STATUS:
Or, just maybe, stop posting in every damn IC you can find to ask people to join your “League of Legends Noxus RP.” It’s annoying, and forces GMs to go out of their way to get it deleted. Etiquette.
1 mo ago
Current
Or, just maybe, stop posting in every damn IC you can find to ask people to join your “League of Legends Noxus RP.” It’s annoying, and forces GMs to go out of their way to get it deleted. Etiquette.
9
likes
3 yrs ago
tbh a death threat was not on my 2023 bingo
1
like
3 yrs ago
man if you’re just gonna fucking admit it what’s the point. go touch grass. don’t kill your roommate.
Jamie followed Blake into the reception area, coming in behind him in a similar, flashy style. When he kicked the door in, her fists were raised, goggles up. She did a crane kick at nothing, before realizing that they were just in some sort of seating area. There weren't hi-tech holograms or complex machines- there were chairs and a receptionist's desk, bland paintings hanging on the wall. Jamie frowned, disappointed. This wasn't Rumi's fancy lab. She had been expecting the Batcave, and instead, she got her dentist's waiting room. When she saw this, she sighed, slumping, her fierce fighting demeanor gone. She barely noticed Chris's approach, only looking at the man through the side of her eye. He looked boring. He called them 'Ms' and 'Mr', like a boring proper person. Why couldn't they just give the collar to Rumi and go smash... whatever needed smashing? Why did there have to be so many steps? This was boring her already.
While walking through the hallway after Chris and Blake, Jamie played with her hair. It was tied up in a neat ponytail, but branches and leaves from the forest stuck to it stubbornly. She picked at those, yanking them from her hair and dropping them to the ground without a care for the cleanliness of Rumi's office. As a result, various foliage now littered the once immaculate hallway. As well as multiple clumps of blond hair, too- those things had hurt like a bitch to pull out, and some of her hair had been ripped out. She rubbed at her scalp, wincing as they entered what looked like an office. A normal office. Jamie had to hold back a groan. This was still not the Batcave! Books were smart, yes, but...
Holy shit. Jamie's jaw dropped as the floor opened up. Now, this was more like what she had been expecting. She hopped to the side, out of the way of the moving floor as it revealed a staircase. Her attention grabbed by its throat, she followed Chris down the staircase, awestruck. This place was definitely the Batcave! There were machines, parts strewn about, projects sitting on the worktables. She poked and examined several things, not really understanding anything but still excited. Seeing Rumi, she waved enthusiastically and drifted closer to him.
"Hiiii, Rumi! Wow, your lab is so cool- it's like the freaking Batcave in here! Ooh, can I touch?" Jamie reached out her hand and shoved it in the hologram without waiting for an answer. She twisted around, trying to move the thing as he had just done, but not really getting the handle of it. Her hand moved the hologram like nothing was there. "That's hard. How do you even do that?"
Startling as Martino yelled and the cheering started, Patricia jumped in her seat, hands flying to her purse. However, she quickly placed them back onto the table and twisted around in her seat to face him. Jesus, that guy is loud, she thought, internally wincing as he bragged about his pitiful winnings. Although she had close to zero experience in poker, 17 dollars seemed like a low and oddly specific amount to win in a game. Wouldn't buy him anything great, that was for sure, but the people here seemed to be excited by that. They applauded him as though he had just won a million dollars, getting off their seats and cheering as he walked out. Or they were just cheering because he was powerful. That seemed to be a bit more likely. Wanting to seem like one of his adoring fans, Patricia clapped, too, smiling and waving.
She saw him make a beeline for her but was definitely not prepared when he swept her off her feet- literally. He yanked her off the bar seat roughly, snaking his arm around her waist and going a little too low for her liking. She had to suppress a shudder, instead grinning up at his sleazy, fat face and winking. This was a guy she wouldn't mind locking up in Coldwater for the rest of time, that was for sure. She locked eyes with Angie as he looked her over, too. Apparently, she hadn't needed an introduction, because within seconds Angelica was on his other side, and they were heading outside to his car.
