[h3][center][color=gold]𝓛𝓲𝓪𝓶[/color][/center][/h3]

Liam had been having a simple day.

He had woken up, showered, as usual. Put on his makeup slowly, precisely brushing away imperfections as he whistled that tune he had heard the day before. It was some disco thing, he didn't know, it had been caught in his head and no manner of bashing against the wall could dislodge it.

The next few hours were spent at sabre, his one love, though epee still had a grasp on him that was indefinable. A good day at sabre left you breathless at the end of it. A bad day left you clutching at your chest as you coughed up liquids that probably came from somewhere around your ankle. This was a bad day for Liam. Thankfully his face remained unmolested, reapplying his makeup would have been a hassle and a half. He really needed to get on a treadmill sometime soon, his stamina had taken quite a hit from his "off week".

Speaking of fat and lazy, Liam had to deal with corporate manners. He wouldn't have started a legitimate business if he had known about all the nonsense he had to deal with, though the boutique was such an obvious front that it burned him inside to think of ever leaving it as it had been. So he tossed on a lovely blue number with frilled sleeves and high boots, a pair of white gloves and a feathered hat to complete it. He loved tailors, they didn't ask questions when you asked for a pinstripe gambeson with a v-neck for Christmas. Fashion sense? Who needs that when you're rich and you can kill anyone who gives a damn. He queued up a new shelf for some reason and put down a few dollars on the stock market before retiring to his desk to devour strawberry licorice and have some wine. That was about as casual as his day got.

Then he shot a man five times in the spine, dumped his body in the river and had a lovely chat with his wife. He murdered her too because witnesses were against professional code. He would call himself a disgusting pig if he wasn't so damn beautiful. Oh well, more money for the bank account he supposed. Then he went to Avia's territory and left a nasty doodle of himself going bird hunting because to hell with Avia. He supposed that was a bad idea because Avia are really good at the whole "Break all your bones and stuff you in a storm drain" thing, but he had a pawn or two with him so it was okay.

He gave Owen a flower and a few honeyed words as he walked in the hotel, you're supposed to keep relationships purely business in the whole assassin industry, but Owen was just too adorable. Not in the sense that he'd be willing to do anything unseemly with him... no matter how much he wanted to deep down. He'd have to give Angela a call, work out some of his tension... or maybe Phil, he knew how to make you much less tense. His mind shot him an idea about Colette as he continued tensing on his way up the stairs and he immediately shook his head and gave it a few pounds with his hand. Not allowed, not now, not ever, Colette was like his daughter, never mind the small age gap. Never ever never, he felt gross just thinking about it.

When he sat down, he sighed and gave himself a few spins to calm down. He read a few pages of Moby Dick before tossing it away because he didn't like it. Another "classic" that bored him. He had never much liked most of the books he was supposed to like, he loved the Fifty Shades series though, and Twilight. Once white trash always white trash he supposed, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

When the congresswoman walked through the door, he immediately slouched to irritate her, he knew just from looking at her composure and posture that she was fairly stuck up, he loved these kinds of people, especially now that he had a reputation. As he listened to her spiel he rolled his eyes. She was really full of herself wasn't she?

[i]A relationship that shouldn't be passed up? Lady I don't even know who you are![/i] 

Politics weren't Liam's thing, so he only had a vague understanding that she was a hawk, he had heard a radio show or two about her. He noticed Owen standing awkwardly at the door, giving him a goofy grin before turning back to the lady. He needed Owen to stay there in case things went badly. He fingered the knife at his hip, prepared to use it if the time came.

It seemed that she only wished for a contract, some dirty politics or something he assumed, finally assuming proper posture, he rubbed under his nose and rested on his elbows.

[color=aba000]"Owen, close the door for me, darling,"[/color] he said before turning again to the congresswoman.[color=aba000]"The bellhop will stay, before you say anything,"[/color] he continued, a growing seriousness in his voice.

[color=aba000]"I'd be more than happy to consider one as talented and attractive as yourself a client of mine,"[/color] he said, the seriousness gone just as quickly as it had arrived. His flirting would certainly leave her flustered, that was always fun.

[color=aba000]"Before we begin, let me inform you, The Royals do not take payment up front, unlike some other groups in this city. We place a trust in you to hold up your end of the bargain, as we will hold up ours. Ensuring an environment of trust in client and patron is very important to us,"[/color] he said, a smile creeping across his lips. [color=aba000]"So, madame..."[/color]

[color=aba000]"Do you trust me?"[/color]