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[h2][color=0054a6]Richard Barker[/color][/h2][/center]

Richard let the lit cigarette dangle lously from his lower lip, his tired but focus eyes taking in the lady that now had stepped into his office. If the opened window hadn't given it away, the shimmering dark hair revealed, raindrops casting an unnatural light upon the lady's hair and face. The P.I. moved the cigarette from one side of his lip to the other, watching and listening to her as she took a seat in front of him. [color=0054a6]"No, not even if she wanted to. She's a jealous gal, afraid of dangerous people..."[/color] He commented flatly, whether or not she was the dangerous person was up for intepretation. 

He did not expect her to snag the cigarette out of his mouth. She was elegant on his movements, smooth like a cat balancing a rooftop before jumping on a rat. But instead of claws, this lady had the lips that could kill a man. Richard pulled out another cigarette and lit it in silence, waiting for her to start talking. Finally, she did. 

[color=0054a6]"Mr. Baker? I'm not into pastries, doll. I'm just a guy getting paid to do other people's laundry, if you get what I mean."[/color] Richard responded to her swift, if not empty answer. He stood up from the desk and walked over to a filing cabinet, feeling the lady's eyes penetrate him like daggers as she judged him and his office. Pulling out the filing cabinet drawer, Richard pulled out an half-empty bottle of booze and two glasses, walking back to the desk and putting the glasses down. 

[color=0054a6]"How do you like your drink, ma'dam?"[/color] He asked her, filling one glass and leaving the other for her. [color=0054a6]"So, what do you want from me, ma'dam? If you've asked for a someone in my profession, "[i]for that kind of thing[/i]", clearly there's something specific you want me to do. But on two conditions; First payment, and second your name."[/color]

Something about the young, radiant lady looked familiar to Richard. He'd surely seen her face somewhere in the big city, but where and when he couldn't tell. Too many faces to remember, too many dames one wanted to forget. Richard took a swig of his strong, dry drink and a puff of his cigarette, sitting ontop his desk as he looked down at the woman and her modern look. Rich, probably new money. [color=0054a6]"Do II know you from anywhere, miss..."[/color]