The Immigrant Song

See here for more information on the Supernatural RP, or contact Maeglin, ArielButtercup or MissAusten with any questions.

Disclaimer: We tend to be a little more informal around here (as well as infernal): lax with customary RP rules, rough with our language, and generally sacrelicious. We ask only that you play nice, stick to SPN canon, don’t be (too) mean, and do everything in your power to make the game fun for everyone.

Happy hunting!

Callum Murdoch was in Maine for the first time, Pembroke to be precise, and he had never been in the USA before. He was Scottish through and through, minus the ginger hair and kilt, and was quickly discovering that Scotland was a very small place in comparison. It was archaeology that had shaped his life there, archaeology that had brought him to this vast new place, and it was very soon to be archaeology that got him caught up in a whole adventure he never expected to happen. So much for the past being dead and gone.

They were digging a new site, which to the casual observer looked like a whole load of dirt, but to a knowledgeable archaeologist held tremendous potential. There were really only postholes to be seen but that said enough. These were potentially European from say the eleventh century.

Callum’s heart beat faster in his chest as he pondered again the possibility of Vikings in Maine. It would be the discovery of the century. If only they could find proof. Callum scraped away at the earth with his trowel, hoping for something to jump out of the ground at him. He scraped again, grimacing as he beheaded another worm.

Oops, he thought to himself, and then stopped. He ran his trowel across the ground again and this time met resistance. Excitement built in his chest. No matter how many artefacts he found nothing could beat the thrill of finding something new, of being the first person to touch it for centuries. Taking a layer at a time he removed the soil to uncover something dully metallic and highly corroded. He followed the metal into the earth and soon realised that this was a big object. There was some sort of decoration. This was treasure.

Callum called over his colleagues and they watched as he carefully excavated an exquisite sword. It was fully intact and made of some sort of steel, maybe meteoric. Using a fine brush Callum cleaned the hilt off. He bent closer, unable to believe his eyes. Were those runes? Real Viking runes? He took off his gloves and placed a hand on the hilt. There was a blinding flash of red and Callum screwed his eyes up.

“Are you ok?” asked one of the others.

Callum opened his eyes again, unsure himself of what had just happened. He rubbed his eyes. “Just dirt in my eyes,” he said, and leaned back in towards the sword. There were runes on the hilt. He could vaguely make some of them out and recalled his knowledge of Old Norse. This could be proof, he thought.

The inscription was still mostly obscured by dirt but he managed to make out one word, or part of a word. Veg or Vegr: to kill or slay in battle. Callum leapt up and beamed at his colleagues.

“It’s Norse!” he said. “It’s a Norse sword in Maine!”

They began the conservation immediately. This could be one of the most important artefacts in American prehistory. Callum would not leave the sword’s side. He felt some inexplicable bond to the sword. He had found it and he had been the first to touch it. It was the best find of his life. And he was not letting it out of his sight.

After hours of meticulous cleaning Callum finally relented and left the room for a much needed bathroom break. He practically ran there and back. And when he got back, the sword was gone. Callum’s mind screamed and he frantically scanned the room in case it had been moved. He throat was dry and he could hear the blood pumping past his ears. The sword really was gone.

He ran out of the room yelling to the others. No one had moved it, no one had wrapped and boxed it. In fact the last person to have seen the sword was Callum himself. It finally sunk in. The sword had been stolen.

It was like herding cats.

But eventually she got Remington, Fee, Gilmore and Wesson into the den for a confab.

"Okay, small operation here, kids," she began, throwing down a file folder and plowing ahead before Rome could make a smartass comment or Georgie could find any reflective surfaces to look at herself in.

"I need you to check out an auction being held just outside Pembroke, Maine, at a place called Talbot Mansion. It's entirely under the table, so probably a lot of black market stuff, and likely to be full of people with deep pockets and no souls. Eccentric collectors, the Godfather, you name it. Which is why I'm sending our resident high society reps," she nodded at Rome and Georgie, who took long enough debating whether or not to be offended that she continued uninterrupted:

"Indications are strong that at least one supernatural artifact will be there to be sold--and it cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands."

"What kind of indications?" Elenna asked.

"Try five brutal murders in the vicinity in as many days," Tex replied, upset at being interrupted even though it was with a legitimate question. "All hacked to death with a machete or sword. Plus, lightning storms, power outages, it's definitely something in our line of work, and probably cursed. So I want you to get in there, figure out what it is, and get out with it, preferably without getting shot this time. Bring it here, and I'll try to destroy it or contain it."

"It's a good thing we got some shopping in," Georgie told Elenna: "And you'll have to let me help dress you."

"Can I watch?" Rome interjected--it was only a matter of time.

