A half an hour later, Neal walked into the pub, and looked around the crowed room for Calla. His eyes finally spotted her, sitting at the bar, sure enough, wearing a short, snug, strapless black dress , sipping a black and tan through a straw, looking around the room for him too. She spotted him just as he walked over to her. Her pale pink lips smiled as he sat down beside her. "Don't you look nice," Calla commented.
Neal had had the foresight, to clean up, change clothes, and comb his hair out with his fingers before going to the bar. He was essentially being pimped out, after all.
"You look nice, too," Neal replied. Her smooth silky chestnut hair flowed behind her bare shoulders, her smoky eye shadow brought out her pale blue eyes. The dress showed off just a bit of cleavage, and hugged her body, showing off her hour-glass figure, leaving her slender legs exposed. Her left arm bore a thin sliver bracelet with a porcine iris on it, showing off her slender arms. Her fingernails were painted with a fresh coat of elegant blood red polish. Neal caught a whiff of lavender and orange peel swimming in musk. "You, ah, certainly know how to pull out all the stops."
"Thank you," Calla said, taking a sip of her black and tan, "Oh, sorry, where are my manners, do you want anything?"
"Yeah, I could go for a drink," Neal replied, "That black and tan any good?"
"Yes,"' Calla answered.
Just than the bartender, noticing the new customer, walked up to the pair. Neal looked over to the man. "I'll have what she's having." Neal told him.
As the bartender walked off to get the cocktail, Calla said, "So I guess you've never been here before."
"What was your first clue?" Neal asked.
"Well," Calla began, "You don't what drinks are good, Jack already said you were new, and Jack didn't know where this place was until I told him."
"Point made," Neal said, the bar tender placed the bottle of black and tan on the bar as Neal said, "So, you and Jack had met up before?"
"A couple of times," Calla admitted, "When I was in town for work. "
"And that work is an assassin?" Neal asked.
"What's with all the questions?" Calla asked.
"I just curious," Neal said, "I've been summoned by my enigmatic, immortal boss in the middle of the night to meet with a glamorous assassin who looks way too young to be in that line work and has apparently taken a keen interest in me. Can you blame?"
"I can try," Calla joked, "And yes, I am an assassin, but I have never done a job on Earth, and I only take jobs that I deem are for a worthy cause, such as taking out a dictator. As for my age, I am eighteen."
Neal tried his best to hide his shock and horror. "Eighteen?" He thought to himself, "But she's the most infamous assassin in eight galaxies, Jack said. How does someone achieve that at eighteen?"
As if to answer Neal's unspoken question , Calla said, "Part of my infamy had to do with my name, or rather, my last name. My father, you see, is the vicious War Lord Claudio Strigoi, who is twice as infamous as I am for his fierceness in battle, and his cruelty and some of his outrageous behavior. One of my earliest memories is walking him letting his favorite wife, Jenna, lick the blood of his latest victim off his hands."
Neal cringed as he pictured the gruesome scene in his mind.
"I know," Calla said, evenly , "But it was all I'd ever known, so I got somewhat desensitized to it."
"Some what?" Neal said in disbelief,'' you just said that like you just accidently walked in on him in the bathroom!"
"And that reaction," Calla said, "I why I don't talk about my childhood. That and I'm trying to keep the an air of mystery about myself, but enough people make the connection for my heritage to become part of street cred, although me and my father aren't on speaking terms at the moment. Same thing with my mother. And all of my stepmothers. I do keep in touch with a couple of my sisters, though. But anyway, I ran away when I was thirteen, trained with the Sisters Of The Golden Skull for two years, left the Temple when I was fifteen and went free lance, and did my first job, never looked back. So enough about me, what about you?"
Neal didn't respond. He was unsure about telling her anything.
"Come on," Calla encouraged him, " I just gave you a brief history of my life. You gotta give me a little something. At least tell how long you've been working with Torchwood."
"They recruited me two weeks ago," Neal began, "But this was my first official day on the job."
"Oh, well, you've certainly had an interesting first day," Calla observed, "Raptors, assassins,..."
"Oh, yeah," Neal agreed, "It's been interesting."
"So, why such the long wait?" Calla asked.
"Excuse me?'' Neal asked.
"If they recruited you two weeks ago, why'd you only start today?" Calla looked like she knew whatever the reason was, it was going to be a great story.
