Shadowblood

Lynette....hm. I haven't thought about her in a while. I shouldn't bore you with her story. Not yet, not while there is an infinitely more interesting murder case center stage.
But... I can't help wondering why I would think of her, of all people. Even with the Green Monster I can control my thoughts that much. But it has been days since that trip. Now I have to work again... with that naive King and his son. Why am I always stuck with the slow ones?
Speaking of which, that stupid royal gala is tonight. What torture. Why should I, the most infamous assassin and Lamia for miles, be subjected to this humiliating experience? To even go is an insult to both my intelligence and image, but to be going with the King's son? That just isn't right.

But since the brat, who is seventy-five years younger than me, I might add, is going to be here in less than an hour to pick me up, I might as well get dressed. I try to put my hair up a certain way, before realizing that I am not the girly type and completely giving up. So I brush it straight. Who cares what I look like anyway? I'm just going to kill people, not to impress anyone.

When he knocks at my door, I deliberately wait as long as I possibly can before letting him in. I wish I had waited longer. He is standing there in a navy suit and red tie. A navy suit. Is he twelve?

"Good evening Angel," he says, kissing my hand. I grimace, "You look...lovely."
He looks like he ate something sour as he is forced to admit it. But then he continues, "The bloodstains sure came out nicely. How long did that take you?"

I bite back my comments as his eyes rake over my dress. "Thanks. If only I could say you look as good as I do. Nice tie."
I smile my sweetest smile, and his eyes flash, aware of the insult at his attempt to match my dress.

"May I come in?"

"No."

Silence. We glare at each other.

"Well, will you be coming out then?"

"Huh, that's funny...I thought in a suit like that, you would be the one 'coming out.' My mistake."

He was getting visibly frustrated with me. I love my sense of humor.

"Well, would you at least hurry up? We're supposed to be making our entrance in less than an hour."

"Haven't you ever heard that you can't rush perfection?"

"Haven't you ever heard that vanity is a sin?"

"So isn't murder. I'm an assassin. Pride is, too. You're a prince. Neither one of us is very religious. Care to point out anything else out?"

"If we don't leave in the next five minutes, we'll be late for the party."

"And this motivates me...because?"

"Because if we don't get there on time, the murderer might get bored. And leave. And make all of this suffering pointless."

Huh. The brat may just have a point.

"Fine. I'm getting my things."

"What things?!"

I smirk, already grabbing my small bag, and slipping the blue vial into it. Just in case.