"All right, settle down," Tex snapped. "Up to you how you get in: James Bond or Pink Panther, I honestly don't care, long's you come back in one piece for once."

Allison raised her hand with an uncertainty that belied her FBI background.

"Yes, Miss Aly?"

"Um. What do you want me to do?"

Tex huffed.

"Babysit."

Lenna pulled the skirt of her dress down and slipped out of her heels. “Why did we have to get changed before we are in Pembroke? This dress doesn’t let me breath and my feet are killing me and all I did was sit in the car. It is even that uncomfortable that I can’t concentrate on reading my book.”

Georgie turned around in the front seat. “But you finally look like a girl. You are so pretty.”

“No I look hideous, like your personal Barbie. Why do I have to go to the auction can’t I wait in the motel or even the car?”

“Stop touching your face you mess up your make-up.” Georgie pulled Lenna’s hand out of her face and brushed some dark crumbles from her mascara off her cheek.

Lenna rolled her eyes pushed Georgie hand away and leaned her head against the window. “I still feel friggen hideous.”

"Geez, Lenna!", Georgie sighed. "Your attitude only shows me that you definitely need to practice how to be a girl. I have no doubt that there's potential, but you make it incredibly hard. And don't take your shoes off, only farmers and Californians do that."

"But I'm uncomfortable!"

"You are being childish, complaining the entire time about everything..."

"I'm not complaining about everything, I'm complaining about being forced into a dress that gives me a hard time sitting at all, and the make-up that-"

"Don't say anything about the make-up, it's Chanel and Dior you have on your face!"

Elenna rolled her eyes. "Whatever!"

Georgie looked out of the window, still hearing her friend's mumbling in the background. She was actually glad to go to Maine, since it was one of the New England states, and that always made her feel at home. She had not been particularly fond of being stuck in Mississippi, she definitely preferred the northeastern corner. "At least we'll finally be among some civilized people..."

"You mean the snobs?", Elenna grumbled. "Yeah, can't wait to meet those superficial morons either."

"At least they have style."

"Who cares when they are all shallow douche-"

"Ladies!", Aly interrupted quickly. "You might save your energy for later and not waste it on complaining about dresses and snobby people, right, Lenna?" she looked at her. "Go back to your book." She turned to Georgie. "And it would be better if you don't say anything about dresses and make-up, hopefully that'll keep her quiet for a while."

"Hey, I'm still here, you know? I can hear you." Elenna opened her book but she really couldn't focus on it because she was so busy focusing on her dress until it looked like it had never seen an iron because she constantly wriggled about on the seat.

"Elenna..." Georgie said in a calm, but warning voice.

"What?"

"I can hear it."

"You can hear what?"

"I can hear you ruining the dress, I don't even have to look!"

"Oh, Jesus! What kind of psycho are you?"

"Okay, if you two don't cut it out I'll pull over right here and let you walk the rest of the way to Pembroke," Rome said. "Not even kidding."

Elenna and Georgie crossed their arms like sulky little children and stared out of the window. After a minute of awkward silence a smile appeared on their faces, and they both started to laugh.

Rome shook his head. "Girls..."

"Just--try to--look," Rome spluttered. "We're only about a half hour away now. So let's go over the plan. G, hit me," he tested.

Georgie rolled her eyes and recited like a school kid listing the States and their capitals. "Our cover is Mr. and Mrs. Remington--although I still think it's a bad idea to use your real name."

"Come on, this is like, the one place where the fact that I'm a felon will come in handy. Plus, the Remingtons are a big family, we got an East Coast branch: it'll be fine."

"Okay, your funeral. Anyway, we're supposed to be antique collectors. Lenna is my sister, Elenna Hart. Allison Smith is our bodyguard."

"I still think that's ridiculous," Aly muttered, but Rome laughed. He knew enough paranoid rich people whose bodyguards were practically a part of the family, and she probably was the "perfect man who kills" if any of them were...

"Hang on," Rome said, and pulled the Ferrari over on the side of the road.

"Okay, we'll stop, I'm sorry!" Elenna shrieked, thinking he was making good on his earlier threat.

"What are you doing, Rome?" Aly asked.

He grinned widely at her. "If you're my bodyguard, I sure as hell ain't driving." He unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of the car, walked around, and opened her door for her. "Chivalry ends here for you, Smith. Hell, maybe we should just call you 'Jeeves'."

A bad joke, because Aly didn't pull punches, and her arm shot out at a dangerously low level that he only narrowly dodged. But, she got out of the car and took the wheel.

"Now, Lennie--Elenna," he corrected, "we gotta call her 'Elenna,' no nicknames, and I apologize beforehand because 'Romulus' is not only a mouthful, it's stupid and makes you sound pretentious when you say it. So, Elenna, your turn: remind us of the plan," he demanded.

