[Round Two] Cat? Or Mouse?

[LadyElvenarcher]

Darkness encompassed the lavish bedchambers of Alehandro Cordova, pierced only by the small flickers of sporadically-placed incense candles. Within the sanctuary of his rooms, the man lounged comfortably on a plush, silken couch nestled in a corner near a flickering greenish glow that contrasted sharply with the deep red of the furniture. He had already removed the coat portion of his Giorgio Armani jet-black business suit, which now lay in a carelessly crumpled pile on the floor. Len tried her utmost to hide her disgusted snort. People with an overflow of money held hardly any respect for their own possessions.

Oh, that’s okay. Don’t bother hanging up your $1500 jacket or anything. I’m sure you’ve got plenty more in your closet already. She barely restrained the roll of her eyes.

While Alehandro continued to eye her with blatantly undisguised lust, Len ignored him for the moment and cast her gaze over the bedroom. It was, in fact, three rooms connected by a few tall hallways so that it still had the ambience of a single room. The equivalent of a living room—the room which the two of them now occupied—was to the east of the bedroom proper, while the dining area split off the west side of the central bedroom. Len had a sinking suspicion that they wouldn’t make it to the dining room side before the night was over.

“Would you care for some wine?” Alehandro’s voice played like silk over her ears, and Len turned her attention back to him, veiling her surprise at seeing a bottle of Merlot in his hand along with two crystal wine glasses. Where he had suddenly procured the items from, she had no earthly idea.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she tried to politely decline with a practiced smile.

“Oh-ho-ho-ho…” He slid smoothly over to her side and began pouring her a glass. “You are a tough senorita, no?”

Len chuckled softly and accepted the proffered glass without protest. “I believe senora would be the more appropriate term for me.”

Alehandro’s golden eyes lit up with excitement. “Ah, I knew you had the look of a woman of experience. This is most excellent news.” He grinned.

Len flashed a faint smile with no feeling behind it in his direction. Her mind was too preoccupied with other things besides feeding male desires. In truth, the only reason she even remotely entertained his advances was his connection to José Escobar—also popularly known, especially in and around the underworld, as Ángel de Muerte, the Angel of Death. Escobar was a purported vigilante, hunting down what he called “the scum on the bottom of the respectable world’s shoe” for no other reason than his self-righteous mindset. Ludicrous thinking, thought Len. Why put your life on the line for nothing? At least ask for money from somebody in return.

An arm around her waist suddenly snapped the Butterfly Assassin back to her present circumstances. Alehandro had taken advantage of her distraction to make his move, his fingers gliding down her spine to the small of her back, caressing tenderly. He seemed especially intrigued by the fake butterfly wings trailing down from the back of her dress. Although, Len guessed that he was probably more intrigued by what he was even now imagining beneath all that leather. He pulled her closer to his body, the wine abruptly forgotten, and leaned his head down to breathe warmly on her ear.

“You are muy interesante, hermosa.”* Briefly, his long tongue slid out to lap curiously at her earlobe.

Len smiled coyly. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Alehandro chuckled. “I could say the same to you.” Suddenly, he picked her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, extinguishing candles as he went as if by magic. Gently, he placed her on the bed and said simply, “Undress.”

Len arched an eyebrow, which she wasn’t sure if he could see in the nearly pitch blackness of the room. “You think I’m going to take off my clothes just because you told me to?”

An amused, silky chuckle blanketed her ears as Alehandro’s body was unexpectedly on top of hers. She felt him kiss along the side of her jaw as he whispered softly, “Unless you’d rather I undress you…”

Len’s breath caught in her throat as a tiny sensation prickled along her neck. He was running his teeth over her skin there, and while normally, something like that would barely faze her, now she was sure those teeth were sharper than they should be.

Fangs…

Attempting to make her voice as timid and frightened as possible, Len managed to tremble while asking, “Y-you’re a…vampire?”

This display of helpless femininity seemed to urge the vampire onward, and he nicked her neck slightly, running his tongue over the tiny bit of blood that welled up. “Mm, yes, I am.”

He got no further, though, for Len swiftly drew Stille and stuck it threateningly between his lips and into his mouth, careful not to damage anything that might be necessary for talking. She was fed up with games. “Where’s José?” Hemel flashed in the darkness and rested at Alehandro’s throat so that Len could remove Stille from his mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking abo—” He paused to rethink his words as Len’s dagger pressed ever closer against his skin. “The last I knew of Ángel de Muerte, he had established his base of operations in the Pinewood District. That’s about two miles north of—”

“I know where it is,” Len snapped. “Anything I should know about this place or this guy before I head that way? It would be in your best interest if you would say so now.”

Alehandro complied. “He is…like myself, though he does an extremely good job of hiding it. Only I ever knew that he was a nosferatu. His escondite** will take some finding, though. He tries to blend in as much as possible with you humans.”

Len nodded. “He plays his vigilante game in order to cover up his feeding.” It was a statement, not a question.

She did not give Alehandro any time to reply, however, and within about five minutes—long enough for the silver from her blades to spread amply through his body—he collapsed in a rapidly-spreading pool of his own blood now soaking into his designer sheets. Len rolled him over onto his back and kissed his cold lips for a long moment before pulling back and running a finger down his cheek. “Just icing on the cake, gorgeous. No hard feelings.” Then, she was off the bed and out the window in the blink of an eye, heading north for the Pinewood District and her true quarry.

