So! Here I am, with an update mere days after the first one! ... I think KHR is slowly eating my soul. That or I'm on a rare creativity high, so enjoy it while it lasts. To be honest, I'm not 100% sure about this chapter. Mostly because Reborn before he was Reborn features in this chapter and I'm not sure how I did writing him. I'll be explaining a few things I didn't get a chance to in the Author's Notes, to read that if you get confused. Oh, and I have an important disclaimer thingy there too, so please remember to read at least that part.
Review Response: Dear praxian-press, hi! Here we are in the next chapter! I hope it is interesting! Me too, Writer's Block is a horrible, horrible thing.
Dear Tsukiyoko Natsume, hello! Cool, glad that it made sense. Yay! Hope you enjoy the update!
Author's Note: So, first thing is that Silhouette and Skull hold a conversation early on in this chapter in Cybertronian. I figure that Skull would be able to pull that off using a combination of Mist and Cloud flames that I won't go into right now, but the point is, the Cybertronian is in italics and the random words that are not are ones I fell wouldn't translate into Cybertronian, thus they briefly dropped into another language such as Russian instead. Second thing is that even though she's been Femme Fatale for a long enough time to learn about Flames, you may notice that Skull still refers to them mostly as spark-fire, even if she differentiates it by calling it Cloud, Mist, etc. This is because she's so used to thinking about it in Cybertronian terms, sparks, spark-fire, etc, its a habit she doesn't really notice and doesn't bother to break. As for her having Mist flames as well as Cloud flames, please refer to wolfsrainrules one-shot Femme in the collection Flicker, as that is the story from which I originally adopted the idea of Femme Fatale.
Now on to the important disclaimer that is not in the disclaimer: Wolfsrainrules and Bleach-ed Na-tsu have been wonderful enough to lend me some of their head canons about Flames, the ages of the Arcobaleno (minus Skull, I made up that one), etc. Therefor, if you are not absolutely sure you've seen it in the anime or manga before, assume it belongs to either one of them or me and don't copy it. If you aren't sure, you are free to ask, but yeah, just a heads-up. For a specific example, the concept of Synchronized Skies (doesn't show up yet but it will in a later chapter) belongs to both wolfsrainrules and Bleach-ed Na-tsu. Kapeesh? Cool. On that note, thank you wolfsrainrules and Bleach-ed Na-tsu for you permission and help!
Copyright Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn, Transformers, any terms from their respective universes, or any references made in this story. The only things I own are my OCs, my adopted interpretation of Skull, and the plot.
Second Stanza: In which the Femme Fatale Meets the World's Greatest Hitman
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Year: 1974. Season: Summer. Location: Italy. Age: 17.
Rodrigo Pessolano's summer ball was an extravagant, gleaming, boring affair. People chatted, couples danced, and wine flowed while insipid gossip, political intrigue, and sordid love affairs all stifled the air with their sheer banality. The rich mingled with the rich, the young flirted with the young and the old paired up the young for the sake of money and prestige without the consent of their offspring. All in all, it was an averagely glorious affair exactly like all the previous ones had been.
At least until Rodrigo's body was found on the nearby balcony with a hair-stick through his heart when he had been talking to various guests just minutes before and everyone started to scream and flee in panic.
As Milena let the flow of the hysterical crowd, the one she had stirred to an exaggerated frenzy with a subtle application of spark-fire, sweep her out and past the guards who were attempting to stop and corral the mass of terrified humanity, she admitted privately to herself that this felt like an improvement.
Though if she didn't get out of the crowd soon, she might just lose her professionalism and rack up the death toll with her remaining hair stick and her high heels just to clear out some personal space. No, bad Milena. No hurting the innocents just because of your instincts. It isn't their fault that their host was the Don of a minor Famiglia dabbling in the human trafficking circuit who ended up trying to sell a member of a powerful Famiglia by accident. Or that said powerful Famiglia put out a revenge hit on them. Or that you accepted it. Or that you made them panic to provide you an escape cover. So really, this your own fault.
The crowd finally carried her into the sprawling lawn outside the mansion and Milena detached herself from it with all the speed she could muster without resorting to throwing or dropkicking people.