"Before I work with Torchwood, I was a consult with the FBI in New York," Neal began, "Really liked it there, but things took a bad turn and I had to leave. And then that went horribly wrong and I wound up stranded in France. That's when I stumbled on to a Torchwood investigation and when they found out who I was, and I explained that I wasn't intentionally trying to spy on them, Jack figured having someone with my skills could be useful, he gave me a job offer, and I jumped at it. But because of the events that caused me to have to leave New York in the first place Jack had to use a few of his contacts so that I could get here without being arrested."
"For what?" Calla asked, completely absorbed in Neal's tale.
"That's a long story." Neal said.
"Okay," Calla said, deciding not push the issue, she could back to it latter if she wanted, "Then kind of skills do you have? While the members of the Torchwood team usually have some skills in common, each tend to have their own unique talents."
"I'm a con man," Neal responded, deciding to tell the truth for once," And an art thief and the forger. But I was only ever convicted on the forgery."
"Wait, didn't you just say you worked with the FBI?" Calla asked, "I know I'm not from America, but last time I check that was a law enforcement organization."
"I was a confidential informant while serving a four-year sentence for escaping from prison," Neal explained.
"And I assume they were going to throw you back in jail for some bad thing you had done," Calla guessed.
"I've done a lot of bad things," Neal admitted, "But nothing that could possibly warrant the past month. And, I'm not really suppose to tell anyone about this, but Jack came to visit me when I was still in hiding to get my side of what actually happened, and he agreed. And apparently so did the Attorney General."
Calla let out a little laugh. "That one never could say no to Jack."
"I'll take your word for it," Neal said, "So anyway, that was the reason for the delay." He took a gulp of his drink. "So, can we down to business now?"
"Of course," Calla said, than look at Neal in anticipation.
After a moment, Neal asked, "Could you please tell me what the business is?"
"Jack didn't tell you?" Calla asked, seeming genuinely surprised.
"No, he just told me to where to come, what you would be wearing and to be careful." Neal answered, "So, exactly why are we here?"
Calla looked exasperated as she picked up a black leather purse from the bar, and tumbled through it saying, "I'm surprised that I'm surprised. I figured he didn't tell anyone about this." She pulled a small blood red glass bottle and held out so Neal could see it, "This," she explained, putting it on the counter, "I my special brand of poison. Make it myself, from my own secret recipe, a precise mixture of sciaenid, hemlock, rhubarb leaves, and an overdose of sleeping tablets. Kills a target almost instantly. Jack contacted me yesterday asking if he could buy a bottle."
"Why would Jack need to buy poison?" Neal asked, being careful to hide the fact that this development worried him.
"He wouldn't say," Calla said, turning the bottle back and forth, "Normally I wouldn't sell it to anyone one, but knowing Jack he's probably not going to do anything too horrible with it."
"How much was Jack going to pay you?"
"Two grand," Calla answered.
"That seems a lot for a bottle of poison." Neal observed.
"I told you, this poison is special," Calla said, "Made with precise measurements of the exact ingredients, so that it works perfectly. If you even get it a bit off and any of number of things could go wrong, from the target not dying as quickly as you intended, to the batch littlerly blowing up in your face, and trust me you do not want that to happen. But," She took a sip of her drink, "It's very effective. For example, if one needs to kill the tyrant of pitiful excuse of a country, on a level three planet, with this all one would have to do to dispatch him would be to disguise yourself as the Royal Food Tester, sprinkle a little bit on his plate when no one's looking, after you taste it, if you can, but take the antidote beforehand if you can't, and next thing you know, he's dead on the floor, and you escape during the meyley that fallows. Quick, clean, in and out."
"That's a very specific example," Neal said, "That ever happen to you?"
"Maybe," Calla teased, smiling slyly, "And you don't have the two grand, do you?"
"What was your first clue?" Neal asked.
"Well, Jack didn't even tell you why we were meeting, "Calla noted, "And you're stalling."
"I am not stalling," Neal said, in mock indignation, "But yes, all I have on he is nineteen quid." He pulled the money out of his jacket and put it on the counter. "Will it do?"
"Well," Calla said, leaning towards Neal a bit, "That's a far cry from the 2 grand I was promised, but-" She reached out, and ran her hand through Neal's hair, "Perhaps we arrange another form of payment if you know what I mean." She whispered in his ear, "There's a room upstairs. We could, a, rent it for the night."