Patricia stepped into the car reluctantly, every cautious bone in her body screaming for her to run. This went against literally every piece of advice her mother had ever told her, as she was currently getting into a car with a sleazy older man at a sleazy bar. But she did it anyways, plopping herself down onto the seat next to Angie. The car ride there was silent, peppered only with the occasional flirtatious remark from Martino and Angelica trying (and sort of succeeding) to act motherly. Patricia took deep, silent breaths, clenching and unclenching her fists.
She nodded to Angelica's comment before turning to look out the window at the mansion. It was impressive, to say the least. Opulent and humongous, guarded carefully. Nobody had ever been able to take the Guglianos down and their compound certainly showed it. At a glance, Patricia could see that armed goons patrolled the verdant grounds. As their car entered the gate, she closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath and leaning against the seat. You can do this, Patricia.
She exited the car after Angelica, draping herself over his other arm. She half-pretended to be in awe, her mouth opening and eyes widening. "Woh. You do well for yourself, don'tcha?" She giggled and nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears, and followed him inside.
I was thinking more of a Tempest Cleric than anything- someone that pirates would hire to ensure safe passage across the sea. And someone that had offensive capabilities as well. Does that work?
Jamie was ecstatic her gambit with the tree had worked. It showed in her stance. To be honest, she hadn't really thought it would work. Before, she had been worried that she might accidentally crush Felix under the tree. But it had worked, and the Igaunosaur, while not dead yet, was about to be. She bounced in place just a little, grinning, as the Igaunosaur squirmed around under the oak. She had a big, genuine smile on her face, despite the pained-looking dino struggling in front of her. Yes! I saved the day. She almost felt like fist-pumping but didn't, because that would be bragging, and bragging was not nice. And, even if Jamie was a winner and probably deserved to brag, she was always nice. She would just have to gloat later. By herself. For now, she had a job to finish. She took a step toward the Igaunosaur, about to lay a hand on its neck and kill it once and for all when Blake yelled so loudly and so suddenly that it startled her.
Jamie blinked and took a step back from the Leftover, but quickly stepped forward again when she was what he was doing. She squatted down and leaned over Blake, gawking at the collar.
"Woh, that's so cool..." Jamie said, mouth open in awe.
With a curious look on her face, she poked at it. She had definitely seen something like this before- on Blake's neck, of course, never her own. Although that had been threatened many, many times. What it was doing on the Iguanosaur, though... she had no idea. She sounded out the word in her mouth silently. GUGL. It sounded like... Google? What would Google need an Igaunosaur for? Maybe it was their pet! Jamie thought about it for a few moments, the scene playing out in her head. That sounded fun. She wanted a pet Igaunosaur!
Jamie frowned, almost protesting, but decided against it. This Igaunosaur was probably too injured to keep as a pet, anyways... With a blast of her power to its neck, it died in an instant. Then, she stood up, brushing off her leggings. Leaving behind the body of the Igaunosaur, she hopped back over to Blake, peering over his shoulder as he looked at the collar. She might've been breathing a little too heavily in his face, but his discomfort was worth it to get a closer look at the collar. She poked it again, half-expecting it to blow up, but nothing happened.
"Why... ooh, Rumi! Hiiii!" Jamie grinned and waved at the phone as soon as Rumi came on the line. Then, seeing as he and Blake were having a conversation that she barely got the gist of, she followed Blake to her car.
She stepped into the driver's seat getting her keys out of her purse and turning them in the ignition. This would be interesting- she wasn't quite sure where they were going or what they were doing, but it would certainly be interesting. More fun than watching season 3 of Glee for the tenth time, anyways.
"Let's go then!" Putting a foot on the gas pedal, Jamie drove off in the direction that she was pretty sure Rumi's lab was in.
