The station was as crowded as it could have possibly been. She was used to masses of bodies in a small amount of space, so it really didn't, it really couldn't, bother her. No worse than Hell. Not even close.
She knew that his realm had changed a million times since she'd been cast from it, and with the time difference between the two realms, she'd had ample time to keep up with them. The wads of bills in her pocket, she knew, were more than enough to keep her through a week, if she spent it wisely. She didn't envy the corporate slob she'd left in the alleyway. He should have certainly known better than to consider her a prostitute, and he should have had far more decency than to bed a woman he had not wed before noon on the day of the Christian lord.
Not that she honestly cared. He served her purpose.
She'd bought a pair of black jeans, slightly baggier than she was used to, but comfortable, and the shirt was black as well, sleeveless. It was comfortable. That was all she really gave a damn about. Her sword fit well through the loopholes, the scabbard comfortingly hitting against the side of her left leg, her fingers delicately curled around its breadth, keeping it in check from hitting any passersby. No one need accidentally be slaughtered by the thing. That would be far too conspicuous, and she could not afford the delays it would cause.
People generally got out of her way, saving for the few imbeciles who could not fathom the magic and lethal aura she possessed. They found themselves tripping over the force of her physical blows- never would she move out of the way of a lesser being!
She smiled as she saw him, and he saw her, but there was no emotion in the expression. She hid it well. He considered it a sign of welcoming- he had been warned to expect her. Cropped, golden blonde hair, reminiscent of the Gauls and the Normans, eyes a crystal blue, oozing charm and vile.
He was once handsome. It would make it all the more enjoyable.
Her stride toward him picked up as he moved toward her. When they were barely a breath apart, his wand too far for reach, she gripped her sword, only the dagger length she needed, and unsheathed it, grabbing his face with her left hand and slicing through his neck, effortlessly, with the other.
She continued as though there had never been a pause, leaving his decapitated body spurting blood in the now- panicked station, sheathing her sword and walking away so fluidly that no one even saw her go.
She let out a full fledged laugh as she walked out the doors and down the limestone steps- she hoped his master received the message.