"ID, steal, bid, mug, it's not hard," Elenna replied petulantly, "or wouldn't be if I wasn't wearing this stupid dress--"

"Details, details, chica--I mean, Elenna--tell us what we're really doing. And we don't use the word 'mug' in polite society, we say 'acquire'."

Lenna rolled her eyes. “Fine, so we ID, steal, bid, acquire. It doesn’t change the plan even if you use fancy words, Romulus.”

It felt awkward to use is full name and not say Rome, but it felt weirder when he said that they can’t call her Lenna or as he often said Lennie or chica. After all the weeks they spend in the Safehouse and okay some other places bonding she felt distanced by using name she wasn’t normally using. She wondered if it was appropriated to call Georgie still Georgie, after all she was her sister right now. But she wouldn’t ask for the correct way of calling her sister in the snob circle. She would play the perfect black-sheep-of-the-family role, then it wouldn’t be that bad if she uses the wrong word, or spoon or friggen napkin at the wrong time.

“So what do we do if there is more than one machete or sword in the auction? Do we ID, steal, bid, acquire them all?”

Rome sighed heavily and grumbled, though he secretly enjoyed being the Jim Phelps of the Mission Impossible team (from the TV show, of course, not the movie). He ticked the phases of the plan off on his fingers:

"One, get inside: they may check us at the door for weapons, so make sure anything you've got on you is hidden well. They'll probably let Allison in with a sidearm. I'll try and get my Glock in, anyway."

He continued: "Two, ID: that's you, Elenna. You're in charge of figuring out what it is we have to steal. Use whatever you got to, EMF, whatever. These kind of things are usually have all the auction items on display for a few hours, cocktails, hors d'oeuvres, then dinner, which probably won't start until 8:00, so we have a while to figure out what it is we're after."

"Five--just kidding--three: steal. We're not going full-on catburglar on this one, we'll play it safe, see how tight security looks, see what we can do. Elenna, play up the Black Sheep number at dinner, shouldn't be too hard, pretend to get drunk, and Allison can take her outside. If there's a chance, nab it. But don't do anything stupid."

"Four--you still with me?--bid. This is up to me and the very hot Mrs. Remington. Between the two of us we have enough greenbacks to sound interesting to these people: it's for a good cause, and if it's possible to get this thing the, ahem 'honest' way, we'll do it."

Rome took a deep breath. "And if that doesn't work--if some shmuck out-bids us and gets to take our happy little ticking time bomb home--well," he chuckled. "We mug the bastard on the way home."

"That was a really impressive speech, dear husband of mine", Georgie said with a sarcastic voice while getting a little pink mirror out of her Dolce and Gabbana clutch bag to check on her hair. "I've never felt more like a criminal."

"Well, who are we kidding here? Technically we are criminals", Elenna looked at her. "Stealing, lying, killing if necessary...that all sounds like crime to me." She grinned.

"If you say so..." Georgie looked skeptically at a single strand of hair that stuck out a little.

Aly chuckled. "It's pretty ironic though. I used to hunt criminals, and now I'm more or less one of them."

"Your grandchildren will be very proud", Georgie said with a smile.

"By the way, Barbie, you're a criminal for forcing me into that dress", Elenna mumbled.

"Correction: I don't force you, the society does. If you would show up in jeans and one of your ridiculous shirts with those offending pictures and slogans on it, they wouldn't let you in and you couldn't do you job, so you see, it's the society that forces you to look a certain way."

Her friend rolled her eyes. "At dinner I'm going to spill or drop something on my clothes anyway. I have to be the back sheep, remember?"

"Well, there's something you can be proud of, sister", Georgie replied cynically. "And I can't wait to finally see good food after weeks and weeks of unacceptable diner food. I hope they have caviar."

"Eww." Elenna made a face. "And you call that acceptable?"

"Well, yes..."

"This is getting better and better. Snobs, uncomfortable clothes, fish eggs! What's next? Did someone maybe hire a swan and squeezed him into a tutu? That sounds like something the rich would do..."

Rome chuckled. "It's only for the job, you'll get over it. And I don't think they hired a swan in a tutu. They probably hired a peacock."

"Very funny, idiot!" She kicked against his seat when Georgie passed her the mirror.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to fix your hair a little, but I don't dare to do it myself so I'm asking you to do it now before we'll arrive."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"What is not wrong with your hair?", Georgie raised her eyebrows while Elenna looked in the mirror. "How did you manage to mess it up like that?"

Elenna rolled her eyes. "It's probably because I didn't use enough conditioner in the first place", she replied sarcastically.

Georgie smiled. "Now, that's a girly answer. I'm really proud of you, little sister."