Patricia smiled gratefully at Angelica before taking another sip of her virgin Appletini. The other, older girl had much more experience with this type of thing than she did, that was for sure. That Martino guy seemed like he might get a little handsy, and that was not something she wanted to face alone. Or at all. She probably could've just hypnotized him into falling asleep- but that seemed like a bad idea if this was going to be something that would last for more than 8 hours. It was a good plan, and probably would work better than the poker thing, but it didn't mean that Patricia had to like it much.
Grace's sudden intervention made Patricia jump in her seat a little. She nearly interrupted her little speech several times but decided to wait for Brie. It was her mission and her choice, but she couldn't help but internally face-palm just a bit when she told Grace yes. She shot the violet-haired woman a little glare. Grace could be useful, yes. Her powers definitely sounded like they would help, and she made a good case. She even liked Grace from their one encounter, but... if this was as secretive as Brie said it should be, a newcomer shouldn't have been involved. Especially one so linked to ICOSA. Still, she didn't speak up, leaning back in her seat and raising her brow at Brie. At least she had drained her phone of battery. Smart. So she couldn't call or text anyone, probably. They would need to give her a burner and an alias, too.
Patricia took a 10-dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it to Grace. "Here," she said, still not smiling. "You'll need to come up with a fake name that they can't look up or anything. Just, like, make it believable, okay?"
She then turned to Angelica, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Thanks, by the way," Patricia told her, smiling with relief. "Your call if you wanna use your power yet. Wouldn't want him to ditch me, but I think he can register it if you suddenly change right before his eyes. Maybe... I don't know, use it but act aloof or something? And I'll introduce you... yeah, that sounds like it might work. Right? You have a lot more experience than me..." Patricia played with her hair nervously. She hadn't yet done any undercover work, although her power was good for it. Something about being too young to go on missions alone. Still, she was excited- if mind-numbingly nervous.
Luca Zorione Perez || “Canary” || Genderfluid || Nineteen (07/22) || A Class Villain || Color Code ffd147
Aliases: In their daily life, they go by Luca or Zorri interchangeably, to go with their fluid self-image. They have three known legal aliases, for which fake documents can be produced at any time - one Lucas Santana, one Zara Sutton, and one Peter Kingsley.
Physique: A slim, androgynous figure standing five feet nine inches tall, Zorri dresses primarily in oversized hoodies and slim-fit jeans, their well-worn belt adorned by a variety of charms and trinkets. She always wears a mask covering her angular nose and thin lips; the mask is always pristine, made out of white cotton and probably lined with a filter of some sort. Her medium brown hair is choppy and slightly overgrown, falling in a piecey bob that covers her ears and skims the back of her neck. Notably, her eyes are a warm amber shade that brightens to a glowing gold when she uses her powers.
Her skin is a fair, light olive tone somewhat leaning towards yellow undertones; whenever she’s using her power it glimmers faintly gold, and when using her battery ability her whole body radiates an orangey-gold glow.
On the right side of her chest, centered just below her collarbone but radiating up over the top and outside of her shoulder, there’s a large scar of about a hand’s span, raised, red, and vaguely, irregularly star-shaped.
Blood Type: B+
Occupation: half-time villain, half-time philanthropist, and part-time online college student, studying chemistry.
Affiliation: The Dogpack
Personality: Luca is a ready performer of their most idealized self, vivacious and flirty when surrounded by those they trust, and earnest and optimistic to those who they don’t. Those who don’t know them imagine them to be a great kid, straight-A honor roll sort of thing. They’re fond of games of deceit and subterfuge, though they’re decidedly bad at them; its all they can do to keep their petty crime ring a few steps in front of the law. Though that’s mostly because of their underlings…
Beyond this, though, they’re fiercely loyal to the gang that raised them, having a close-knit, sibling-like camaraderie among the handful of them that roam Castleburg’s streets. Luca is in a place of being undermined as their leader, however; back in Las Palmas they were somewhat of an underdog, about the fifth or sixth in command up until the split. Their friends view them as a somewhat fragile younger sibling to be protected. As a result of trying to prove themselves, Luca is prone to overcompensating and lashing out with a cruelty (and often a brashness bordering on stupidity) that is very unlike who they aspire to be. They try to stand by a platform of “no bystander casualties”, though as their work becomes more dangerous (and lucrative) it’s harder and harder to make sure that happens.
