Her greasy silver strands swished around her cheeks like an annoying fly, gossamer red thread entwined into the hectic locks. No matter how hard she scrubbed with the grey wash cloth, the blood would not come out of her hair. She had long since brushed her face pink and barely noticeable orange stains were left as the only reminder of the spots of blood that once were. Now she was bent over in the freezing cold, almost tearing her hair out in order to clean it before the first impression. It would be no good to get caught right after a job; the cheating man was quite popular in these parts, or so she’s heard.

Sutton Sipley finally gave up, a rare sight indeed, and stood to her full height. Sipley was not that tall, but there was something hard about her features that made her seem bigger than the average person. The silver-haired woman was just glad that she was left alone most of the time. It was cold outside and Sipley didn’t own a cloak, something she would have to invest in later, if she wanted to survive. She once owned one, but it was torn by a target quite skilled with a dagger not that long ago. The woman wished that his death had been more drawn out to compensate, but the past was the past. It was high time to get moving, anyways, and there was no need to dwell.

When she received the letter, Sipley’s first thought was a flat out [i]no[/i]. But with time, she warmed to the idea of stealing from her companions in the middle of the night and slacking slightly while they did the work. Knowing her, Sutton would probably put an effort into it anyways. The meeting point wasn’t so far away, she made sure of that when she took on her last job and had walked the mere hour a while ago. The little town was quiet, peaceful, – Sipley snorted derisively underneath her breath – and all lights were off with the exception of the inn filled with booming laughter. Sipley simply sighed.

The door was pushed open cautiously only after the hard woman had checked extensively around the building to ensure it was not a trap, her job was to kill people after all. She paid no heed to the bartender or the maiden who offered friendly greetings, but instead scanned the room. He wasn’t hard to miss, so she needn’t look as diligently as she did. Stalking closer to him, and his jolly companion, Sipley crossed her arms and leaned onto one foot.

“The name’s Sipley. Are you the oaf I am supposed to be seeing about the letter?”