Lenna ignored everyone for the rest of the drive not because she wanted to be mean, just because she was lost in her book, trying to memorize all possible effects of cursed objects. But then the huge mansion and the even more impressive circular driveway with a fountain in the center let her stare with her mouth open out of the car window. For a moment she even forgot that she was wearing a idiotic dress and annoying high heels.

“Heilige Scheiße. Is that a house? You rich kids really had a hard live growing up in places like this, with thousand rooms, maids, cooks and I don’t know slaves?”

She sounded impressed and a bit jealous thinking about the house she grew up in.

“I don’t have to pretend at all to be the black sheep of the family.”

"Remember everyone," Rome said quietly, with nervous laughter: "Should anyone be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. Good luck."

He waited as the Valet service opened the door for him, and stepped out, preening a little as he adjusted his immaculate suit.

"Name, sir?"

"Remington," Rome said, as he proceeded to tie his tie perfectly without a mirror, "and guests." Without turning, he addressed Aly: "Smith, they'll take the car from here." He allowed the Valet to help Georgie and Lennie from the back seats, watched as Aly handed the car keys over. Then Rome thought of something. Something he'd forgotten. Crap.

But he played it cool. "Pay the man, Smith," he said, and, when Aly's eyes widened in alarm and confusion, Rome started: "Oh!" He laughed, "Well, of course you can't, I haven't given you the--here." Rome pulled out a huge wallet that was bursting at the seams with cash, pulled out a crisp $100 bill, and handed it to the Valet service. After this show, he left the rest of the money in his "bodyguard's" care: obscenely wealthy Romulus Remington wasn't about to carry around his own money!

It was actually absurd. Rome had lived this life, had known how these people lived, was pulling stunts his own dad had been fond of, but he'd never actually valued this life. The only thing money was good for, as far as he was concerned, was stuff, not status, and it sort of disgusted him. And who the hell had a bodyguard, I mean, really? Besides Dr. Venture, but only because Brock Samson was a certified badass. Haha, then that would have to make Elenna Dean, and Georgie would be Hank. Man, the things he came up watching late night Adult Swim cartoons. Okay, serious, Rome, serious.

Although it had been a while since Rome had seen true architectural beauty--and this place was about nine times larger than the home he grew up in--he remained unimpressed with the house, though he gave it a tactical once-over before offering Georgie his arm and proceeding up the steps to the entrance.

They got through the door with relative ease. The invitations were good, so even though they were not on the list, they had only to stand around for a short nerve-wracking period before, amidst profuse apologies, they were escorted in, unfrisked. A guard at the door raised an eyebrow at the Desert Eagle Aly was wearing in a shoulder holster that covered more of her body than her dress did, but either this really was a don't-ask-don't-tell shindig, or those weren't the guns the guy was looking at.

Lenna followed right behind Rome and Georgie and she had a very hard time not to run around with her mouth open. She saw Rome’s home briefly but this was immense. She looked around and tried to concentrate on her job. Even though she was still trying to figure out what hors d'oeuvres were. She as long one Rome or Georgie were around she knew it would be okay, gee even Aly knew better to be around those rich guys.

She walked a bit closer to Georgie. “Um hey sis’, where are the things to buy? All I see are furniture and fittings.”

“Relax we first do the social round and then see all the items on sale.”

Lenna looked uneasy at her, she had a couple of more questions but she felt watched already and tried to fit in at least a little.

The minute Georgie walked in everything felt incredibly well-known. True, she didn't know anyone here so far but it was the entire atmosphere and this very special, indescribable smell of designer clothes that gave her this familiar feeling. She caught some glances of older women who were probably jealous that they could no longer wear a figure-hugging dress, and she caught a view glances of men who were more interested in the figure-hugging dress and the young lady who wore it instead of focusing on their wives.

"Dude, I would feel a lot better if people would stop staring all the time", Elenna mumbled.

Georgie turned to her. "Don't say dude."

"Geez, what the-"

"And don't say geez either."

"Oh my sweet Lord, I feel slightly annoyed", Elenna replied with a sarcastic voice. "Better?"

"Yes."

A servant appeared in front of them, holding a shiny silver tray. "Brioche au Caviar?"

"What?" Elenna stared at the weird finger-food looking things on the tray.

"It's caviar on bread", Georgie explained.

Elenna looked at the servant and quickly shook her head. "No, thank you. I think I'm gonna puke...ahem, pass."

"Look at all those ludicrous, narrow-minded guys around us. We're definitely the most dashing couple here", Rome said with a grin. "It's like being prom king and prom queen."

Georgie was just about to agree when she suddenly felt something weird. Just for a brief moment it felt like Elenna had conferred her emotions on her. She turned around to look at Elenna who walked around with crossed arms and seemed to feel rather insecure. It really felt like Lenna's insecurity was contagious but was she the only one who noticed it? Georgie quickly shook her head and started feeling like herself again. That was a bit creepy though, thinking of the ability to feel what others could feel. Georgie held on to Rome's arm and politely returned a smile whenever someone smiled at her.