They’re fiercely protective of those they see as less-fortunate and incredibly bitter towards those in power, especially those they perceive as not doing enough to support those who are even worse-off.
They prefer to style themself as a “roguish freelancer”, not as a villain.
Backstory: The Dogpack of Las Palmas has been Zorri’s family since before she can remember. She cut her eyeteeth on petty pickpocketing in the heart of the city’s rich tourist districts, begging and scrapping for food and places to sleep on the streets. As she grew, she watched the city changing before her eyes.
Her family – and it was a family, even if people who didn’t understand called it a gang – grew in size and in influence, and turned from mere survival to …thriving, in a sense. They grew plants and brewed moonshine and cooked harder drugs, or at least, the older kids did, and scrounged up money for rent in an apartment that was far too nice for the likes of them.
As she grew up, she began to be trusted with more responsibility. Some of the older members left, off to pursue their own doings – some of them went off to jail, and came back different, or didn’t come back at all, and so the power kept shifting, the gang fairly-reliably remaining under 30 years old and around 30 members. Even the constant fleeing from the law was no match for the unity and safety in family the group always found.
The city was changing, though. Fewer and fewer tourists came as packs of cerberkins and similar, canine-adjacent Leftovers, as well as feral dog packs, began to descend on the city. IBERIA tried their best, but the feeble hero organization proved no match for the ever-growing packs of dogs and doglike beasts. All at once, people remembered that the Canary Islands were not, in fact, named after the pretty little songbirds, but rather named for the dogs.
The Dogpack had always remembered, having started from the same scrounging of scraps and begging at rich venues that so many of the canines did, and for a while there was a sort of wary, mutual respect between the ragged teens and ragged creatures. But as the years went on that peace eroded; soon it was a struggle, again, to survive. Without the income from tourists, the beginnings of poverty set in, and crime spiked. New competition, often from superpowered groups, began to erode their territory.
By this point in time, several of the Dogs had developed powers, Zorri among them, but they didn’t have the same sheer destructive skill that the other gangs had, and they quickly lost ground.
Things came to a head when Zorri was sixteen; several of the younger members of the group were mauled by a cerberkin while out on patrol. She was able to stabilize the most severely injured of them, but the damage to the group’s morale was done. They stopped patrolling altogether. Several of the longtime members left, as did many newcomers; they sought more security, more power, and less dog attacks. Zorri begged the others to consider leaving, but they would not hear her. Eventually, she could take it no more, and she gathered up the few allies she had; they bought fake passports and eventually made their way the hell out of Las Palmas. Their destination? Castleburg. A huge city of all sorts of people, a sprawling underground, and minimal MWE encounters…
As soon as they arrived in Castleburg, they realized two things. First of all, Zorri’s asthma, which had been manageable in the much smaller city of Las Palmas, was entirely uncontrollable here. The teen very nearly died from the thick air of city life; it’s rumored that their mask has some sort of specialized filter in it that is the only thing that enables them to continue living and working in the inner city. Second of all, Castleburg was not much better off in regard to heroes, or really any law enforcement, keeping the peace. There was the same hierarchy of gangs and families in the underworld here, too, and more of the damage to the city seemed to be done by heroes than by villains.
Now much smaller in numbers, and in a much bigger place, the remnants of the Dogpack struggled to carve out a niche for themselves. And having nearly died, Zorri struggled to re-earn the respect of what was left of her family. She sought to be the same kind of parent as Javier (the head of the pack when she first joined up) was, but found the youth of Castleburg unwilling to fall in with a group with no real territory or industry to speak of.
