#Threads: TeethSharpAndShe'sReadyToGo

[visage-of-hell]

(Starter for @angie-long-legs: Another night at the club, another menagerie of party-seeking demons filling all available spaces to enjoy drinks, dancing and pulsing beats. As much as possible, Visage always preferred to just blend into the crowd, rather than be this large imposing figure that drew immediate attention to herself. She dressed in much the same casual flair as any other clubgoer as she relaxed on one of the plush lounge cushions richly upholstered in deep royal purple velvet. Clutched between two claws was a lit cigarette smoldering with bright blue embers, smoke tendrils lazily drifting around the hellhound in an acrid wreath. Keen silver eyes seemed to have a glow all their own, even amid the glowing neon that filled the club space, as her gaze roved over the crowd of patrons. It was, after all, her business to keep tabs on who was coming and going from her establishment, despite the air of nonchalance she so carefully cultivated. The larger and more successful Kingdom Cum became, the more she knew that she was drawing the attention of those who would quickly begin to consider her a threat. Good. About time something came along to shake up the status quo. These other Overlords had gotten too fat and lazy of their own spoils and were in sore need of some healthy competition. For the present moment, though, the power plays and political posturing were about as far away from Visage's mind as possible, focused instead on having as mellow of an evening as possible. Well ... 'mellow' by the standards of the club, of course. Which is why when her phone began to buzz and she glanced at the name to recognize the call as coming from her chief cartel enforcer ... her mood immediately began to sour. "What?" The word was spat out, laced heavily with annoyance. "Uhhhh, Boss? I just saw Angel Dust walk into the club." Aaaaand foul mood immediately gone. Now this could be interesting. A famous face like his in her club was bound to draw attention of all kinds, but that hardly worried the Overlord. What intrigued her more was the knowledge that one of Valentino's most prominent actors was in her domain instead of his ... and she liked what that could mean. While she could do nothing about the soul contracts themselves without more direct intervention, any opportunity to encourage those under his 'employment' to distance themselves as much as possible was a net positive from her perspective. "Interesting. Send 'em my way."

[visage-of-hell]

Sitting in a room full of her "peers", the hellhound couldn't help but still feel like a minnow among sharks. After all, it had only been a month or two since she was the one being introduced by Camilla and in all that time, this sudden rise to power still didn't fit quite right. Like a shirt several sizes too large. Maybe someday she would grow into the role.

Until then, someone else was the newcomer that day and Visage couldn't mask her keen interest as she sized him up. He certainly wasn't lacking in presence, charm, or intimidation ... and someone like that would make for a very beneficial ally, as she broke into the club business.

She would sit through the entirety of Miss Carmine's presentation respectfully, though, biding her time for a natural-feeling moment to strike up a conversation.

OPEN STARTER: Theme - Overlord AU

If anyone had asked his opinion, he would probably have laughed in their face at the thought of being an Overlord. Since getting to Hell, it hadn't ever been something he had really considered. It felt like it came with too much responsibility, too much effort. Boring ass meetings, having some sort of ruling over the sinners that be simply because they were in a place of power. If anything, it sounded more like something his dad would want.

Anthony had never really been one to give two shits about the mafia. He had been forced into the family business, and while he had become incredibly skilled at what he did with a gun, it hadn't ever been his full-time dream. Hollywood, however, certainly didn't exist in Hell. Dreams were more like nightmares, and Anthony had figured out the thing that mattered most down here - survival.

So yeah, it hadn't been expected, but it had been rather easy. He knew how to have a proper interrogation, knew how to torture someone until they were whimpering for their lives, giving the information that he wanted to hear. The same thing worked for souls. Anthony had no issue using elements of torture in order to get contracts, although he also knew how to sweet talk. Use his New York accent, his pretty face, and get people to believe him enough to give him information. To trust him.

He had made his way to Overlord status fairly quickly, though it still caught him off guard to hear Carmilla Carmine refer to him as the Mafia Overlord. Doors swinging open as if some sort of grand reveal - it would probably be as close to the red carpet as he would ever get. Pin striped suit like he had worn in life, only catered to show off more of his Hell-form, swell of his chest fluff visible from the cut. Shades of pinks and purples to make him stand out more, one of his Tommys just casually slung over his shoulder.

"Yeh' can really just call me Anthony." Accent thick, as he took a seat at the table of Overlords, leaning back slightly and popping the bubble of gum he was chewing with his sharp teeth, magenta eyes shining as he joined the meeting.