Suddenly she noticed her friend staring at a giant necklace that one of the women was wearing.
"Elenna!", Georgie said with a hushed voice. "Stop staring at other people's jewelry like that. They will get suspicious."

"Come on, she's wearing a necklace that could feed an entire country!"

"Lower your voice, people start looking."

"Geez!"

"Ahem...what was that?"

Elenna roller her eyes. "Good Lord of mine, have mercy!"

"Okay, that's a bit over the top", Georgie said.

Elenna sighed. "I seriously want to get out of this hell as soon as possible."

Lenna caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror or was it just some shiny furniture. She shook her head, this dress was hideous, she looked like a black shower sponge and in this tiny red purse didn’t even fit more than her phone, her small EMF, a tiny notepad and a pen, not even a tiny book
fitted into it.

Fine concentrate on your task. Find the stuff on sale and with it the cursed object. I hope it is something really cool, like a fancy dagger.

“Champagne?”

Lenna smiled. “Finally something I know.” She took a glass for once not wondering if it was appropriated. “So sis, can I pick whatever I want from the auction? You know it was my birthday and you didn’t get me a gift.”

Georgie raised an eyebrow. “I know Elenna, I was in Milan and I did apologize that your birthday slipped my mind.”

They finally found the room in which all the objects on sale were on display. Lenna smiled when she saw all the old books. She had already found four she wanted. She was wondering if they could just steal them as well when Rome’s questioning look reminded her of her real task. She didn’t even need to take the EMF out of her purse. Six weeks of nothing to do, okay nearly nothing shopping with Georgie, nearly dying and a weird trip they had no memory of let Lenna and Rome come up with the idea of an EMF that she could mute and that vibrated when it detected something. So all she had to do was walk along the objects and wait until her purse vibrated.

That is not weird at all, to wait for a vibrating purse to start vibrating. I really don’t wanna be here. I wanna go home. Gosh I don’t like rich people, they are annoying.

Lenna smiled innocently at everyone and no one could have guessed that this felt like her worst nightmare or maybe not her worst nightmare but like a nightmare in which you are naked in class or something.

Allison stalked the glamorous halls. The M-9 strapped to her thigh just hovering over the slit of her dress was acceptable.

Babysit, indeed.

It had been a while, but she was still colder than ice when it came to the team. It was a job, nothing more. the only reason she was there and not curled up in bed at Tex's was some warped sense of responsibility--like if she didn't go she couldn't protect them or other bullsh*t like that.

Aly scanned the crowd of fancy fake faces and tried not to let her contempt show on her face. It was a general rule of thumb not to let those you're protecting know you hate them.

She walked by the display of shiny weapons wondering which was their artifact of evil. She could case the place too. She was only trained by the best criminal detection agency in the US. It wasn't like she was an amateur or whatever the others seemed to think.

Her eyes was drawn the the red jewels encrusting the hilt of one particular sword. How easy it would be to just take it and prove to the others she was more than just a hired (more like compelled) gun. Her hand reached out as her eyes admired its beauty and craftsmanship. Despite the ornate design she somehow knew it would be light in her hand--so easy to spill the blueblood around her.

"Excuse me, madam--champagne?"

She blinked, breaking eye contact with the line of weapons, and turned around. Somehow she'd been mistaken as a guest. She wasn't going to complain.

Aly took the alcohol and left the exhibit hall feeling a headache coming on--or was it passing? Either way she needed air and almost bowled Rome over to get to it.

Rome fumed as Aly bumped into him, not caring a bit about his uncharacteristic lack of sympathy. He knew she was still too upset about Raime. She shouldn't have come.

Rome took pride in his long fuse. He didn't have a quick temper--but he did have a bad one. Though it took a lot to get him mad, when he did snap, he snapped hard. And putting him and his girls in danger by risking blowing their cover was definitely a good way to make him snap.

He struggled to play it cool, though, grabbing her arm with a smile and a loud voice to abate the concerns of any viewers: "Smith! Another cigarette break already, ha ha!"

Then he lowered his voice and practically growled in her ear: "Aly, what the hell? You trying to blow our cover or you just want to make Mr. Remington look bad?"

"I just need to go outside for a minute," Aly said, breathy, not really listening to him.

He let her go, forcing the smile again as he raised his voice, "Don't smoke the whole pack this time, you know those things are bad for you!"

