Maria was the happiest that she'd been ever since her dimwit father had her arrested. A little [i]persuasion[/i] (the skin-to-skin kind) had her a gorgeous black evening gown, an expensive pearl necklace with matching earrings, a tube of blood-red lipstick, and a pair of black satin gloves. And, finally-a mission where she [i]knew[/i] what she was doing. This was familiar territory for Maria (though it was not so for the others), and even if she was doing this at the behest of the damn government, Maria would take this over "running" up and down Currahee any day. She was even allowed to curl her hair!

Maria relished the time she was given to prepare for the mission. She pretended that she was preparing for a night out in Chicago, on a mission to gather information for her [i]own[/i] purposes. Her normally stick-straight hair was curled in the latest fashions from Hollywood (for despite the war, [i]fashion[/i] still lived on), and her [url=https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/dd/93/60/dd936061c8b9571afd3c9daaa945a659.jpg]dress[/url] was all refined, old-age elegance-a welcome change from her usual glamorous seductress look, Maria found. The black gown did wonders for her figure, emphasizing her long, graceful limbs, and the long sleeves and skirt hid the angular boniness of her elbows and knees, which was another plus. The low neckline was perfect for showing off the shiny new strands of pearls that she'd acquired.

Thick, smoky eyeshadow and an equally thick layer of red lipstick, mascara sharp enough to cut someone, heels so high that they could kill, pearls dangling from her ears and around her slender neck, a pair of tiny daggers tucked into the bodice of the gown and a small, military-issued hand gun strapped to her thigh under the long skirt-Maria was ready. She only hoped that she wouldn't have to be more [i]intimate[/I] with someone that night; her daggers and the gun were so placed under the assumption that extreme intimacy would not be required. [i]Though, with Anton by my side the entire night, it should be fine,[/i] Maria mused as she slipped on the satin gloves. They could easily be taken off at a moment's notice, just in case she needed to [i]persuade[/i] someone. 

Maria would be posing as Ms. Adaline Veringworth, a wealthy widow with a Spanish mother and an English father who had married an extremely rich but extremely secluded Englishman. Her cover story was that she had come from Europe to America to seek refuge from the war, bringing a French officer along as her escort (to "protect" her and represent the French delegation to the US, or so Maria was told). Anton seemed agreeable enough, as far as Maria was concerned. But were his acting skills up to snuff? It took practice to don a new persona as easily as one would don an evening gown, Maria knew, and she was willing to bet good money that the majority of the team had almost no experience doing this kind of work-Anton himself included. 

Maria sighed. It was too late to dwell on that now. She supposed she would have to deal with any slip-ups as they came. 

Maria closed her eyes, drew in a breath, and channeled Ms. Adeline Veringworth. Adaline was charming and charismatic, agreeable and polite. She had all the imposing elegance and impeccable manners of a proper British lady, but she had a touch of her own scintillating wit. She was rich and powerful, and well aware of her own wealth and power, yet she carried herself with enough poise and timeless grace that people couldn't help but respect her.

Maria opened her eyes. She glided out into the main area of the apartment, her warm brown eyes alighting on Colonel Philipe Artoue, 68th Infantry Division of the 1st Free French Army (more commonly known as Anton G'iscard), and gave him a composed smile. Maria made her way over to him, the cold aloofness that was present in her eyes when she was in Camp Toccoa completely gone. In its place was deep solemnity with a mischievous hint of mirth.

"I'm ready if you are, Colonel," said Maria as Adaline. She tilted her head slightly, surveying him with obvious interest. Anton had donned the uniform of a French officer for the occasion, and Maria let a small half-smile grace her lips. "I must say, my dear Colonel, that uniform suits you very well."