Finally free, Milena darted into the hedge-maze that decorated the left side of the front lawn. Once she was out of sight behind the tall hedges, she kicked off her high heels, tucked them into her glitzy hand-bag, and sprinted in tights-clad feet to her preplanned exit point. The stone wall surrounding the estate was high, but it wasn't high enough to block her Cloud spark-flame enhanced jump. She sailed over the wall and hit the ground with a light thump in the narrow aperture between the mansion walls and the town house next to it.
Milena glanced around quickly to ensure that no one was around too see, closed her eyes, and shifted.
A moment later, the twenty-eight year old woman with long, curly red hair, dancing green eyes, and a rich emerald dress of the latest fashions had been replaced by a nondescript woman of indeterminate age with dark brown hair, grey eyes, and ordinary civilian clothes. Milena instinctively shivered at the feeling of her secondary spark-flame changing its flow to alter her appearance, but quickly shook off the sensation and set off for her next destination.
It was something she had developed during Silhouette's intensive training. Silhouette had emphasized flexibility in personality, appearance, and manner to the point where Milena's very spark had changed to accommodate the teachings.
Her spark-fire, or Dying Will Flames as she now knew they were called, was still primarily dark purple, Silhouette had stressed the need to always retain a core personality underneath the layers or else risk drowning in her own lies, but now there were wisps of indigo Mist spark-fire mingled in it, anchored to it. A physical manifestation of her desire, and ability, to hide behind other people's own preconceptions without sacrificing her core.
No one noticed her as she flitted down the shadowed streets, blending in with bar-goers and other denizens of the city's nightlife on her way to her hotel. She would have to wait until tomorrow to return and get her pay for the hit. The ports were mostly closed now, and the ferry wasn't scheduled until tomorrow morning anyway.
Which meant, if she was lucky, she'd be back with the circus in about five days. That would please Silhouette.
Milena paused as the hotel came into sight, assessing it for activity before she took a deep breath and slipped behind Mirror #12. Her footsteps went from sure and silent to unsteady and loud, her posture and gate sagging from a straight-backed, lethal state to a hunched, lurching thing and her gaze went from sharp to glazed.
The man manning the hotel desk barely spared her a glance as she wobbled by and staggered up the stairs. She was just another visitor to the city, going back to her hotel room after too much drinking. Even if she was a woman, she was still not really anything of note.
Certainly not a sober, professional assassin coming back from a successful hit.
She continued to hide behind Mirror #12 until she was safely in her room, with the door locked, all the rooms subtly swept for unwanted visitors, and the windows checked for forced entry. Once she had established that she was truly alone and her room was secure, for a civilian hotel, she dropped the mirror and flopped onto the bed.
She clicked her teeth lightly, flooding her throat muscles with spark-fire in a special way before she commanded in a language of clicks and whirrs, "Open channel, Bright Spark to Silhouette."
There was a pause, a click, and Silhouette's familiar grindings and warbles flowed to her through the tiny com unit she had built to fit in Milena's ear, "There you are, Bright Spark. How'd it go?" Milena smiled thinly at the casual tone with which Silhouette spoke. She sounded more like she was asking how Milena's shopping trip went rather than how easily she had killed someone.
She had gotten involved in assassination work by accident really. It had been two years ago and Milena had been no stranger to killing people for defense or with "dying" herself by that time. However, while wandering around in the seedier parts of the city the new circus was visiting, she had stumbled across a bar with … unconventional wanted posters. She hadn't said anything about it at the time, but listening in revealed she had stumbled on an underworld bar in which she definitely did not belong. Not long after that, she had been accosted on her way home by one of the men from the wanted poster board.
He had made it very clear that he had wanted to sexually assault her and had generally fragged her off to the point where she accidentally killed him while simply trying to incapacitate him. She hadn't wanted to go to all the trouble of hiding the body or going to the police, because she trusted police about as much as she trusted a wild bull elephant, so she'd dragged the body back to the bar and asked where she needed to take it in order to get the reward.
The bartender had been impressed enough to walk her through the steps for claiming the bounty and … things had just spiraled from there somehow until she had been given a pass to the moving island Mafia Land by a particularly grateful Famiglia and she'd been faced with the choice of either joining the Hitman's Lodge or the Assassin's Guild. Because walking away from the underworld once one was in it was impossible. Plus, she'd somehow already developed too large of a reputation as a professional killer to join the Thieve's Corner or the Information Station where the information brokers worked.
Pity, she would have enjoyed stealing things for a living. There wouldn't have been nearly as many insipid parties and infiltration work involved. Plus, washing blood-stains out of her clothing was annoying, ability to hide it with Mist spark-fire or not.