*very interesting, beautiful
**hideout

[Andurhil/Cookie]

Tanya idly twirled one of her pistols around her finger as she stood leaning back against the wall, her eyes fixed upon the man lounging on the couch across from her. He was laid back against a black leather settee, wearing a pair of dark grey pinstripe pants and a white formal shirt, the collar left unbuttoned. His feet were up on the table in front of him, his jacket discarded beside him. His attention was directed at the television screen across from him at the moment, a sports channel showing some random event.

She holstered her weapon and ran her eyes along him, taking in his figure and lingering on his face for a few moments. One could say that he was handsome, his brow thick and his eyes deep-set and captivating, his short fuzz of a beard adding to his pronounced masculinity. Her gaze had remained longer than she intended, and she quickly looked away when she caught herself, looking blankly at the TV instead.

José Escobar. The name meant little to her, all she knew was that it was her duty to protect this man, and she never questioned her orders. It seemed odd that the CIA would want to look out for someone who appeared to have all of life's comforts and had no connection at all with anything to do with the state or military. As far as she was aware, he was simply a civilian. Yet something about him, maybe his exceptional good looks, seemed almost inhuman.

The TV switched off with a sudden clicking sound, and Tanya's gaze snapped back to him in time to see the remote being returned to its perch on the table. He then turned his striking emerald eyes to her and flashed a grin, putting one leg over the other. Although those eyes seemed to bore into her, the female simply smiled in response, trying to remain as professional as possible.

"Why don't you have a drink, mi flor?" he offered, gesturing to the bottle of champagne on the table.

Tanya politely shook her head before responding. "No thank you, señor Escobar. I never drink when on duty," she said, smiling once more.

"Por favor, call me José. And I've repeatedly said that I require no protection," he continued, grinning again.

She pushed away from the wall and slowly drifted off towards him. "Well... the agency seems to think you're in need of protection, and I'm just following orders... José."

The man gave a brief chuckle and picked up his champagne glass, giving a hinting clink against the empty glass next to his own, and brought it to his lips. Tanya merely smirked and continued to look at him in amusement. "A pretty feminino such as yourself should not be burdened with such... dull tasks."

Tanya couldn't help blushing at this comment, but she struggled to maintain composure. She might have been depraved of affection for quite some time now, but emotions had no place in assignments. Besides, she hardly knew much about the man except that the CIA wanted him alive, and she was sure there was much more to him than meets the eye.

"Well, if you're not planning on joining me for a drink, I believe I will head off to the bañera," he declared, and returning the glass to the table, he rose to his feet and strode past Tanya, looking down at her and giving a brief nod as he walked past her and towards the hot-tub area.

The spy's gaze followed him as he walked down one of the mansion's corridors, unbuttoning his shirt as he went, and then down a few steps. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, and although there was no way she'd ever admit it, his charm was starting to get to her. Trying to clear her head and focus on the task at hand, she walked over to the couch and picked up his jacket, folding it neatly and holding it against her chest, and followed after him.

By the time she had gotten there, Jose was behind a foldable screen at a corner of the room, getting undressed, his silhouette only faintly visible behind the translucent screen. The taps of the tub had already been turned on, slowly filling up the circular tub. As se looked around the room trying to survey the scene, she realised that the room was pretty vulnerable, strategically. The greater portion of the room's walls consisted of windows, giving a great view of the surrounding pine forest. Looking up, she noticed that there was a circular window directly above the centre of the room, letting in the pale moonlight, illuminating the room with a rippling pearlescent glow.

The man who she was protecting walked out from behind the screen wearing a white robe and grinned at her. "Ah, señorita Tanya, you mustn’t put yourself through such menial tasks," he said, gesturing to the folded pinstripe jacket in her arms. "A man should be taking care of you, not the other way round."

She almost blushed in response, but tried her best to hide the faint fluttering she felt inside. Normally she'd have shaken off any advances, but something about this man seemed to draw her in. Mentally scolding herself for not focusing on the job, she shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts, and simply smiled.

Jose chuckled at this gesture as he began walking towards the now full tub, closing both taps, and then switching on the hydromassage. Almost immediately, bubbles shot up through the water, turning the previously transparent liquid into a frothing white mass. Looking back at her, he spoke, "I hope this is not interfering with your mission, senorita Tanya."

"Well... I have to say that this isn't the safest part of the mansion, but I suppose I can't keep you locked up in your room," she joked.

Jose gave a short laugh which somehow made Tanya feel as if she had achieved some great task, and walked over to the edge of the hot-tub. He untied his bath robe, letting it drop to the ground at his feet, blatantly indifferent to the fact that the female operative was standing right across from him. Tanya flashed a faint smile as she looked straight into his face, trying her best to appear unfazed. The man gave a brief chuckle and turned around to enter the frothing waters, and the spy couldn't help but lower her gaze to his admittedly nice rear for a moment before the turbulent liquid blocked all view.

OOC: For the record, assume that his vampiric powers are similar to those of Des, if you know what I mean