It’s been three years of slow, hard work, but it’s paid off. They fell in with the same drugs-and-petty-crime niche they had before; some of the Pack talk about going bigger and really making a name for themselves, but Zorri isn’t so sure. She doesn’t wish to be a villain, even though her gang – which is now getting involved, once again, into hard drugs, grand larceny, rumors of prostitution and (if they take up the lead they’ve recently sniffed out) illegal monster-fighting rings – seem to have that idea. They’ve begun attributing their collective works of mischief and illegality to Zorri’s name; in the public eye they’ve become The Canary’s Dogpack. It’s become an order of theatrics; yellow feathers, or failing that, yellow flowers, left at the scene of the crime in their getaway.
She doesn’t know what to do with them, but they’re bloody successful. An impressive dossier of grand larceny follows them, thousands stolen from the residences of affluent people all across the city. Less-well-documented drug charges follow them as well, and a few counts of possible homicide – Zorri is pissed about those. She’s expelled gang members for reckless endangerment and for homicide before; murder is fine, if it’s someone who needs murdering (and she can think of a few bloated businessmen that she’ll jump at the chance to take a laser to) but the innocent bystander is blameless, in all of this.
They’re supposed to be more on the side of Robin Hoods, not Hannibals. Jeez.
A gang of about eight core, full-time members, and about a dozen more who flit in and out for various purposes. They’re all teens and twenty-somethings, currently renting a home in Watervale that’s much too nice for their likes.
Their current base of operations is a seedy club in Brookside, where most of their growing and science happen in the basement, while the upstairs is a bar and club that caters to the not-yet-legal-to-drink-in-regular-places crowd. The place has several escape systems in place and Luca is on guard themself every night they’re open, ready to net the whole thing in an illusion if law enforcement comes knocking. There’s (forged, but well-forged) paperwork at the ready if they’re asked about a liquor license and so on, and similarly forged health inspection certificates. They do a hopping business; the gang almost doesn’t have to do crime to stay afloat.
As a group they’re known both for their crime and for their frequent donations to soup kitchens and community schools; as long as no one questions where the money is from, money is money, right? It’s theorized that once the gang members are looked after, Luca donates most or all of their surplus to those in need. Hoods, not Hannibals.
In addition to Luca, three of the others have powers, and as a result are kind of the “face” of the gang. Their information is briefly detailed below.
Elias “L” Ferreira, aka “Torero”: He’s about 22, big and brawny and kind of stupid, being brutally honest. Probably a B- tier by now, his abilities are superhuman strength and reflexes. He’s trained since before he could walk with a handgun. At the moment he serves as Luca’s muscle and brawn; incidentally, their right-hand person who’s been with them since the early days in Las Palmas.
Aya Martinez, aka “Flamenco”: 21, tiny, clever, and very pretty, she’s incredibly popular as an entertainer at the club. A C- tier, her ability is limited clairvoyance about the history of an object, based on touch. Useful in a variety of niche circumstances. Beyond that, she’s the closest thing Luca has to a friend and advisor. She has a great head on her shoulders but
Nicolas “Nico” Valverde, aka “Conquistador”: 19, handsome in a roguish, kind of scrawny way. He’s probably a B- in power level; he’s gifted with super speed and “Blur” as he calls it, which creates a brief illusion of him still in the place he started from – it gives him the appearance of teleportation, even though he doesn’t actually teleport. He’s been using blades and informally training a variety of martial arts since he was a child; he prefers blades to firearms, finding them a far more intimate way to kill. Probably the most terrifying and amoral of all the OG Packmates.
