No black magic can control me and no curse can let you own me
Come when called. That was what her existence had come down to. It hardly mattered what she had been in the middle of when the little notification bell rang. Darcy content to give her no warning only an address and time. Man had no concept that she was busy. She was in the middle of finishing up a sleeve, the client had booked in for four hours and she only got in two. She should have not checked her phone, left the damn thing on silent. Like that would have kept him away. What would stop him from retrieving her himself? Now that would have been far worse she was sure. She wanted her home and workplace free of anything Syn. As long as she could help it. Unwilling to let the two worlds to collide for as long as possible. He was nothing short of vague in his ominous summoning, although she had to admit, it was curious to meet Darcy. At a restaurant. Did he get a hankering for Italian? Was that what it was? Maybe vampires craved meatballs every now and then. This task, whatever it was, was met with just as much enthusiasm as.... One would expect. The raven-haired spitfire hardly kept that look of irritation from her features as she made up some bogus excuse to her client. She dressed in all black. It seemed fitting for a funeral because she expected death... at least someone was bound to die. It was to be expected from the harbinger of... shit news and an even more shit....
Honey do list, that's basically what this had to be. Risque had to have sent him on some other errand of who the fuck knew what and Harley was the lucky one to accompany him. But the east... what the hell was in the east? It was the fancy part of town too. Was Darcy feeling particularly fancy? With the scarce details given, she wondered what she needed. Like did she need to pack some snacks? The girl got hungry.... If she was going to be running around all night with grouchy t-rex with a temper... she was going to need to keep her energy up. Weapons? Did she need to pack a spare set of clothes?
Tetradore and Darcy might as well have been similar in this regard. Neither man knew how to use their words. Communication clearly not their forte. Perhaps.. Darcy had the wrong sidekick for tonight's mission. She hadn't known what to expect when she parked her beloved car, doing one of her best attempts at a parallel park and strode up along that sidewalk, keeping an eye out for the name of the restaurant. But seeing Darcy, sitting there... at the quaint little Italian restaurant at a patio with flowers, candlelight and shit. Now that was a sight she had not anticipated this. Not at all. No one could be prepared for that sight she was sure. The sight alone, even despite being a pain in her ass could not hide that sarcastic quirk of her lips, even though she seemed less than pleased as a whole. She did not enjoy the thought of seeing him again nor to have to obey whatever with little fucked up choreographed mission he had planned for them. Harley took her time in reaching the impatient cowboy. It was like he knew she was coming, as if he had caught the scent of her, his piercing gaze only echoed his impatience. Ah, there he was. Same 'loveable' ball of needles. She was quite certain it was his resting asshole face... The raven-haired woman left out a heartfelt sigh before she plastered on that look of pure sarcasm she saved just for him, like somehow... she wasn't about to say something highly unpleasant. Harley moved on her own schedule, although she might have been worse if she had known just what the man wanted. She navigated through the scattered tables and chairs, taking note of the people that peppered sporadically within that patio. Poor bastards. Did they know who sat amongst them?
Harley did not peg him for a man who enjoyed Italian. She nudged the leg of the chair opposite from him so she could flop herself into it, leaning back as if she were entirely comfortable. "Italian.. How romantic." she uttered as she did so. Surely Darcy had no desire to attack her in public. It probably made her all the more... bold and yet when was she not? Harley wasn't able to get out any more of the wide array of ammo that threatened to spill from her lips the moment she sat down. Did he intend to spend some quality time with his favourite feline? Yeah right. She couldn't help it. Fortunately, he cut right to the chase. At least that was one thing she liked about him in that very moment. She reached out to flip open the menu carelessly as if she intended to actually order something. Oh look at those prices! This could be fun...