Lenna quickly looked at Rome and then Aly leaving when she saw for a moment someone behind Rome. A real piece of eye candy but it was as quickly gone as he appeared. For a moment Lenna considered to search for him but the suddenly vibrating of her purse distracted her. She looked at the object she was standing at and saw the sword Aly was observing before she left.
Georgie was looking at a necklace on the other side of the room, but Rome who looked still a bit mad was close to her. For a moment thinking about how to address him she stepped closer, but not too close.

“Romulus I think there is an object you would consider as interesting. It would be a perfect addition to your collection of antique swords. Would you like to have a look?”

Gosh speaking like this is serious exhausting and where did the hot guy went I totally wanna say hi to him.

Listening to Elenna's pretensions to Society put Rome instantly in a good mood again. If Lennie could play along, they just might sell this.

He clapped her on the back and brought her into a hug, grinning widely. "Of course, sis, let's go take a look! Honey," Rome called, eliciting Georgie's attention, "We'll be right back."

As they walked over to the displays, Rome really did find himself wanting to ask how much that puppy in the window was. They were beautiful pieces, and a couple of them could be the murder weapon they were after: a set of katana, a jungle machete, some medieval-looking sword, and quite a few knives. He wanted all of them, frankly, and had to remind himself that he was here on business.

Elenna's purse began vibrating. He remembered the silent EMF he had helped her build, otherwise he would have told her to answer her phone. "We're nearby," he said quietly. "Which one is it?"

"I'm not sure."

"Okay, well see if you can figure it out. We don't want to look too interested in these things, so I'll go schmooze."

Also, he kind of wanted to schmooze.

Although it had been a while, navigating Society was like riding a bike: it was something you just never forgot. Rome admittedly had to change his angle a bit--he used to play up the playboy, life of the party--and now had to sober up and basically pretend to be his dad. Luckily, his dad and he had had a lot in common.

He even had a phrase, a favorite phrase, to go along with this persona, this fake-real-him, which he hadn't used in over two years: "The name's Remington. Romulus Remington: Like the empire, and the gun."

He does what? Schmooze? Oh God please let it be something with his clothes on.

Lenna watched Rome worried, but all he did was talk and it looked so easy. How did he do that? But the vibrating purse distracted her. She turned back to the set of katana, a jungle machete, some medieval-looking sword, and quite a few knives. Lenna leaned closer down to the displays, the sword was really pretty, there were jewels on it and it was just pretty. She couldn’t explain it but if she would curse an object it would be the sword because it was too pretty not to be cursed.

Wow this might just make sense in my head.

Lenna grinned when she turned around to find Georgie. She wasn’t far away. She touched her at the elbow. “Georgina, may I ask you something? What is schmooze?”

Georgie looked blankly at her wondering if she meant this question for real.

“As a noun it means: A long and intimate conversation. As a verb it means: Talk intimately and cozily; gossip or talk in such a way to (someone), typically in order to manipulate, flatter, or impress them. Does this answer your question dear sister? If you would have gone to college like dad wanted you and not backpacking through Europe you would know that.” A small smiled played around Georgie’s lips, which made Lenna sigh. She stepped closer to her and whispered. “I saw a real yummy guy. Mouth watering.”

Now Elenna got all of Georgie's attention. She raised an eyebrow while a smile appeared on her face.
"A yummy guy, hm? Describe! I want every detail!"

"I only saw him for a couple of seconds."

"Hair color?"

"Dark. Not blonde. Rather brown."

"Eye color?"

"He was in a distance, I couldn't really see it."

"Body?"

"What?", Elenna looked around, hoping nobody would listen to their conversation.

"Is he small, tall, skinny, fat, athletic?"

"Seriously, I feel like I'm sitting in court, bombarded with questions by a crazy lawyer."

Georgie smiled. "Sorry, that runs in my family. So, how is he built?"

"Well, he's taller than me- which is not hard. And he's, I don't know, I think he looked athletic or something. I couldn't really see it under his suit."

"Maybe you're getting lucky and will have some time to check that out", Georgie winked at her teasingly.

"Dude!"

"What was that? Dude?"

"You know what I mean!" Elenna sighed. "And besides, I'm here to do my job, and not to chase after hot guys."

"That doesn't mean that you can't look at them."

Actually Georgie was right, but Elenna didn't want to admit it, that looked unprofessional. She didn't want to let the group down...but she really hoped to see that hot guy again.

"Hey Georgie, sorry, Georgina, did you see the sword that-" Elenna immediately stopped talking when an older lady approached them. She wore jewelry probably as worth as five villas in the Hollywood hills, and smelled strongly like Chanel No 5- Georgie could smell that, Lenna had no clue what kind of perfume it was.

The woman looked right at Georgie and ignored Elenna completely. "You look incredibly familiar, Madam, I swear I've seen you before. What is your name, if I may ask?"