[visage-of-hell]

(Starter for @sirserpentine: Another busy night at Kingdom Cum, as was often the case on the weekends. Thankfully, all of her staff were bringing their A-game that night and for the most part, all she had to do was supervise from a distance and socialize with any of the bigger movers and shakers that decided to make token appearances. Aside from a weapons shipment scheduled for sometime later into the evening, it was shaping up to be a fairly uneventful shift. Or so the Overlord thought. From her usual spot on her favorite lounge cushion near the bar, the lupine was entertaining herself blowing smoke rings while watching Lyra's newest pole dance routine on stage. As usual, she was nailing it. She couldn't keep a proud smile from creasing her muzzle as she murmured under her breath, "That's my girl." "Boss?" A new voice came from just to her right, her ear swiveling towards it before she turned to regard the individual with a vaguely annoyed expression. If they were referring to her as 'Boss', she already knew who they were and their presence irked her when it wasn't specifically requested. "...What...?" The agitation in her tone was readily apparent. Unphased by his employer's cadence, the hellhound mercenary motioned with a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the club's front entrance. "Someone's askin' for you. Some kinda snake guy? Says he knows you." For a few seconds, Visage's mind scanned through the various names and faces she had met as of late that might match that description, before it finally dawned on her. The patron from the hotel. She snapped her fingers in recognition, her mood doing an immediate 180-degree turn. "Riiiiiiight! That guy! Yeah, sure, send 'em my way." She couldn't even begin to imagine what an eccentric fellow like him would want with a place like this, but far be it for her to judge. He was owed his R & R just the same as anyone else, after all.

[visage-of-hell]

(Continued from here: Without even missing a beat, the hellhound arched a brow as she produced a deck of playing cards. "Whaaat, y'never played strip poker before? Scared you'll lose, Your Highness...?" She knows damn well that isn't how you initiate that sort of game, but the bewildered expression her initial 'proposal' got from him was well worth it. @hells-greatestdad

[visage-of-hell]

(Continued from here:

For days she had been letting the aftermath of her ill-fated 'mission' fester in her gut. It had been reckless and stupid of her to ever accept that damned party invitation from a conniving wretch like Valentino ... but her hubris had been her downfall. So assured of her innate advantages as a hellborn ... and the more powerful Overlord she had aligned herself with. It had made her overconfident. Stupid. And now she had paid the price for it. What's more, she had put those who she cared most about in extreme danger and compromised the security of all she had built thus far. Where would she even begin admitting that kind of failure to her 'partner'...? Yet she would have to eventually, she knew ... for the longer she concealed the existence of the contract she had been tricked into signing, the more strained their 'working relationship' would become. And so her patience for Alastor's antics was even less than usual, which is what had put them at odds with one another that particular night. It was as though the hellhound were made entirely of dry kindling and the Radio Demon's every word were stray sparks coming ever closer to sending her into an out-of-control blaze. And then his crimson talons snatched her by the snout and dragged her in close. The spark was ignited--she could feel the white-hot rage rising from the pit of her stomach, seconds from erupting into a fiery outburst ... until the feeling of his lips pressing against the end of her nose gave her immediate pause. It was as though all of her rage had been snuffed out in one confusing act that left her too dumbfounded to maintain that same level of anger. Though the tone and intent behind the antagonizing act couldn't have been more different, flickers of depraved memories shot through the hound's mind like flashes of lightning illuminating the dark. Valentino's mouth on hers ... bodies pressed ... the rake of his gold-tipped claws through her fur ... the feeling of him as he... She physically flinched in revulsion as she forced herself to stop thinking about it--about how she had reveled in the filth of it all. And given the context of what had just happened, it was thankfully easy to misinterpret her recoiling as a reaction to Alastor's kiss instead of the truth. Her words came as a low growl, each syllable forced out through clenched teeth. "After the week I've had, Smiles ... the last thing I need is more of your shit, alright? So ask me for whatever the fuck it is you came to ask for and get it over with. This is when the other fuckin' shoe drops, right? Where I start to regret ever agreeing to this lil' 'business partnership' in the first place...?"

