Job Interview.

[Guest]

She walked down Broad and Vine in Central city. Her outfit was rather smart and classy; a pin striped suit and hat, black leather boots, her hair flowing on her back that swayed back and forth with her hips and a smart looking black handbag. Inside was every woman's best friend: Make up, mirror, cell phone, a mini notebook and pen and a gun. A derringer throwaway gun. Very handy and light when one wanted to make a quick get-away.
After a few minutes of cursing, looking and asking, Victoire finally found her destination; the Hoofless Horse Inn. It wasn't the most fanciest or prettiest inn Victoire ever seen but it was practically unnoticable. Maybe that was why it was so hard to find.
Victoire started going in, noticing the toasty warmth from the fireplace, the smell of pie and beer that make her mouth water. Maybe she could grab one on her way out. Doesn't hurt to indulge every once and awhile. The young woman started to walk on the stairs with her dainty steps, all the while, ignoring the whistles and longer-than-normal stares from the male customers and found herself in a wide hallway.
"Now..It was the fourth brown door to my right.." She muttered to herself.
She turned to her right and walked towards the fourth brown door. Victoire knew this would be betraying her "country" but then, her father, a tyrant came from this country and her mother was from Creta, where her employer came from. Sure, this may hurt her "wallet" too but the pay seemed nice.
With that she knocked on the door three times and whispered in Cretan:
"Hogwash."

[Guest]

After a few moments, the door opened by a rather large man, dressed in a fine suit. He moves to the side to allow you entrance, revealing a rather small but ornate looking room, contrasting the subtle nature of the rest of the inn. It wasn’t well lit, instead seeming like that of a study, with a fireplace in the back, burning bright. To the right is a door, presumably leading to at least one other room, and the rest of the wall is hidden behind a series of bookshelves, neatly filled with books of all kinds and genres. To the left is a small bar, with a well-dressed bartender pouring a glass of wine. He gives you a slight nod before he walks over to a pair of large and rather comfortable looking lounge chairs, handing the glass to a man facing away from you, towards the fire.

“If you’re searching for the good Sir Franz Ferdinand,” a voice says, smooth as silk with calculating undertones, “then you’ve found the right place.” You watch as the man swirls the glass of wine a bit before finally taking a sip, sticking his pinky out. “There’s been a slight change of plans though, Ms. Victoire, and I hope you won’t mind.” Putting the glass down on a nearby table, you see his arm motion to the second chair. "You're welcome to a drink first, if it tickles your fancy." The bartender readies a second glass at the bar, waiting for your word.

[Guest]

Victoire blinked in surprise at the sudden change of settings but shrugged it off. She had seen weirder.
She exmaned the man and tried to discern him but nothing came up. Blank, she could not read him. Nice suit though, it looked recently washed though. Probably one of those men that were always fashionably one time. But Victoire shrugged this off casually and sat on one of the comfy lounge chairs, taking off her hat respectfully. Looking at the bar, her throat felt dry all of the sudden and longed for a drink, being tempted by the smell of beer and pie before.
"Scotch on the Rocks please Bartender." She said in a sweet, honey coated voice. The woman then looked at the man again; what kind of person poked their pinky out onto the air? A rich dandy maybe. Victoire had seen too many of those.
"I do not mind a slight change of plans sir. It all suits well with me." She said, giving the mysterious man a charming smile.
Victoire crossed her leg gracefully, lacing her fingers together and putting her hands on her lap. Now she waited for her scotch and what she had came for.

[Guest]

With a nod of the well-dressed man, the bartender gets straight to work. “Not my choice of drink for most occasions, but I do admit that you have fine tastes, especially with how we stock the bars.” He speaks in this second language without stride, his accent perfect, as though he was born and raised in Amestris.

He gives a small smile, his right hand resting on the red-and-gold orb on his walking stick. “Now, I’m sure that you were already aware, or at least I hope you were, that there is no Sir Franz Ferdinand. There is only I, Lord Dietrich von Vermont, and I’ve deemed you important enough to meet with you in person, Ms. Victoire.” He gives a small chuckle, though at what you’re not entirely sure. “Don’t be alarmed, but I have some questions to ask of you. I’m afraid I can’t just allow open applications for a Cloak and Dagger position. Though, fret not, for I’ll be compensating you well for your extra time spent here.”

The bartender walks up, gently placing a glass on the table next to Victoire, and then swiftly turns to head back to the bar.

“A toast, Ms. Victoire, to a good interview, perhaps?” he asks, raising his glass of wine up.

[Guest]

Yes of course there was no such person; she knew this game all too well. Victoire had this procedure done so many times, she could do it again a million times over with her eyes closed. But she did not voice as such as that would be rude to her host. Bring nice to your future employer was essential.
"What an honour." Victoire said in Amestrian, her native tounge but Cretan was her native tongue also. A smile still gracced the young woman's face.
She muttered a thanks to the bartender and put the cool glass that contained the rock-like ice and the amber coloured liquid, on her smooth cheek. The cool relieved her, relaxed her; she never liked too much heat otherwise it would make her disgustingly sick. Thank god it was just toasty warm.
"I am happy to answer any of your questions Lord Vermont. I understand you cannot take any random application and agree to your interviewing terms." Just so long as they do not question my love life. Victoire thought.
The young woman then lifted her glass, her finger nails glossy and looked like they were made out of glass and gave a toast in return.
"To a good interview." She took a sip, her natural coloured lipstick marked onto the rim.

