The Courier flopped herself down onto the lone bed dominating most of the room and gazed around at the ancient, peeling wallpaper.
Vulpes began digging through his duffel bag, quickly finding what he was searching for and tossing it towards the Courier. “These are for you. I imagine you have at least some approximation of how to make yourself look presentable.”
The Courier looked down at the dress and heels strewn beside her on the mattress. “Oh darling, you shouldn't have.” She mockingly batted her eyelashes at him as she held the gown up to her body. “Who did you have to kill to get your hands on this? And really, Vulpes. Red? How ostentatious.”
“I've had quite enough of your snark, Courier. If you're not on your best behavior tomorrow evening, I won't hesitate to wring your neck. Now listen closely to what I'm about to tell you. I have no intentions of repeating myself. I'm sure you're well aware of the current dynamics around the Strip. With Mr. House and the head of the Chairmen gone, that leaves only the White Gloves and the Omertas. No doubt this will lead to a power struggle. Tomorrow is the perfect opportunity for the Omertas to strike, and we need to be on the lookout for any strange behavior on their part. Do you understand?”
The Courier sat crosslegged on the bed as he spoke, staring at him intently with her half-lidded eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You will refer to me as Mr. Fox from now on. Do not forget. So much as one slip up will cost us both our lives.”
“Not to worry, Fox. You can count on me.”
Vulpes took a menacing step toward her. “Can I?”
Though her lips were still curled up in her usual half-grin, he could see the flash of fear dance across her eyes. The Courier opened her mouth, about to protest. Vulpes quickly interrupted her. He had no patience for this.
“I'm finished discussing this. It's time for rest.”
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timeasmymeasure
When Day is Done 4/?
Date: 2014-05-14 07:08 pm (UTC)Vulpes began digging through his duffel bag, quickly finding what he was searching for and tossing it towards the Courier. “These are for you. I imagine you have at least some approximation of how to make yourself look presentable.”
The Courier looked down at the dress and heels strewn beside her on the mattress. “Oh darling, you shouldn't have.” She mockingly batted her eyelashes at him as she held the gown up to her body. “Who did you have to kill to get your hands on this? And really, Vulpes. Red? How ostentatious.”
“I've had quite enough of your snark, Courier. If you're not on your best behavior tomorrow evening, I won't hesitate to wring your neck. Now listen closely to what I'm about to tell you. I have no intentions of repeating myself. I'm sure you're well aware of the current dynamics around the Strip. With Mr. House and the head of the Chairmen gone, that leaves only the White Gloves and the Omertas. No doubt this will lead to a power struggle. Tomorrow is the perfect opportunity for the Omertas to strike, and we need to be on the lookout for any strange behavior on their part. Do you understand?”
The Courier sat crosslegged on the bed as he spoke, staring at him intently with her half-lidded eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You will refer to me as Mr. Fox from now on. Do not forget. So much as one slip up will cost us both our lives.”
“Not to worry, Fox. You can count on me.”
Vulpes took a menacing step toward her. “Can I?”
Though her lips were still curled up in her usual half-grin, he could see the flash of fear dance across her eyes. The Courier opened her mouth, about to protest. Vulpes quickly interrupted her. He had no patience for this.
“I'm finished discussing this. It's time for rest.”