"It went well. Target is offline, people panicked, no one noticed me leave. How was the performance of the Great Skull De Mort?"
Silhouette gave a brisk laugh, "You doubt the Great and Immortal Skull-sama? His act is the most popular and daring of all acts and people flock from all around to bask in his amazing presence!"
Milena laughed softly at Silhouette's sarcastic impression of the identity they had crafted for her. Skull De Mort, male, stuntman and showman extraordinaire with an ego as large as his skill was great. He was arguably the famous circus stuntman in all of Europe by now, with a growing reputation in Japan and even China. Never seen without his special stunt uniform, and with purple hair, vibrant purple eyes, and piercings that made an impression on all who saw him.
It was a hard identity to maintain sometimes, but worth it for the safety it brought and the opportunity it gave her to keep her father's memory alive by following at least a little bit in his footsteps.
Silhouette's voice dropped back to a normal pitch, "Seriously though, I will be glad when you return. It is tiring to be both the bike and the stuntmech."
Milena sighed, "I know. I'll be glad to be back too. Being away for so long is…" Her voice trailed off and she rubbed her chest absently. Sometime over the years, she had formed something that Silhouette called a spark-bond with her Cybertronian sister. It was some kind of eclectic mix between Guardian-Ward and Sibling, and it made spending prolonged periods away from Silhouette agitating. Sometimes even painful.
Silhouette purred softly over the com, trying to send soothing feelings over their stretched-thin bond, "I know, Bright Spark. It is uncomfortable for me too. But it is necessary and it is also almost over. How soon will you be home?"
Milena smiled again at the ceiling, "Five days if everything goes well."
"I'll expect you in a week or two then."
Her smile turned into a pout, "Hey now. My luck isn't that bad."
Silhouette practically chirped, "Oh really? What about that time in Iceland-"
"It was just a little blizzard."
"-Or that other time in America-"
"No one saw me! The mech didn't deserve to reproduce anyway."
"-plus that time in China-"
"Which was not my fault, and the Triad gave me that huge sum of money as an apology for putting out that mistaken hit on me. None of those incidents were my fault!"
"Bright Spark."
"…Yes?"
"The Sicily Scandal."
Milena glared at the ceiling for a very long time before she hissed between her teeth and muttered, "I still say it was his fault."
"Bright Spark, sweetling, he did not deserve to be convinced he was a cat in the middle of a very formal banquet for two hours. In his protoform. Just for flirting with you."
"He scared off my target."
"You are a very pretty girl, who was disguised as a very pretty femme."
"I had to wear a dress, Silhouette, a dress that was essentially a tube with ruffles on it and showed off way too much cleavage, while walking around in High. Heels. Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk in a silk tube with high heels and not only not fall on my face or rip the dress but look attractive while I'm at it?"
Milena almost could hear Silhouette rolling her optics, "I have no idea."
"Then you have no right to lecture me."
Silhouette sent a burst of static as a sigh and Milena coughed slightly. She was getting better at speaking in Cybertronian without sounding, according to Silhouette, like a youngling with a heavy lisp, but it put more strain on her vocal cords than she liked.
Silhouette picked up on the sound of the cough immediately and asked in concern, "Do we need to stop?"
Milena huffed unhappily, "Probably. I need to recharge anyway. The next ferry for Mafia Land leaves early next cycle and I'm going to need patience for all the paperwork I'll have to deal with."
"That is a natural side effect of taking on seven jobs in the span of three months, Bright Spark."
Milena rolled over onto her side, "Worth it. Now I won't have to worry about my quota for at least the rest of the year. Anyway, I'll be back soon to take over as the stuntmech. There should be a ferry docking in Spain two days after tomorrow, so I should be able to catch the circus right after you cross the French border."
"Uh-huh." Silhouette's skepticism was both clear and, in Milena's opinion, rather uncalled for. It was not her fault that things tended to crop up during jobs or on the way back from them that required a detour or a delay. Really.
Gritting her teeth slightly, Milena growled, "Good night, Silhouette."
"See you in two weeks, Bright Spark."
"Frag off."
The com channel closed and Milena's eyes drifted shut in exhaustion, falling asleep within minutes of ending the conversation with her big sister.
