"May I take your coat madam?"
A well-groomed staff member extended his hand politely, his voice not too loud as to not disturb her. Sarah smiled; unbuttoning the brown layer of clothing before slipping it off her shoulders to hand it to him.
As soon as she did however, even the worker, well-accustomed to seeing beautiful women, couldn't help but allow his jaw to drop slightly, gawking at the revealed sight before him. His reaction is well- merited, for any man would have done the same; the purple dress Sarah donned that evening left nearly nothing to the imagination.
Sewn with fine quality silk, the dress hugged her body as tightly as a dress possibly could. An overabundant amount of skin could be surveyed; the front of the top hem of her dress resting precariously atop her breasts before circling around her body to stop just inches above her waistline, allowing almost her entire back along with her shoulders bare and uncovered. Her red hair complemented the creamy skin as it cascades over in soft curls. The left side of her dress is slit from her hip all the way down to her feet, allowing her entire left leg to be visible in the ambient lights of the room. One single string suspended the entire dress, the thin piece of thread tied in a knot around the back of her neck.
To complete her outfit, she wore on her feet fiery orange-red stiletto heels, complementing her hair and the amber earrings dangling from her earlobes. Not to mention the Ruger Mark II .22 semiautomatic pistol, equipped with a Hextech Integrally Suppressed barrel strapped around her right thigh.
Sarah smirked at his response to her dress, slightly relieved. Maybe this dress was going to aid her on her mission after all. Her arm still held her brown overcoat, extended towards the staff member who was still ogling her preposterously curvaceous figure.
Raising her fingers to her lips, she softly clears her throat, trying to indicate to the staff member she was still waiting for her coat to be stored. Fortunately for her, more than one well-dressed worker manned the entrance; it would have been quite the aggravation if she had held up a surge of people behind here because of her distracting attire.
Responding to her indication immediately, the staff member quickly grabs her coat, obviously flustered as pink tints his cheeks.
"P-Pardon, mademoiselle."
He bowed deeply, humbling himself considerably as he stepped aside to let her inside.
Sarah chuckled softly as she slowly strutted past him, running a finger along his exposed neck as he continued to bow.
"Thank you dearie. I'll be sure to give you a tip later."
As she left the man steaming behind him, she could hear him yell after her,
"Merci mademoiselle! E-Enjoy your time at Casino Royale Demacia!"
She grinned wider as she headed towards a cashing booth, turning heads along the way, feeling multiple pairs of eyes traversing across her sculpted form.
Maybe this mission was going to be easier than she thought.
Sarah sits at the bar, disconsolate as she swirls the liquor within her glass.
She had been wandering about the casino for hours, mingling pointlessly, participating in card games that she found to be all too easy. During these interactions her eyes had been constantly surveying people around her, searching for the target she was assigned to kill.
"6' 2", mixed ethnicity of Demacian and Ionian. Scar running across right cheek, bluish-gray eyes. Slightly-long black hair," Was what her case file read.
But after a multitude of men had approached her, trying their luck with the some of the worst pick-up lines she had ever endured in her life, not one of them had been the man she was looking for.
She had been anxious, even nervous during the beginning of the night as she walked past the entry into Casino Royale Demacia. But now, the one dominant emotion occupying her psyche was boredom.
Sarah slightly sticks out her lip, pouting to herself as she slowly sips the alcohol from her glass, remembering her orders, while at the same time ignoring the two suited young men a few stools beside her obviously vying for her attention.
Within the case file that held her quarry's physical description, two simple orders were given, both written in dark black pen and circled tenfold by a red pencil;
Walk around the premises, interact with other guests; act normal. Your target will eventually come to you.
The next order didn't even need to be stated, but was done so with all capital letters, the circles of the red pen girding it with a thicker width.
ONCE TARGET APPROACHES, USE ALL MEANS NECESSARY TO DISPATCH DISCREETLY, AND EFFICIENTLY. ORDER OPERATIVES WILL BE UNDERCOVER AT YOUR LOCATION TO REMOVE THE CORPSE.
"My target will eventually come to me," Sarah scoffs. "Might be true if I was looking for a nice one-night stand."
Emptying the remainder of the glass's contents down her throat, she sets it down, rotating it slightly to bend the light filtered through it on the bar's oak counter. With her head rested upon her hand, she feels the warm steel of her pistol pressing against her thigh. With the way things were going, its purpose would be obsolete.
Then, she hears footsteps. From the peripheral of her vision a man leans against the bar counter, one of his legs tilted slightly.
The barman quickly inquires the man's needs, momentarily setting down his work of drying washed glasses.
"A drink for you monsieur?"
"Dry martini." As soon as his words leave his mouth, Sarah's head raises off her hand; her brain had triggered some recognition.
"Oui, monsieur," said the bartender, nodding before turning to acquire his drink.
But before he could get a chance to even touch an empty glass, the man raises a finger.
"Wait…" A slight pause, indicating some thought. Sarah's ears were now perked, her brows furrowed. This man definitely sounded familiar.
"…three measures of Gordon's; one of vodka; half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it over ice, and add a thin slice of lemon peel."
"…oui, monsieur."
The barman turns back to the direction of his workstation, preparing the elaborate order, leaving the man alone with Sarah, who was now deep in thought attempting to dig through her recollections about when and where she had met the man beside her.
"Well, well."
The man had turned on his side, leaning upon the bar counter with his arm. She feels his eyes on her face, his words without a doubt intended for her. That burning feeling of familiarity continued to grow. Still, her sight remains to focus upon the counter in front of her; she pretends not to hear the mysterious man beside her continue speaking.
"You're looking just lovely this evening, Sarah my dear."
At that, her head quickly swivels to the sound of his voice, simultaneously with the arrival of his drink.
"Your drink, monsieur."
"Much obliged."
She looks at him, but his face is concealed by the glass of golden liquid he had begun to drink. But as soon as her eyes met the locks of hair above his forehead, she knew instantly the man standing before her.
His fit build outlined by a black suit, the strong hands that had been such a pleasure to acquaint herself with looking as rough and tan as the last time she had looked at them. Then he lowers his glass, holding the concoction in his right hand as his sparkling bluish gray eyes stare into hers.
6' 2", mixed ethnicity of Demacian and Ionian. Scar running across right cheek, bluish-gray eyes. Slightly-long black hair. And yet, even after reading and re-reading her case file, she still didn't realize who it was.
Sarah audibly gasps.
But now, as he stood in front of her, grinning that seductive grin that had won over her in the past, Sarah's lips were only able to uttered one word.
"S-Summoner?"