[visage-of-hell]

(For @sanguineradio because I have ZERO impulse control. XD To say that it had been a bit of an awkward week was ... well, it was quite the understatement. Inwardly, Visage was still kicking herself for having dropped so much onto Alastor's shoulders. God, what had she been thinking, to just open the floodgates like that?! And yet, even still, he had decided to remain at her side. She didn't feel deserving of it in the slightest. And so she had thrown herself headlong into the day-to-day of working her club, reasoning that the busier she kept herself the less time and energy she would have to mentally keep berating herself. It was a foolproof plan, really. Determined to get a new routine show-ready by the end of that week, the she-wolf was putting in time that she would normally keep to herself to instead join the girls in the dance studio to help them practice. It was easier than being alone with her thoughts and she sincerely enjoyed their company. Relaxing nearby was the cherub bartender, Insidia, providing assistance with stopping and starting the music in between takes. All five were assembled in gym attire mostly consisting of sports bras and yoga pants--no dress rehearsal quite yet. Clapping her hands, the hellhound began to rally the girls from their short break. "Alright, ladies, once more from the top before we call it a night. Let's go!" With a point from Visage, Insidia hit play on the stereo as all dancers--the Overlord included--assumed their positions in formation. When she was honest with herself, Visage knew there was another reason throwing herself into the practice routines personally was such a welcomed diversion. Dancing made her come alive. It was a cathartic release of energy and emotions that only rivaled the thrill of combat and more 'intimate' engagements. And tonight ... she was putting everything she had into it, with all the fervor of a live performance. As if each dip of the back and roll of the hips were a lifeline she was hanging onto with both hands. She didn't even notice that in the midst of the routine, she had an unexpected visitor...

[visage-of-hell]

(Starter for @sanguineradio: It had been a busy night so far, and as much as Vizzy enjoyed being at the heart of all the action on nights like these--especially to ensure she was present and mingling with any esteemed guests she wanted to make valuable connections with--about four hours in, she was just too damned tired. And ... maybe she had indulged in one drink too many. Just maybe. Having long since changed out of her formal attire and into something more comfortable (a loose t-shirt cut off at the midriff and yoga pants in this case), Visage lounged on the bed doom-scrolling through her phone as she waited for the coffee she had just put on to be ready. Tired as she was, it was still far too early to turn in for the night. And besides--the caffeine would help take off the edge of her slight over-indulgence. A text message cut through her scrolling and with a raised brow, she went to it to see who it was from. [Charlie]: Just got to Heaven, wish us luck! <3 A small chuckle passed her as a smile creased her muzzle. So Papa Morningstar agreed to it after all. That couldn't have been easy. She nodded to herself in approval as she quickly typed back. [Vizzy]: You got this, Princess! You're gonna do great. :3 As much as she wanted to be a source of encouragement in what was likely a moment that was as terrifying as it was exciting, the hellhound still couldn't help but worry. After hearing about how poorly the meeting with the Exorcists had gone ... well ... it was hard to be too optimistic. But if anyone could get through to them, she reasoned, it was Princess Morningstar. Her ears shot up with a flinch and a familiar pattern of knocks came at her back door, prompting her to practically jump up from the bed. "C-Comin'!" Her Radio Demon companion had been a bit of a stranger as of late and despite her exhaustion, she was all too eager to let him in. She just hoped that this was a friendly visit and that all nothing had gone wrong. Especially with the way things were as of late ... it really could go either way. In any case, she quickly reached the door, unlocking it before opening it up just enough peek outside to make sure it really was him and not someone else.

[visage-of-hell]

(Continued from here: It had been a slow night at the club, and so Visage had taken off for a short while to run a few errands at a twenty-four hour quickie mart around the block. Seeing as how her private office doubled as her own miniature apartment, this was the closest thing to doing a 'grocery run' the Overlord ever did. It was ... far from a glamorous haul--cans of hound chow, a few boxes of hound biscuits and a small-sized bag of hound kibble. The poorest of poor cuisine that served as the main source of nutrition for only the most destitute of the hellhound population, and yet ... for Visage, this amounted to comfort food. Not that she was proud of that fact. A shameful little secret she kept, in truth. But she didn't cook and she wasn't in any mood to go out to eat, so ... it would suffice. She was then on her way back in the general direction of the club when an alarming scent prickled at her nose--fresh demon blood. Already the fur along the nape of her neck began to bristle slightly, unsure just who or what was bleeding nearby. A victim in need or a predator lying in wait? Difficult to say... And so, clutching her bags close, she cautiously followed the scent trail, until--much to her surprise--she glimpsed a familiar silhouette just slightly off in the distance, a small puddle of dark crimson forming beneath them. Though perhaps it shouldn't have, her tension eased as she moved to approach. "Smiles...? That you...?" @radioiaci