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Year: 1974. Season: Summer. Location: Mafia Land. Age: 17
Mafia Land was being invaded. Again. As irritating as it was that the island being invaded was an occurrence that happened a lot more than Milena would have liked it too, to the point where it became mundane for the natives, that wasn't the point right now. The point was that the idiots who decided they were strong enough to forcibly take over the neutral grounds of every other respectable Famiglia on the planet had decided to blow up a few of the ferry boats on their way in to "prevent escape".
Including the one Milena had been planning on boarding to go to Spain. Which meant she was going to have to not only wait until the invasion was over, but also until they reached the next scheduled port that was reasonably close to the route the circus was taking.
Fraggit. Silhouette was never going to let her live this down.
Now thoroughly unhappy, as in Cloudy Unhappy, Milena did the only thing she could to both burn off her ire and hasten the resumption of Mafia Land's normal schedule. Namely, channel her enraged Cloud spark-fire into her vengeful Mist and use that to remove the ability to reproduce, or breathe, from some idiots who did not deserve those privileges.
Milena ghosted through the combat-rife streets, her form shifting and blending seamlessly with each new situation without her conscious guidance as she hunted down opponent after opponent and removed them.
She slipped underneath the guard of yet another idiot who thought that because she was a woman who didn't have a weapon as obvious as a gun or a sword she was an easy target and punctured his heart. He dropped to the ground with a gurgle and Milena ducked behind cover before anyone else could notice her in the chaos. Honestly, her inner Mist complained, people are so uncreative. Why did they think she wore coils of wire as bracelets and carried a box of toothpicks everywhere? Or a tiny letter opener shaped like a sword? Then again, they had no idea that she was a Cloud who could, say, propagate the force and momentum of a toothpick to the point it could puncture two inches of steel.
A fact she wanted to stay a secret, thank you very much, thus the reason she idly picked up a random pistol from the fingers of a dead invader and searched his pockets for the ammo. Finding a few bullets in his pockets, she studied one closely before tucking them in her pockets for later use.
If she absolutely had to, she could create new ones out of her Cloud spark-fire. But only if she had to.
She darted down another side alley, her form shifting from … whatever it had been before, back into her cover identity for picking up jobs on Mafia Land. Namely, Mirror #2. Long black hair in a braided bun, hooded brown eyes, features that could be either European or American or even English in origin and a tendency to speak in German if she spoke at all.
Mirror #2 was known by many aliases in the Mafia world. Some were names, some were epithets, none were confirmed or denied as her real name or title. She had gained quite a rising reputation for being an expert assassin while using Mirror #2. Mirror #2 was known to be a powerful, tricky Mist, a rumor she had helped fuel by randomly shifting appearances while in conversation with information brokers or the Assassin's Guild clerks.
Whenever she did public shifting to establish her reputation Mist, she made sure to layer the illusion externally, like was expected of a Mist rather than anchor it internally as was her automatic habit.
A man wielding a bardiche of all things, leading a group of five other men all armed with the same weapon, surrounded her the moment she rounded the corner. She idly cocked back the hammer of her pilfered revolver, the sound and sight of it hidden from their eyes under Mist spark-fire, and raised an eyebrow as she murmured in a low alto, "Kann ich Dir helfen?"
The men scoffed, one leered and murmured something about just how she could help his desires to the man beside him while the leader sneered, "Oh, sure, you can help us, bi-"
A gunshot, not hers, cracked the air and the leader dropped to the ground with a hole in his temple. The others whirled in the direction of the shot, bardiches rising defensively, their backs now to Milena.
Her Cloud instincts screamed to end the fight now, to spill their blood while they were unprepared, but her Mist side perked up in curiosity on who had come to her "rescue" and what they would do next. The "rescuer" in question was a sharply dressed man with black hair, rather … unique sideburns, and glittering black eyes. He smiled thinly at the bardiche-wielding men, "Now, now," he purred in italian, "that's no way to treat a lady."
His rich voice and chosen language made her twitch to shift behind Mirror #14 for safety, but she resisted for the moment. She had no desire to fight in high heels, illusionary or otherwise.
One of the men snarled a death threat, to which the stranger with the gun retorted with a much more cleverly worded one. Milena rolled her eyes as her Cloud side grew too impatient and her Mist side grew bored with the conversation. Her hidden double-action revolver went off five times in rapid succession, dropping each enemy with a single shot to the heart from behind.