[Guest]

Giving a cheerful grin, he takes a sip of wine. But now…

Ah, yes, now to the essentials. Putting his glass down, he extends his right arm out. The rather burly man walks up, handing him a manila folder, and then waking away. The grin disappearing from his face, he opens it, and begins flipping through several of the pages and photos inside.

“Your Cretan isn’t bad, by the way,” he says, reviewing a general information sheet. “I see you speak Drachman as well, but I’m not sure how much use that would come in.” Again, he speaks flawlessly and with a perfect accent. “Now, you certainly qualify for more than being just a simple spy, which is why I took such an interest in you. Anyone can be a spy, but it takes a different kind of person to go beyond that. Extortion, fraud, kidnapping, stealing, sabotage… Even assassinations.” He gives a small impish grin at that, his red eyes staring at you, flickering from the fire.

“I’m afraid I must ask, but why do you think your skills would be best suited for this job? Why you, and not, say, a trained Cretan operative that I hand pick?” By all means a simple question, he knew that looking at papers and photos could only tell you so much. To get the real answers, you had to talk to the person, hear them, and read them. Plus, he felt the information before him was slightly outdated, so redundancy had to be called for.

[Guest]

Victoire stared back with her emerald green eyes; her expression was blank, unseeing nor giving away anything but someone else she hardly knew reading out what she had done for the past few years wasn't so nice. But then again, she did say she would happily take and answer any questions so Victoire just grinned and beared with it.
"Well I may not be the best person, I have conned many people so you may or may not trust me, If you do, I would just work. After all it is for the money and that's all I'm here for. Or probably more;adventure maybe? Something more than conning the average, corrupt businessman." She said, taking another sip of her drink. The fire from the fireplace flickered in her emerald green eyes, making them look like they are burning and moving. So far, this interview wasn;t so bad; she just had to think about her answers carefully.
"I'm probably best suited because my skills are more than average than the common thief. And not just thief as you would of heard or seen. I also can do heavily armed jobs if you know what I mean. And why me? I'm still Amestrian but I am also Cretan by my mother. You can probably trust me more than a Cretan footsolider. And there is no one charming enough to fiill in this position."

[Guest]

He smirked. She seemed to be thinking things through. And admirable quality in any job, but a necessary quality for this position. Plus, she certainly has more personality than the previous prospect. Then again, he was left without any personality by the end…

“Ah yes, your mother. My condolences for your loss, even though I’m a bit late for that.” He bows his head for a moment to give respects. “Under normal circumstances, I’d say that, if you had the proper documents, you could easily become a Cretan citizen if you so wished. However, that is neither here nor there at this point at time, and I do apologize for not being able to delve into specifics.”

He quietly flips through a few more of the pages in the document, his eyes flying over every word. “Yes, yes,” he mutters, before reaching a thick stack of photos. “I’m afraid that I’d rather not resort to the ‘heavily armed’ jobs, as you put it, but I will admit that it’s nice to have that option from a potential agent.” Flipping through the photos nonchalantly, he continues on with a few more papers.

“Now, how is your opinion of the military?” he asks, closing the manila folder. “I’m afraid I can’t give specifics, but I do need to know how willing you are to get close to certain military personnel to get information, if required.” A legitimate question, considering he was planning a war. Plus, he couldn’t find any records indicating any specific contact with anyone in the military. At least not anyone high up.

[Guest]

"I am not interested in Cretan citizenship. If I was, I would of already signed the papers awhile ago." She said straightforwardly.
Victoire watched the man flip through the manila folder; how did he get info on her? Did he have documents, police reports of the Fallen Magdalene? Probably, he seemed powerful enough to make, even the most well hidden secrets, appear into thin air as if it was the most easiest thing to do in the world.
"I think the military is part of everyday life..At least for a normal citizen but for me, they are a small obstacle to my fun. I mean, I have to deal with them nearly everyday to get what I want but that makes it more fun I guess. But they are also needed to provide law and order for the masses that populate this country." She said this has honestly and truthfully as she could. Victoire could not sum it up into any other words but that was the best she could do.
Now, getting close to certain militants was intriguing. Doing jobs like that were easy, espicially if they were men but she hoped, deep in her heart, that it wasnt the person she was thinking of. With that thought, she took another sip of hr drink, trying not to gulp it down.

[Guest]

A vague answer to a vague question. At least more vague than he wanted. He couldn’t hold it against her, though. It wasn’t her fault he didn’t ask a good question.

"I've always found it odd," he says, looking up from the file, "that this country uses its military as a policing force." He smiles and shrugs. "Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea." He chuckles, pondering over whether he could get parliament to approve more power to him on the basis of the defense of the public.