Power: An incredibly powerful variant on photokinesis, Luca’s power was named “Luc’s Luster” and then eventually shortened to “Lucluster” (A play on “lackluster”) by an affectionate gangmate. It’s far from lackluster, however…
While on the surface it’s simple light manipulation, which enables widespread visual illusioning by simply bending light rays around objects he wishes to hide or alteration of the rays reflecting off of an object, Luca’s abilities go far beyond these usages of petty illusion. He is very good at this level of power manipulation, however; he could illusion the width of a city street and length of a city block with reasonable focus, and maintain it for several hours as long as he didn’t need to change the scene much. Animated scenes obviously take more energy than stagnant ones. He finds this use to be very boring, but it does have its advantages.
More offensively, he is capable of reflecting and refocusing light from most parts of his body. A common use of this is gathering light with one hand and using the other to lens it into a thin, highly-focused beam. At the moment, this is dependent on willpower and focus and currently renders a thumbtack-sized beam, but he can use external lensing (he always carries a variety of conical and domed pyrex and other high-temperature-glass, stolen from other totally legitimate applications, for specifically this purpose) to focus this light further down to about the size of a pin’s pointy end. The effects of these beams are dependent on the light he has accessible; with full-spectrum light like sunlight, he can dip into the effects of infrared or ultraviolet lasers, for example. His max power output is similarly dependent on his light source, though his maximum limit is established by his body’s conductance as well; he can’t very well divert the entire energy of the sun. He can divert streetlights and similar constructions entirely, but has no tangible effect on the sun even when pulling as much power as he can. Sunlight can be focused to melt or at least soften steel; with a few hours of direct sunlight, planning, and focus, he could bring a building down with strategically placed weak points. Not that he would, but he could. These lasers are highly effective at rendering electronics ineffective; they can melt indiscriminately through plastic and softer metals, and with a bit of time to sit can melt glass and even steel. When focused down as thin as possible, they have a blasting effect and can etch or, given enough time, bore through non-flammable or meltable materials.
He can store the energy from light sources in his body, rather like a battery; in direct sunlight he can charge his “battery” to full in fifteen minutes if he focuses on it, but it’s exponentially longer time from artificial light or if his attention wanders – a bright streetlight might charge him in two hours of constant absorption, a lamp in a house four, a nightlight might take a whole day. As he’s charging his eyes begin to glow, then his skin, and finally (and most visually conspicuously) large, ray-like wings of light, spanning several meters, fan out from his shoulder blades. These wings are entirely intangible; people can walk through them with no ill effect save a warm or slightly tingling feeling. He has to be focusing in some capacity for his battery to charge with any efficiency at all, though he does passively charge a very small amount as he spends time in the sun.
As an interesting side effect to all of this, he doesn’t get sunburned, even though he’s fairly pale.
From this battery, he has a few powerful effects he can manifest, a testament to the diversity of his power. The first is a powerful, short-burst regenerative effect. It’s easiest to do on others if he’s in physical contact with them, but he can also do it on himself, though he lacks the focus to do it neatly. The stored energy, applied to damaged tissue, can forcibly regenerate it in a rather short time. It has been used to heal wounds that would have been shortly fatal (notably a chest gunshot that barely missed the heart but punctured lungs) though it would not be something successful on brain or neurological injuries. It also takes incredible precision to use neatly – it’s easy to cause disfiguring scarring. The scar on his chest is a result of this. Its important to note that this does not debride the wounds as it heals – Luca still has lead rattling around in his ribcage.
The second effect he can manifest is a sort of barely controlled hyper-agility, including short bursts of flight. By channeling the energy into his muscles and bones, he can override his body’s psychological limitations and hit harder, run faster, and jump higher than a normal human, though not beyond the physical capabilities of his musculature. He doesn’t have increased resilience to match; it’s not uncommon for him to have stress-related injuries as a result of using these abilities. Related, though distinct, is the use of the stored energy to lift his body several meters into the air; he can hover for a short time or propel himself through the sky in traditional superhero style flight, though at the moment it takes about five minutes to deplete his energy from full. It’s important to note that he hasn’t learned how to land yet if he completely depletes his power.
