He's been to grander parties than this. Though the piano that was being played in the grand hall was pretty, and the chandelier hanging above his head was a marvelous feature, the wine was not to his tasting. He trailed his tongue at the edge of his glass and watched the dancers sway across the floor. He has women eyeing him, asking for a dance visually. He looks down at his glass and declines.
All night, as he sits off to the side in the large, pearly white hall, he waits for someone. Patiently, because he's been waiting a year for this night.
A year, this location, this house, at this party.
The man drinks his last sip of distasteful wine and sets it on the table near him. He shifts, adjusting the gun strapped to his side underneath his suit jacket, and sits more comfortably. Minutes more pass, and even though he is terribly bored, the moment he has been waiting for has finally come.
He hears chatter to his right, and he listens in closely. His eyes are staring forward, and he doesn't let it be known that he is intently listening to the group of men right by him. Amongst the voices, there is one that stands out to him.
It's deep… and it has a, what did he call it? A smooth, southern drawl?
Tugging at the collar of his suit, the man finally turns to look. He notices the other, walking out towards the dance floor. His eyes meet a man who is very tall and lean. His legs look like they could give a good kick, that would blow anyone across the grand halls dance floor. His hair is feathery and blond, and his eyes are hidden behind an obscure pair of pointy shades.
Underneath those shades is a pair of deep, orange eyes. The man who is now standing behind him remembers them clear as day.
The man chuckles lightly unaware, because the tall gentlemen has not noticed him yet. Funny, he must be teasing. He is standing behind a master assassin after all, he's probably just playing the game as well.
The man takes one more step forward, and now he's almost pressed against the blonds back. His hand lands carefully on his shoulder, and he notices the assassins familiar smirk.
He leans in close, breath hitting the others ear.
"The names English," he says, "Jake English."