Georgie had the feeling she knew the woman as well, she really did look familiar. Georgie smiled politely. "Georgina Remington. And this is my sister, Elenna."

"Remington?", the lady repeated, still not looking at Elenna. "I'm not sure..." She scrutinized Georgie closely, then she shook her hand. "I am Matilda Kingsley. You have a really lovely dress, absolutely gorgeous."

Georgie held her breath for a second. She did know that woman! When she was 14 her uncle took her to the golf championship (which bored the hell out of her) and the entire time she had to sit next to a woman who were talking about every single expensive restaurant in Paris, she even listed the various menus of those restaurants. After an hour Georgie spilled her coke (by accident, of course) on that woman's white dress. Two years later, she met her again, this time at a polo match (even worse than golf, because Georgie didn't like horses) and that lady started talking about every single expensive restaurant in London. Georgie wanted to spill her drink (this time on purpose) to make her shut up but her uncle caught her before she could do anything. And now that same woman was standing right in front of her.

"Have you tried some of the food yet?", she asked. "It actually reminds me of some I had in Paris. Have you ever been to Paris? If not, you have to go! The restaurants are excellent if you have the right address, of course!"

Georgie cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Mrs Kingsley, I don't mean to be rude but my sister and I have to take care of something." She smiled, giving Elenna a sign.

"Oh yes!", Elenna nodded. "Totally! I mean, yes, indeed."

Georgie shook the lady's hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine."

Georgie turned away from her. "Move it!", she said to Elenna in a hushed voice.

"What was that about?"

"Believe me, you don't want to know." Georgie sighed when she saw that they were far away from Mrs. Kingsley. "Where is my husband, by the way?"

"Probably checking out the beautiful...things you can find here", Elenna said with a smile. Suddenly her smile faded. She thought she just saw him again, that really handsome young man.

"Focus!", she said in a demanding voice.

"What?" Georgie looked at her.

"Not you! I'm talking to myself."

"Wow, there's something new..."

"Shut up!"

"Language!"

Elenna sighed. "Dear sister of mine, would you please be quiet?"

"Well, that sounds better."

Lenna giggled. “You know I think I just saw you for the first time scared, when this woman talked to us.”

“Oh be silent. This woman is a horrible person, and she does know me but I’m not going to tell her…”

Lenna grabbed suddenly Georgie at the elbow and turned her around. “Look there!”

Georgie was about to tell her that it was rude to pull at her arm like this but he distracted her. “I call dibs I saw him first and you are married anyway. Do you think Rome, um I mean your lovely husband can buy him for me? Please I want him more than any book. Did you see the perfect hair?”

Georgie pulled her gaze away from the guy and looked wondering at Lenna. “I never saw you that excited except when you saw the huge book store in the mall a couple of weeks ago.”

Lenna stuck out her tongue at her and tried to keep track of her guy but he got lost in the crowd.

“Where are Rome and our bodyguard anyway. Shouldn’t the dinner start soon? I’m friggen starving.”

Allison let the lecture go in one ear and out the other before glaring him down.

"For all you know, SIR, I was responding to a threat against your life. Next time I might not be so dedicated." She growled and then moved back into the crowd before he could give some half-assed remark about her place again.

For some reason she avoided the exhibit hall altogether, looking more at the people this time and trying to profile a high-society killer among them. She stayed just within eyesight of her charges, but not within speaking range. Rome was after a prize for the night and from the look of things so was Lenna. Was she the only one actually doing her job?

Her stomach rumbled but she supposed guards didn't get to eat. She certainly wouldn't if she were actual secret service and she figured they were treated better than society's hired guns.

"You have a really good taste, I have to say", Georgie said after the handsome guy disappeared somewhere among the other guests. "And that skirt he was wearing..."

"Kilt", Elenna corrected her. "It was a kilt."

"Whatever! It looked nice. I wonder what brand that is..."

Lenna rolled her eyes. "It's traditional Scottish clothing."

"I know that, Elenna. I didn't think 'Gee, there's a freak running around in a skirt', or better: 'There's a transvestite!' I know it's a kilt."

"Then don't call it skirt."

"Who cares?" Georgie looked if she could get another glimpse of him, but there were too many people who blocked the view. "So I guess your Mr Handsome is Scottish..."

"Don't call him my Mr Handsome."

"Yeah, I know I'm handsome, thanks", Rome appeared behind them.

"Believe it or not, but we're not always talking about you", Elenna mumbled.

"I'm sorry, but I find that very hard to believe." He shot her a grin. "Besides, who of these wrinkled Woody Allen's is handsome?"

"That one." Georgie nodded in the direction of a man who looked at least 80. "Could be you in a couple of years." She winked playfully at Rome.

"Thank you, Mrs Remington, I really appreciate your lovely compliments."