“I apologize about this,” he says, closing the folder and tapping it lightly. “I’ve had quite a bit of fun tracking you down and finding information on you. I assure you, though, that anything incriminating in this won’t be held against you.” Holding it out, the burly man walks up and takes the folder again before heading back to his post by the door. With a sigh, Dietrich relaxes back into his chair, taking another sip of wine.

“So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to move on to something a bit different. One’s past does not consume all of my curiosity. I must be aware of how you think as well, how you might act. So, let’s say that you’re given the order to take someone out. Firstly, do you accept? Second, what would your preferred method of taking him out be? Don’t worry about the specifics; I just want to know how you like operate.” He was confident she excelled in stealth and subtlety, but sometimes one’s skills don’t align with one’s tastes.

[Guest]

Victoire simply shrugged and darnk the last of her drink and looked at the empty glass, save for the melting ice in it. When he smiled, she simply smiled back. The lipstick felt..faded. Feeling this, she looked into her handbag and fished out her mirror and lipstick. She applied while listening to her client intently. Victoire thought she should charge people consultation. Maybe after this.
"It's quite alright as long as no one but you, and me and the bartender know my...alter ego." She said, finishing applying her make up.
Be aware of how I think? Victoire found herself being amused but did not let her amusement reach her eyes; she had many identities, many personalities, and alot more ways of thinking than this man thought she had. Simply being aware of her actions and how she thought was going to be a picnic. But none the less, she shall answer the question as truthfully.
"Depends. The client would have to give me a generous amount of money to take that person out; like say he's an oil tycoon. The price would come with consultation, number of bullets, distance covered, etc." Sorry but true. Most clients say no at first but Victoire always gets what she wants in the end. By telling them that she will tip their target off because a certain someone wanted them dead. It always worked.
"As for my method, I rather be straightforward, quick and discreet. In other words, just put a gun to his head and be done with it. The sooner the better."

[Guest]

He waited and listened, with a small smirk on his face. “Ms. Victoire, I must say that one does not become king in just name alone. I’m sure that I can afford whatever fee you try and throw my way.”

So far, he liked this woman. She seemed intelligent, crafty, and she even had a logical take on assassinations. Though her example was certainly not low-key, he was confident she had common sense as well. “Intelligence and common sense… That’s not something you see every day.”

Dietrich paused for a moment, thinking over his next question carefully. It had to be precisely worded, so as to not leave room for maneuvering. He looked at her for a moment, wondering whether she was too intelligent or crafty for this position. Then again, he didn’t want to waste someone who, at the very least, might cause some havoc while his plans came to fruition.

“Ms. Victoire,” he begins, “I must say that you’ve answered my call quite readily. Perhaps too readily…” He stands up, gripping his walking stick in his right hand. “I’m afraid I might come off as a bit paranoid, but you must understand, I have to take all considerations into account.” Looking down at her, his red eyes stare at her with great intensity. “So, with much reluctance I have to ask: if you’re so willing to work against Amestris, what would prevent you from working against me?” His fingers rapped against the crimson-and-gold orb on his walking stick, his face filled with grave intensity.

[Guest]

"I think out my answers your majesty, I rather not trip over my words." She said with another smile, her emerald green eyes glowing, reflected from the fireplace.
She watched, with her cat eyes, at the man's movements, as if to predict what his next movement would be. Of course it would be another question and it was one she answered so many times.
"It's always the money. I work for the highest bidder and so far, you are the most interesting client yet. I have always worked for company CEO's who were willing to take out the competition or rich wives wanting to get their husband's money but a king wanting to take out a country? That is interesting." Victoire said this with the same calm and cool she had throughout the entire interview, telling the truth. Or at least as truthful as she could. The only problem is with all this, though she did not word it out, is with that person...
"So please, I would not work againist you your majesty. I don't know anyone else who would meet my outrageous demands nor as interesting as you." Victoire said with a flirtatous wink.

[Guest]

BUMP

[Guest]

He waited and listened, disregarding her attempt at flirting with him. Such a woman was not fit for a King such as himself. What would his people think?

“This will work to my advantage, nonetheless.”

“Ms. Victoire,” he says, motioning to the bartender, “I believe I have asked all the questions that I’ve prepared for this evening.” The bartender walks up to her with an ornate wooden box in his hands. He lowers it, opening the lid and revealing the contents: a velvet cloak and a diamond dagger. “Consider this a gift to you, from me,” he continues. “Much like the Kings of Olde had their own rogues, spies, and assassins, I must also have my own. As such, you are to fulfill that duty.” He grins, one of his fingers hitting a switch on his cane, allowing him to pull the blade out. “Now, if you don’t mind taking a knee, I can officially appoint you to your new duty within the Royal Task Force.”

[Guest]

BUMP

[Guest]

Since Victoire is currently having internet-related issues (as seen here), I'd like to petition that this thread not be moved into the archives.

[Guest]

{Since I'm assuming Internets are still not friendly... BUMP}

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