[visage-of-hell]

Starter for @radioiaci: The night had scarcely begun, and already Visage was up to her neck in bullshit. Word had gotten back to her from Carmilla that Voxtek surveillance cameras had been discovered throughout her facility during the meeting with the other Overlords days prior. While none had been found within hearing range of Miss Carmine's private office, an adjacent hallway had been found with a camera angled towards the office door--enough to know who was coming and going from there. As one such 'visitor' to her office recently, it was far from an unreasonable assumption that at the very least, she was now a person of interest to the Vee's. Not a favorable position to find herself in, as a newly-established Overlord. Leaving nothing to chance, she already had her boys in the process of searching the entire club top to bottom, on the off chance that she had received similar treatment. She sat upon one of the lounge cushions at the far end of the main club lobby, trying to keep up the appearance that nothing was amiss. Business as usual ... and business was good. After all, the club was already crowded less than an hour after opening, drinks flowed freely, and her girls were putting on stellar performances on stage. What could be better than that? Quite a lot, in truth--such as not having a bullseye painted on her back less than a week into her new role. But as that was no longer a luxury she had, all she could do was play the game with as stout of a poker face as she could manage. Her time as a bounty hunter had taught her long ago that those that acted like prey were treated like it. Though the stage she stood upon had changed, the performance expected of her had not. An agitated sigh escaped her as she took a sip of her drink, noticing one of her hellhound mercenaries already returning. "I know for a fact you ain't finished scoping this place out yet. Get your ass back out--" "The Radio Demon is here, Boss..." The sudden interruption of her subordinate would normally be answered with swift anger, but given the nature of his words and the tone of urgency with which they were given ... no such correction would be forthcoming this time. Visage's silver eyes went wide for the briefest of moments, a surge of ice running through her veins. Even a newcomer on the scene like her knew the fearsome reputation of Alastor. Indeed, she had already had the dubious 'pleasure' of meeting him in person mere days before at Carmilla's estate. While they hadn't spoken directly, the piercing intensity of his stares had unnerved her greatly. And now he was here, on top of everything else she already had going on? Great ... just great. Swiftly composing herself, her clawed fingers pitched the bridge of her snout with a long slow exhale. ".....Right. Send him my way and then make yourself scarce. You still got work to do."

[visage-of-hell]

(Continued with @mothvalentino from here: Loathe as she was to admit it, Visage was beginning to enjoy having the moth in her club. At first, it was the catharsis of the tables turning--of the oppressor becoming the oppressed, the demon who had been a direct threat to her livelihood now working under her employ. Sweet poetic *justice*. And yet ... with time, something was shifting. Maybe it was noticing the way he carried himself so differently. Maybe it was that all the things she despised about him the most were no longer in play. Or maybe she was beginning to see more of the *man* behind the *moth*. Whatever it was ... it was endearing her towards him in ways she hadn't anticipated. *He's just convenient,* was what she told herself the first time she came for him after a performance. Why go looking for easy lays to serve as a distraction from somewhere else when something familiar and comfortable was already *right* here...? She could have her toy and play with it, too. That's what she wanted to believe, at least. It was easier than confronting the truth. Silver eyes glimmering with wordless want watched Valentino's performance with a keen predatory focus that lingered even as he stepped off the stage. He wouldn't get very far before her taloned hands were on him, pulling him down until her lupine lips pressed hard and hungry against his own. She couldn't have given less of a *damn* who saw, she needed him all to herself. With a low growling moan muffled against his mouth, one of her hands slid further south to caress across his thigh.

[visage-of-hell]