She casually rose her vibrant eyes to meet his own, his own two-toned eyes looked near menacing even in the warm candlelight and mood lighting that were strung prettily around on posts, that one would expect from a place like this. Darcy made it seem like the job was simple. Which more than likely meant it wasn't. Why did Darcy need her though? Harley pivoted within her chair to look in the direction in which he gestured to before turning back to him, with a look that seemed like a cross between shot me now and did they bring the fresh bread rolls yet? His plan... if you could call it that... was painfully obvious. Lead a victim to the obvious place to get murdered. Great.... At least she could add kidnapping to ever-growing resume. She would surely become quite the asset to any gang or hired assassin. Not exactly the profession she trained for.
"Sounds simple enough, but what's the catch? You really need me when one look into your 'beautiful' eyes and he's bound to lose all his senses?" Did she think she was funny. Yes. Oh, how easy that sarcasm found her then, her spirits not dead as he would hope. Darcy had a glass of ice water before him. Well he sure as hell wasn't drinking it. The poor waitstaff that had to serve him, or attempt to while he just brooded, not spending a dime. She perhaps, far too boldly for someone in her position grabbed the glass and brought it to her lips. He was one of the few men she was sure.... She didn't need to worry about drugging her. In a moment, he suddenly reached for his pocket. Harley was... suddenly aware of his every movement.
She did not expect a fucking needle with what inside it?? Heroine? Fuck. Her eyes widen in surprise. She eyed it warily before she picked it up. What kind of weird ass witchy brew was in this? Did it work on Darcy? She nearly groaned. What did he think she was? She examined it carefully, not foolish enough to have someone catch what she was looking at. It looked like a goddamn drug deal. The heavy kind shit and Harley was not at all about that. She was about to give him a piece of her mind but he was already baring his fangs at her like a fucking attack dog, itching for a fight. His instructions were clear and Harley was left baffled. How the hell was she going to pull that one off. That poor guy that she had to.... Trick. It felt like all kinds of wrong. Was she hearing this shit right?
How that confusion only seemed to amuse him more, that closed-lip smile just as disturbing as the one with teeth. Perhaps more so because he was so easy to believe that he was..... Just a normal guy. Trigger happy Darcy seemed to give her some pretty intense eye contact then. It made her think better on arguing his plan. Harley placed that needle into the side pocket of her purse. Darcy fortunately, filled the silence between them once more. It was getting really awkward with him looking at her like that. Oh, she better listen to those far more pertinent details. Great. Arlo the fucking musician? A famous one? Great, another man with the ego the size of Texas. She wondered if she had ever heard of him before. But how she loathed musicians, most of them anyways. Most of them were pricks who'd bang anything senseless. She had to what? Woo him into following her to the dark side? She was a woman, after all, her shirt a little of the swoopy neckline thing going on. Most musicians were hardly picky so long as you gave them attention. What the hell did Risque want with a musician though? What were those other reasons Darcy had so conveniently left out? It left her feeling weird... It didn't matter if the guy was a fancy rockstar, or just your average dude... Did he really deserve being bamboozled by the she-cat? It was a shitty fate. But her fate would be shittier if she didn't attempt to pull this off.
That's the thing with musicians. She also wondered... some of them would happily take the syringe themselves if they thought it was their... preferred poison. Harley sighed, her night was just getting better and better. At least... famous people did most of the talking. Usually about themselves, which meant she would have to play nice. Darcy was really taking a chance here. She frowned, her thinking face apparently when she was plotting a crime and ensuring her own... survival.
"I've got questions.. Two to be exact..." Oh, she was hating every moment of this even though her sharp mind tried to prepare herself for this. "One... what's my name? Surely you gave him something when you set up the meeting. Please tell me you gave him something cooler than Arly, I can't do that with a straight face.... And second.. You invited a girl to dinner and not offer to pay?" There was no way in hell she was paying for this. If he was going to make her sit through... drinks or apps or whatever with this poor random shmo, it better be on his card.
"Also... Darcy..." She questioned, placing her hand flat on the menu, allowing her fingers to run along the smooth surface of the menu.
"Don't the drugs seem overkill for a musician? " Rockstars usually ran on the skinny, harmless side. Perhaps that was the most...... vital information of it all. Was he dangerous? Alright, maybe that was three questions.