The Italian had tensed fractionally when the shots went off, but then he relaxed and smiled beguilingly at her, "Well," he had switched over to german, probably having overheard her sarcastic question to the now-dead invaders, "Here I thought I had found a beautiful woman in need of assistance, but I see I was mistaken. You are quite capable with that revolver, Fräulein."
Milena opened the revolver cylinder, emptied it of the expended cartridges, and reached into her pocket for more. As she reloaded it with quick, efficient movements, she replied calmly, "Oh, I don't know, the sixth one would have been an annoyance. I only had five bullets left in the cylinder."
The Italian narrowed his eyes briefly and Milena waited expectantly to see what he would do. A twinkle of something like mischief and interest passed through his eyes and his voice dropped to a rich purr again, "Feel like partnering up? It would make the job faster and more … pleasant."
While his tone of voice coupled with italian words had made her reach instinctively for Mirror #14 earlier, this new tone and the guttural sound of the german language had her reflexively pull up Mirror #20. She dropped it a moment later, but by the minute widening of his eyes and the instant comprehension in his expression, she knew he had seen her hair flash to frosted blond braids and her eyes to periwinkle blue before she had shoved it down and reset to Mirror #2. She kept her face and stance relaxed, as if she had always intended to partially change her appearance.
His shoulders had grown fractionally tense with his realization, but his voice was actually warmer and more normal than before, "Ah, so you are the infamous Femme Fatale."
A low bark of laughter escaped Milena's lips, "Is that what they're calling me these days? Hmm, better than the last titles. I think I might actually like that one."
The man gave a slight bow at the waist as they moved on, falling into step with each other without thinking about it, "I'll be sure to pass along news of your preference, Lady Fatale."
Milena tipped her head in his direction lazily as she scanned for new targets. There were a lot less targets than when she had started, so perhaps the invasion was almost over, "My thanks. But your name would be…?"
The man bowed at the waist even as they walked, his weaponless hand doffing his black and yellow fedora as he flashed her a charming smile, "But of course. Call me Renato, Renato Sinclair."
Milena mentally sat up at that. Renato Sinclair was a very well known and feared Hitman, one of the best in his business, with an infamy even greater than her own. Hiding her wary interest, Milena warped the framework of Mirror #14 around Mirror #2 and murmured richly, "Ho? I suppose I should feel honored. Not many make your acquaintance and live, Master Sinclair."
His smile took on a devilish, smug air that spoke of how he enjoyed her words even as he retorted, "The same can be said about you, Lady Fatale. Few assassins have ever risen in fame and status so quickly, fewer still have survived such a quick rise to infamy."
Milena tilted her head a fraction to the side to acknowledge his words, "One cannot kill a target that cannot be found. You, however, do not hide behind the Mist, yet you thrive in your power and skill without falling."
Sinclair chuckled, "I am the best."
Milena flawlessly poked a hole in his ego, albeit a tiny one, "Of Hitmen, perhaps."
There was a pause in their conversation as they finally located another pocket of enemies and proceeded to demolish them. The fight was short and heavily one-sided, with more of Milena's focus on watching just how skilled Sinclair was and visa versa. She flowed from mirror to mirror as she danced among her targets, her Reflective Mirror having given her the opportunity to get close to them.
Sinclair's gun went off three times, once for each selected target, before he ducked behind cover to avoid the retaliation. The rain of bullets pinning Sinclair down quickly ceased as Milena slipped in among their ranks, her Reflective Mirror convincing them she was one of them until she had taken one man's knife out of its sheath and slammed it into the base of his skull. She performed two more such back-stabbings before they figured out they were being assaulted from behind.
A generic masculine figure and the uniform of the invading Famiglia instantly gave way to her favored combination of Mirror #2 and Mirror #3, allowing her to duck under the waving gun barrels and sweep a man's legs out from under him in a blink.
With their focus turned toward her, Sinclair instantly stepped out from cover and opened fire again, his pistol cracking out several snap shots that thinned the herd surrounding her. Confused, shouting, and now frightened, the group scattered, some turning to attack Sinclair, others remaining focused on Milena.
Milena used the bodies and momentum of her attackers against them as she twisted and danced around their blows, her stolen pistol occasionally letting off a shot to take down someone too far away from her legs to trip and her fists to crush the throat of.