(Starter for @vassalagevenison: -- "We got a potential incident with one of the girls, Boss." The familiar grating voice that came in through her earpiece was quick to sour whatever good mood the lupine Overlord had left by that point in the night. It had been a non-stop barrage of proverbial fires that needed putting out and up until that moment, she had been ready to settle down on her favorite lounge seat with a stiff drink. Fate, it seemed, had other plans. With a hard nasal sigh, she set her glass back down upon the low table before pressing her earpiece. "Of course there is. The fuck's going on now?" "Don't have details, but Lyra is asking for you in her dressing room. She sounded pretty shaken up." That tidbit of info changed everything. Irritation at being disturbed quickly shifted into protective anger. Whoever it was causing issues for one of her performers had chosen the wrong night to fuck around and find out. Her jaw tightened and she stood and started swiftly making her way to the back door behind the bar. "On my way, stay on standby til I talk to 'er." -- "He's been eying me all night! But in, like ... a really creepy way. Not like the usual pervs. He tried cornering me after my last set, so I had to hide out in here 'til I was sure he was gone. I didn't see him when I looked outside, but..." The Baphomet dancer brought her cigarette to her muzzle with a trembling hand, still clearly rattled by her encounter. She looked up at her hellhound employer almost sheepishly. "There's something really fuckin' wrong with that dude, Viz. Like he wants the kinda shit no amount of money is gonna buy. I don't spook easy, but that freak really got to me." Visage was pacing, now, though less out of anger (now that she knew her employee was safe) and more pensively. This was an unexpected development. Someone so depraved and predatory that he could make even her girls recoil in fear...? Very interesting, indeed. Despite herself, her mind was wandering. Fuck, how long had it been since she'd found a proper lay? Sure, she had her 'regulars' that she often hit up when she had an itch that needed scratching, but it had long since grown stale and they just couldn't excite her the same way anymore. She needed something new ... and this smelled like a prime opportunity to work off some much needed tension. Turning her distracted gaze back to the Baphomet, a reassuring smile found its way across Visage's muzzle. "I got this, Ly, you just chill here 'til it's time for your next set. I'll have this fella dealt with in no time." In an instant, she was out the door and back out onto the main club floor, keen silver gaze scouring the rear of the crowds for anyone fitting the description Lyra gave her--weirdly classy-looking sort wearing blue. That shouldn't be too hard, right?

[visage-of-hell]

Starter for @dangert1ts: With the last of her establishment's patrons settling their tabs for the night and departing, Visage could finally shake loose the heavy facade of the cool confident club owner and sink back into herself for the remainder of the evening. Tomorrow, she would have to don that mask anew, but for now? This was her night, to do with as she pleased. Bidding her girls goodnight, she left her staff to finish closing up before exchanging her suave formal wear for the grungy street leathers to which she was more accustomed. As she slipped out from the back alley exit of the club, the lupine woman slowly made her way down the street. Few would feel safe walking around freely in such a seedy part of the Pentagram, but her 'privileged' position had only emboldened her since her rise to power. Let anyone try and start some shit--it would make her night. It wasn't good for business to drink where she worked, especially after closing, so she got it into her mind that it was high time to find herself a watering hole that didn't close and cut loose for awhile. Or, at least ... that was the plan. But the brief wafting of an all-too-familiar scent caressed her nose as she passed a stranger along the sidewalk, forcing her to halt dead in her tracks. "No fuckin' way..." The words were muttered between clenched teeth in a voice scarcely above a whisper, becoming buried in a low deep growl that rumbled in her narrow chest. There was no mistaking it. She had committed the scent of that woman to memory from the very moment of their ill-fated 'meeting' ... and her nose had never been wrong before. Her previous plans now abandoned, she made up her mind to trail this suspicious 'stranger' so she could confirm or deny her growing suspicions. For the moment, she kept a cautious distance so as not to rouse the other's attention. Though her time as a bounty hunter was over, the skills required for that line of work were as keen as ever. She'd played this game before.

[visage-of-hell]

(Starter for @voxuli: The hellhound made her way into the main lobby of the Vee Tower, her posture tense as she remained on edge. If he knew she was doing this, Alastor would want to kill her (metaphorically speaking). Regardless ... she couldn't help but sense an opportunity and she was compelled to seize it. If one of the Vees was so eager to make contact with her, then surely there was some way to twist this to her advantage. Granted, Vox's close proximity to her main rival made the matter more complex, but ... she wasn't without options. She just had to determine what he wanted and how she could turn that motivation against him. Keeping tabs on her surroundings from the corner of her eye, Visage approached the front desk with an air of forced confidence and stared down the receptionist with a steady even gaze. "I'm here on invitation from Vox."