Third, and most destructively, he is capable of emitting stored light from his hands into beams resembling his usual spectrum of lasers, even without a light source to divert, though these stores are quickly depleted.
Other Notes: They’re genderfluid and often refer to themself with different pronouns and terminology on different days, as is reflected in the sheet, even if they don’t really change their appearance.
They have terrible asthma and probably another respiratory condition that they've never had diagnosed. It’s rumored that their mask has some sort of specialized filter in it that is the only thing that enables them to continue living and working in the inner city.
this is gonna be so fucking confusing but i love them
While hopping over the red-haired superhero, Jamie shot a concerned glance to Blake before dashing after the Iguanosaur. She followed the now aflame Felix after the Leftover, only a few steps behind him. Blake had delayed its fleeing, which was good- Felix seemed to be getting closer to it. Concern almost made her run over to check on him, but, in a smart moment, she decided not to. She knew, of course, that he'd be okay- it was Blake, he'd definitely been hurt worse than this on missions- but it still tugged at her heartstrings to see her friends hurt. Which was why this stupid dinosaur had to die!
She really only half-listened to Felix's words but got the gist of it. Stay away. She watched for a moment, fascinated, as the fox-tailed man grappled with the creature nearly two feet taller than him. While powerful, super-strength was a trait that Jamie did not possess. So, seeing someone able to grapple with a dinosaur was impressive. She stood there, stock-still, for a moment, watching. Then, once Felix's words registered in her mind, she started looking around for something she could use for a ranged attack. The Iguanosaur kept trying to run, so maybe something to hold it down? She glanced around the forest, circling the battle. Then, she saw something perfect. A tree. An oak tree with leaves fresh and green from springtime. But, unfortunately for it, it was about to fall down.
At an opportunity to crush it, Jamie flung out her hands. A concussive blast of pure vibrational force flew from her fingertips, forcing the tree to fall. She crossed her toes, hoping that her gamble with the tree would work out like she wanted it to, trapping the Leftover so that they could kill it. Otherwise, this might not go that well.
It took nearly all of Patricia's limited self-control to not smack Martino Bernadino right then and there for that pet name. Sugar plum. She had to hold back a disgusted shudder, and, instead, smile sultrily up at him. Her lips curled back from her teeth, her eyelashes fluttered. She had looked up flirting techniques on the way here and, thankfully, she was a good actor- just by the way he was staring at her breasts, he was definitely attracted to her. Even if she was about 40 years too young for him.
She giggled a third time, pretending to hide a bashful smile. "I would adore that. I've been looking for something to... occupy my attention. Maybe we could even have a little bit of fun after."
She waved as he left to head to the poker game, still smiling. But, as soon as he entered the room and closed the door, her smile dissolved into a disgusted grimace. Bianca Romano disappeared, replaced by a very exposed feeling Patricia. She glanced at Brie, Angelica, and Tom, waiting over by the bar. They looked like they were scouting out the poker game, trying to get in- which wouldn't be necessary anymore. Patricia had a way right into the heart of their organization.
Looking over her shoulder again to make sure Martino wasn't watching her (he wasn't), she headed over to the group, glaring a little at Brie. Although Brie was one of her few friends in the organization, she was the one who had suggested this whole seduction thing, and Patricia was not happy about it. And she'd have to keep the act up for god knows how long, too.
"We need a change of plans," Patricia whispered to them once she ensured that no one was listening in. "I seduced that Martino guy- I'm still not happy about that, by the way. His end goal is definitely sex and there is no way I am doing that. Anyways, he's gonna bring me to their meeting as his date or whatever after the poker game's done. I could probably get you guys in as a crew for hire or whatever, but we don't need this poker game. I've got a way in, all we have to do is wait." Her voice was hushed as she leaned in to say all of this, her arms crossed. She kept glancing to the door to the backroom, watching for Martino.
Member
RPM
Emma
ZenBlve
Blizz
Scarifar
Majoraa
Altered Tundra
Barham