Neal jerked his head back as he realized what she meant. "Hold on there a second, Calla. You're beautiful, and seem like a great person but...you're eighteen, I'm thirty-five. That's a big age difference."
"But it's legal," Calla said, "You're not gonna go back to jail for it."
"That's not it," Neal replied, "When you hit your mid-life crisis, I'll be eligible for Social Security, or a Pention, or whatever they call it here, I won't be able to keep up with you and this will never work."
Calla leaned back and smiled at him. "Oh, you're sweet Neal, but I wasn't thinking something so-long term." And then she lugged forwards and kiss him. And to his surprised, Neal found himself kissing her back. The two leaned back and looked at each other. "How much does a night cost?" Neal asked.
"Ten Pounds, but it's still really nice."Calla said.
"Might leave me enough to pay for the drinks," Neal said, then turned to bar and called out, "Excuse me, bartender."
The next morning Neal was the first one of them to wake up, holding the sleeping Calla in his arms. He looked over to the brass clock on the oak bedside table, and saw it 6:02. He needed to get to work. He looked over at Calla. She was lying on her side, her body moving from her breathing. She looked so...angelic. He couldn't bring himself to wake her up, but he couldn't leave without telling her either. She sat up, and opened the draw and sure enough, there was a pen and note pad inside. He sat on the side of her bed, and wrote, Had to go to work. Didn't want to wake you up. Sorry.-Neal.
He sat the pad down on the table and walked to space by the foot of the bed, where his shirt had been discarded the night before. The lien felt cool against his skin as he put it on. As he did the second to last button, he noticed the thin pink line that ran down the length of his shoulder now. He had woke up the day before and it was almost completely healed, and Martha took the stitches out, and the only evidence that he was ever hurt was this scar. The scar that last night, after, Calla traced over and over with her finger. Finishing buttoning up the shirt, he walked over to the door, and picked up his jacket, which Calla had ripped off of him before the door was even fully close. As he was putting it on, he heard Calla's voice from behind him saying, "Hey."
He turned around to see Calla lying in bed with a sleepy smile on her face. "Gonna run away before I start crying?"
"No," Neal said, walking back over to her, "Just have to go to work. " He sat down on the edge beside her. "Besides, you said yourself this wasn't , I believe the words you used were "anything so long term.""
"That's true," Calla admitted, sitting up, "But after last night I think I might want to revise that arrangement. "
Neal smiled from ear to ear. "And what would this arrangement be?"
Calla got out of the bed and began to put her underwear back on. "Well, I have to head out today but maybe when I'm back in town, we can meet up like this again."
"So that's all I am to you?" Neal asked, "Someone to mess around with when you don't have anything else to do?"
"No," Calla said, taking Neal's hand and looking up at him in a way that reminded him that even though she was legally an adult she was barely so and still a child in some sense of the word, making him feel a pang of guilt for they did, "It's just I don't know when I'll be back here again and, in case one of us should run into someone else, we should be free to pursue that relationship, at least for now, don't you think?"
"That could work," Neal said, "But before we part ways I have one more thing I want to give you." Then he kissed her again, and she kissed back. When their lips parted Calla said, "Then I guess I," She reached over the bed and picked the bottle of poison up from the bed side table, and handed it to Neal, "Should give you this. You've more than earned it."
"Thanks," Neal replied. Then, sharing one more kiss, they said goodbye and parted ways.
When Neal walked into work, everyone was already there. He started to look for Jack to give him the poison. Seeing Rex, he said, "Hey, Rex, have you seen Jack?"
"No," Turning around. Seeing Neal's slightly wrinkled clothing and the lip imprint on his neck that he had unsuccessfully tried to hide, Rex busted out laughing. "Guess that date went pretty well last night."
Neal said nothing, and walked on. Seeing Violet he gently shook her shoulder. "Hey, have you seen Jack?"
"In his office," Violet said, pointing to the left, and giving Neal a sly smile.
"How could see know?" Neal thought as he walked into Jack's office.
Jack was pacing the floor but looked up when he felt Neal's presence. "Oh," Jack said, walking towards Neal, " Just the person I was waiting on. Come in."
Neal walked in, meeting Jack halfway. He handed Jack the bottle saying, "Sorry I didn't get this to you last night. Things...took a bit of an unexpected turn."
"I can see that," Jack said smiling mischievously, "I did warn you."
Neal had the feeling it was going to be a long day.