One dropped his gun and lunged at her with a snarl. Rather than sidestep as would be expected, Milena dropped into a low crouch and snagged his ankles, forcing him to flow over her back and shoulders with a rush of air just as another man opened fire on her. The bullets meant for her buried into the unprepared back of her meat shield, who she promptly dropped in favor of shooting the idiot who had just killed one of his own.
The man hit the ground with a thud and Milena glanced around in the sudden silence. Her inner Cloud snarled faintly at the lack of a challenge while her Mist snorted over the stupidity that had killed most of them. Her eyes flicked to Sinclair as he reloaded his pistol and commented, "Well, that was disappointing. I swear these invasions get become less and less of a challenge every time they happen."
Milena walked over to his side, her hair sliding back to black rather than the bloody crimson it had unconsciously shifted too at using Mirror #3. She made a mental note to work harder on that. Intentional appearance shifts were useful, but shifting every time she used a Mirror with strong personal memories and connotations attached to it could turn into a fatal tell.
Her basic mirrors and supplemental mirrors didn't pose that risk, she had no real personal attachment to them aside from their usefulness. But Mirror #3 and other mirrors that Silhouette had trained her to build were both stronger and harder to subtly combine because of the memories that went into them. It had taken her months to effectively combine Mirror #2 with Mirror #3 without her Mist spark-fire going completely crazy with her appearance. Oh well, more time spent with Silhouette and her crazy training methods.
Her face twitched briefly into a scowl at that thought and she resisted the urge to shoot one of the bodies. Instead, she replied to Sinclair's comment, "That's because the Famiglia's who had even a slight chance at taking over have already been wiped out."
Sinclair nodded in agreement and then sighed faintly through his nose, "Pity, as I did have somewhere to be today and the ferry schedule always gets messed up after an invasion."
Milena felt a flash of both sympathy and vindictive pleasure that she was not the only one inconvenienced, "Same."
Sinclair tilted his fedora slightly as, before he could say anything else, the alarm blared all over the island again, signaling the end of the invasion and that everyone could go back to their normal routines now. Well, could resume normal routines if the person hadn't been planning on using one of the now-demolished ferryboats.
Milena unloaded her stolen pistol and tucked it away in the pocket of her pants. It was a surprisingly good one, and she planned on keeping it in her locker on Mafia Land just in case she ever needed it for a job. Her remaining bullets went into her other pocket before she looked up and shot Sinclair an expectant look. She had thought he would wander off to find somewhere to wait out the cleanup now that the invasion was over, but she hadn't sensed his presence leave.
Sure enough, he was still standing there, watching her with his pitch black eyes and a thoughtful, cunning expression on his face. Milena raised an eyebrow as she wrapped Mirror #14 around Mirror #2 again, but kept the framework of Mirror #3 attached just in case he was planning to try something.
Sinclair's expression relaxed and he held out his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, "Since we both appear to be delayed in our normal travel plans, perhaps you would consent to spending a little more time in my company, Lady Fatale?" Her eyebrow crept a fraction higher in expectation and he added temptingly, "I know a very pleasant little coffee and pastry shop not far from here that would serve as a convenient place to wait out the cleanup operations."
"I don't drink coffee." She really, really didn't. Bad things happened when she drank coffee. Bad, crazy things that she could never remember afterward but had both Silhouette and the entire circus she worked with as Skull banning her from drinking caffeinated beverages Ever. Again.
Seeing as how there were still singe marks the shape of her footprints on the inside of the Big Top tent's ceiling, she never bothered to argue with the rule.
"They serve various kinds of tea as well. They also sell a very interesting lemonade blend over the summer." He gave her a smirk that made her knees slightly weak from behind her mirrors, not that he could see that.
Curiosity poked at her and she finally accepted his arm and shot him Mirror #14's most winning smile, "You're paying, Master Sinclair."
Sinclair looked vaguely insulted that she even had to point that out, "I am a gentleman, of course I'm paying."
Milena let a low, throaty chuckle roll from her mischievously upturned lips, the perfect picture of a Mist who had finally found someone entertaining. She didn't know it, but in that moment, she made Renato Sinclair feel just a tiny bit weak-kneed as well.
Though if either had had any idea just how much trouble they would drag each other into over the years, they probably would have been much more inclined to walk away or shoot each other than flirt in german for the next two hours in the small, Mafia Land coffee shop down the street.
So? How was that for the first meeting between the Femme Fatale and the World's Greatest Hitman?