"You're welcome, darling."

"Hey, where's Aly?" Elenna turned around. "Wasn't she just behind you?" Suddenly she saw her Mr Handsome again. Only for a second, but that was enough to make her blush.

Georgie felt something weird. Something almost exciting, like butterflies in her stomach - which was weird because she had just looked at the 80-year old guy again, and the fact that she felt butterflies in her stomach at the sight of that man worried her a bit. Then she noticed Elenna's flushed face. That was the second time this evening Georgie felt like she could actually feel Elenna's emotions. But that was impossible. Well, it was more possible than having butterflies in her stomach at the sight of a wrinkled old man who looked more dead than alive... Or was something utterly wrong with her and she was attracted to old, very old guys?

Rome shrugged at the kilted figure the girls were staring at. "Hell, I wouldn't kick him out of bed," he winked. "He kinda looks like the guy who plays Wolverine."

"Where's Aly?" Georgie asked, and Rome was about to reply "If you mean our bodyguard, Ms. Smith, then I couldn't tell you," before he noticed the slight frown in Georgie's features.

"Hey, G, you okay?" he whispered, pulling her close, concern radiating off of him.

"Ahh, hmm?" she asked, playing innocent.

"Are you okay, honey?" he asked, as Elenna began to get concerned and leaned in to listen.

"Yeah, fine," she insisted.

Rome might have pressed the issue, even at the cost of worrying Elenna, if an attractive brunette across the dining hall wearing 40s-red lipstick hadn't caught his eye. It wasn't just that she was attractive (really) but she also looked authoritative. He saw her giving orders to a few of the wait staff, and surveying the area with a tactical eye. To his credit, sometimes Rome could manage to mix business with pleasure.

Sometimes.

Completely forgetting he was supposed to be married, he excused himself from the girls and made his way over to make her acquaintance.

"Romulus Remington," Rome said as he approached, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. She smelled like vanilla. "I couldn't help but be captivated by your presence from across the room." She smiled, so he continued: "Lovely party, isn't it?"

"I should know, I'm the hostess," she replied, in a mouth-watering British accent, like she couldn't get any hotter. "Bela Cohan."

"Ahh, Ms. Cohan, of course. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

She nodded politely, but Rome felt like a bug under a microscope being analyzed for a weakness. "I had been under the impression that the Remington family was not represented on tonight's guest list," she said, he cool blue eyes chilling his spine.

Rome tried not to flinch at that. "Indeed?" was all he said.

"I am pleased to see I was wrong," she cooed. Oh, yeah, she was totally into him. If only in the eat him for breakfast kind of way, but Rome didn't much mind. He had almost let his imagination get away with him before she dropped the bomb:

"Rawson Remington declined my invitation to tonight."

Elenna crossed her arms while the girls watched Rome taking to the attractive brunette. "Seriously? We're here for work!"

"Says the one who can't keep her eyes off Mr. Scotland."

"Firstly, stop giving him stupid names, and secondly, I don't remember going over to him and flirt with him-"

"Because you're too shy", Georgie said dryly.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"This is ridiculous!", Elenna sighed, then quickly looked at Rome and the other woman again. "Come on, he's supposed to be married!"

"Did you expect anything else from him?"

"That chick isn't even attractive!"

Georgie cleared her throat. "Firstly, don't say chick, and secondly, do you have a disturbed perception or is it simply jealousy? She is attractive."

Elenna grunted. "Jealousy? Yeah, right..."

Suddenly Georgie felt a shiver down her spine. She had goosebumps all over her arms. She looked at Elenna, but her friend seemed fine.
"Is it only me or did it suddenly get really cold in here?", Georgie asked.

"Cold? It's freaking hot with all those people stuffed in one place."

Georgie didn't know what it was, she tried to ignore it...and then she saw Rome's face, who was obviously pale and looked like someone had just brought him death news.

"Hey Barbie, you okay?" Elenna had noticed that something was wrong with her.

"It's nothing", Georgie said, rather unconvincing. "I was just really cold."

"Cold? Are you sure it's-"

"I'm always cold, so it' doesn't matter." She tried to look relaxed, but that was kind of hard. "Can you hear what they're talking about?"

"Who, you husband and that bi...brunette?"

"Yes."

"Do I look like I have ears the size of Prince Charles? Of course I can't hear them", Elenna replied sarcastically. Now she also noticed that something seemed to be wrong. "Why does he look at her like that? Should we move closer?"

"To spy on them?"

"Aehm...yes?"

"Isn't that kind of...immature?"

Elenna rolled her eyes. "I don't even want to know how many times he secretly listened to our conversations."

"What?"

"Come on!" Elenna turned around and tried to hide behind a group of large men. Although Georgie felt ridiculous she followed her friend.