[visage-of-hell]

(An irresponsible starter for @double-jango because apparently Vizzy is allergic to staying alive. LOL -- When the terror of potentially losing Blitz had worn off in the days to follow, no amount of relief and time spent in her lover's company could blunt the wrath of sheer indignation at the higher authority that had come so perilously close to ripping away from her the most genuine son of a bitch she had ever come to know. Ah, but it went well beyond that, didn't it? When she really stewed in her feeling and thought about it. This wasn't just a slight against her and Blitz--this was personal against ALL of the 'lesser' hellborn. The callous ease with which he could condemn their kind, with the same gravity as one tossing a piece of trash into a bin...? It rankled her in ways she hadn't even known she could be. And so it was that she now found herself standing at the imposing gates of a massive foreboding castle whose heraldry made its owner abundantly clear. Satan ... the mighty draconic personification of Wrath incarnate. And here she was ... pounding her fist against the palisade like an angry neighbor might go knocking on another's door over a minor spat. "This is me asking for an audience, asshole! Open the fuck up!"

[visage-of-hell]

"Oh, fuck me..." The words were muttered low enough to pass for an incoherent grumble of displeasure as the TV Demon made his approach. Of all the demons in Hell to run into that night ... she just couldn't catch a damned break. The hellhound knew better than to bleed in shark-infested waters, though ... and masking came to Visage as instinctively as breathing. Stuff it all down, put on a good performance. In an instant, the slump in her posture straightened and a sharp-toothed aggressive 'smile' creased her muzzle to replace the brooding scowl that had occupied her face mere moments before. "We all got out metaphorical crosses t'bear, Vox. Some made of wood, others made of shit. Y'know how it is." Visage kept it vague and superficially philosophical, for the moment. Something that sounded like a valid response without offering up anything of actual substance for her 'rival' glean meaning from. The fine art of saying nothing and everything all at once. Would it stick? Hard to say. And so she endeavored to pivot the topic of conversation away from herself, just as an added layer of protection. Better that way, keeping the focus off herself. Nonchalantly tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette, Visage eyed the other Overlord up and down thoughtfully. "And what brings you down this way at this time of night, mm? Y'seem to be a bit out of your element."

continued from here with @visage-of-hell!

--

Of course, such a spectacle wasn't about to escape the notice of the Overlord of Surveillance. Vox found it prudent to keep tabs on the other power-wielders in the city, to varying degrees. Visage held a rather uncommon status in that list of people, being considered a medium priority for surveillance due to the probable threat she could pose. At the same time, Vox had found it an interesting challenge to try and get cameras anywhere inside her turf, especially at either the club or her apartment.

Naturally this just meant he'd had every street outside fitted with CCTV if it didn't have it already, and added Visage to the training data for a recognition model.

Tonight it had paid off, with an alert turning his attention to the CCTV monitors. Even without sound, her mood is clearly evident in her posture and movement. Vox taps his claws along the desk as he watches her drift from screen to screen, contemplating whether or not interfering might be worth it--and if so, to what degree.

It's not until well after she stops for a smoke that Vox makes up his mind. The night is slow, and he thinks his lone presence will probably be better received than anything else bearing the VoxTek name.

He jumps into the grid, producing a barely-noticable flicker as breakers trip and reclose in nanoseconds to ensure he reaches the correct destination. Vox surges into the wires of a camera a little ways down the street to emerge almost instantaneously, just on the peripherals of Visage's view.

"It's not often I get the pleasure of seeing you on this side of town, my dear," Vox says, putting his hands in his pockets as he approaches. "Though I wish it was under better circumstances! You seem rather out of sorts. No trouble in paradise, I hope?"

[visage-of-hell]

(Starter for @poisonedspider: Weekdays were often slow, and in this particular instance, it worked to Visage's advantage. Tonight was to be a test of thing unique and until she knew with any amount of certainty how things would pan out, a quieter and less-crowded club was preferable. With a pensive expression, she picked up her phone from where it rested upon the low table in front of her to check the time. Nearly 9 o'clock--good. He should be there any moment. Despite her fairly stoic and thoughtful appearance, her stomach was doing all sorts of flips in that moment. It had been nothing short of nauseating to do any sort of business exchange with a vile creature like Valentino--even more-so when she had to play the role of someone depraved enough to "rent" another person--but in her mind, it was a necessary evil. All she wanted was to give a reprieve. Not the expectation of betterment and the tackling of deep emotional issues at the Hotel, but something lighter. Fun without strings attached. The illusion of freedom, no matter how brief. With a soft sigh, she reached for her drink and took a long slow sip. At that exact moment, a voice came in through the earpiece that she wore. "He's here, Boss." It was go time. Nodding to herself slowly, she swirled the pale blue liquid in her glass. "Send 'em my way, then. And don't be crass about it. He's a fuckin' guest, not a prisoner. Show 'em some proper respect."