes from the stories written by Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle. Though he doesn't place himself as high as the eccentric detective in the field of deduction. It is absolutely useless to worry about such things as after all, Sherlock Holmes isn't real and the author always have the advantage in this prediction thing, Sherlock is primarily just solving the cases backwards. That's always a good assurance for one's ego. Felice was a woman well versed in martial arts as well and armed combat. She truly is the one in charge of her team despite not being as physically powerful as Primrose. She is more assertive, more protective and is well respected by her companion. Wise choice of order in his opinion, she gets over her shock very quickly compared to her panicked partner and her body language shows assurance and comfort to Primrose even if she herself is unfamiliar with the circumstances. She is a practitioner of practicality but just a healthy dose, enough that her style stays minimalistic and not lacking. The lack of jewellery is a show of that. Her accent indicates that she is an american-born but some quirks in her spoken voice also tells that she can speak French like a native and considering neither of her parents are French, it is safe to assume she has been to the country long enough to imitate all of their common oohs and aahs. Her hair wasn't styled by herself, she had a team of professionals do it for her and judging by the er- smell, not to be creepy, it lacked the burnt of a curling iron so it's probable she had it permanently curled. Although not too long ago judging by her roots. He had seen her with the same hair ever since she had been obsessively ganging on his life and he had to admit it suits her. She has most of herself figured out, very comfortable in her own skin and the confidence you could only expect from a truly mature person. Yes, maturity isn't always the penchant to be stiff and uptight. Though, her hair looked very orderly today with some expensive gel in it, she did dress up nicely for the occasion. No make up, minimalistic and she truly didn't need it. That would cover up her naturally sharp features and clear skin. Her dress was made of expensive flexible silk and although not invincible, very easy to move in. Her heels were approximately three inches thick and she walked in them as well as a runway model, obviously very good balance but she was no dancer. Her mannerism wasn't as refined as one. She was single, no ring and no signs she had been indulging in any unholy activities recently, or she might just be a virgin. Not probable but she did look very meaningful and her gaze towards him wasn't one of lust but only aesthetic appreciation. Her weapons were pistols, rifles, swords and bow and arrow. She had a plentiful sleep last night, no eyebags and very energetic. She had also eaten her good fill of lunch as she didn't remember about the lack of food until she closely inspected her surroundings. Her purse was well worn as opposed to her dress or heels, a sentimental gift maybe? Her skin was olive colored and evenly distributed throughout her body so not from long exposure in the sun or a tropical country, she hadn't been traveling to any hot countries then. There were no health problems or injuries as far as his text book, unpracticed medical expertise could tell. no scars either so she was likely the mastermind and not the fighter, no wonder he had never met her in person. Well, her plans would've worked well on others so he could only blame her bad judgement of choosing opponents. Trained in martial arts but doesn't go out into the field herself, that's a situation that would garner less caution from her opponents to believe she was defenseless but that could be her trump card. She had an impeccable straight back and the tip of her fingers were peppered with light calluses, piano player. Very nice fragrance, Pure Poison, Dior. He had smelt the same perfume on his secretary sometimes and on his tailor, Madam Rossi who he considers a woman of great style. He had complimented her on it one day and she had told him the brand. Well there was another clue about where she usually frequents. All he had to do was do a scan of the security cameras in every shop that sell it and an online skim as well, his A.I was adequate for the job. But he ought not to, it wasn't necessary no matter no much he wants to. That would be an embarrassing invasion of privacy if he was ever to be found and he couldn't explain himself with an "Oh, I'm just making sure" either. He would be accused of perversion. That would not be good. Primrose's style was more aggressive and child friendly. To say that her attire was appropriate for the restaurant's dress code was completely false. La Plaque often make exceptions but they'v always liked their clientele to dress with consideration of their image. Perhaps it doesn't matter, Primrose was a beauty and he doubts anyone would focus more on her get up more than her face. Eventhough she didn't fit in in terms of style, she did strangely compliment the odd but attractive table with a dash of handsome and humble attire. It made the table look very unusual and the normal on lookers ought to wonder what on Earth could these people have in common. In his modest opinion, they looked like a racially diverse group of supermodels and the tough bulky military dad with scars. That was only a passing thought though, he didn't want to be compared to a supermodel, he preferred a profession with more- well, recognition for it's academic expertise. Not that there's anything wrong with being a model, he rather thinks it's a clever way to get money. Superficial, maybe. But money is money all the same. He gathered Primrose to be a little insecure of her dominance and how others perceive her competence. She was raised as a sheltered young miss in her family if his memory serves him right, and she had always been looked upon as a little princess. That was reasonable for her outlook on life then, she always had to prove herself. It also explains her outfit, trying to look masculine because she thinks if she looks even a little pretty, people will underestimate her. He could sympathize, he did choose an old family friend to run the company and he himself became a regent from time to time while slowly taking the empire back from her. That was because he seemed too young to take seriously. Primrose didn't have that problem although she thinks she does. Lots of people are terrified of her and few the implications of her lineage. She was raised in a powerful cultivation family before it was wiped out. To others, they thought it was a triad group of sorts. He suspects it was the ancient practice of patriarchy in cultivation families that made the strongest fighter of the mysterious Moon Hunters self doubt. Quite pathetic really, but habits die hard he reckon. Anyway, Primrose had quite a pretty face, contrary to her leader's defined and mature one, her countenance was soft and symmetrical like something out of a painting. Quite like how you'd imagine a Chinese princess would look. It was a sickeningly endearing appearance, in fact, if she put on a dress, she'd look absolutely harmless. Perhaps he could understand her leather boots and jacket after all. Her face, if inspected closely, looks like it's always on the verge of a frown. In fact, if she were to frown or scowl, he speculated there will be some lines to go along with the expression. Only if closely inspected of course. Who else could catch the premature frown lines of the ice beauty I'd not the man who eerily but secretly observes people all the time to get a read. He's familiar with frown lines himself, though he makes sure to get massages professionally to rid himself of them. Without his dashing looks, his job would be a lot more difficult. Right now, he'd say he's clean of them. Not only does Primrose frown a lot, she tends to square her shoulders far too much to the point it looks unnatural and hooligan like. It does not look off putting for some reason but perhaps a straight back and slightly raised nose would look more pleasing and regal. Her muscles tense a lot compared to her leader who didn't like to waste energy unless necessary. Quite alright considering how much stress she must've been feeling. She has quite a lot to learn about herself but she is mighty dangerous in the field. His conclusion which will never be voiced out loud is that she acts like she doesn't care but she cares too much. A troubled soul. As he was semi lost in thoughts, he realized he wasn't quite jumpy anymore. He was still going to make sure everything is alright but he won't mindlessly panic anymore. What kind of idiot would that make him. He convinced himself it's because he has calmed down during the ride but he knew inside that his empathy was overpowering his judgement. He hopes it won't fail him. His understanding of humans will be his downfall someday and he's only glad that right now they're on his side. Beating people down is only satisfying when you feel no compassion, that's why he's always had been nervous and shaky when the next business is conquered. But it's for the greater good. He took a deep breath and wished he could hug Sasha right then and there. But he had children to save and as soon and the information from his I.T department is fully composed he would have to sit about feeling like a kid procrastinating on his homework. He could be helping them but he figured the two mercenaries are treasure chests of information he could utilise as well as good human resources. So they are his priorities. He sighed quietly while drooping his head, later hoping others didn't see. How he would like to lay in bed with his little cougar right now. He wondered if his housekeeper had fed Cleo yet. He sighed once more, this time through his nose. He's getting really hungry. He hoped this restaurant will be adequate at the very least.