Twenty minutes later he was handing the keys off to a chauffeur with an idle threat and heading through the front doors of the museum where the auction was taking place.
"Now, I've been doing a little research into Ms. Hanover, and it boils down to talking to her about three things; guns, immigrants, and the poor. Positively, negatively, and negatively, respectively. You'll be good on the first part," Lorna murmured to him as they stepped into the main hall, eyes already scanning the crowd for people she recognized. Hopefully, she would be unrecognizable to anyone who had seen her before, but it was always wise to be cautious. "It should be easy to get her to invite us over for drinks sometime. She's a heavy alcoholic."
"Seems like we'll all three get along swimmingly," he said with false brightness, looking around as well. "If I remember correctly she's a bit toadish, isn't she? Like Umbridge." He caught the look. "What? Who hasn't seen those movies by now? I've been bored."
"No, no, you're right, I shouldn't be surprised. You own the extended edition of the Lord of the Rings movies," she chuckled. "But yes, she's short and squat, and wears those awful pink dresses that politicians wear that look like they've been made out of a sofa."
"Sometimes I question people's existence," he said almost absently as he continued to look around. He sighed. "Is it just me, or did everyone's grandmother have an armchair exactly that pattern?" he asked, nodding towards a short woman across the hall from them.
She had to stifle a giggle-snort. "Nope, nope, that's not just you, I think I know who took my grandmother's sofa off the curb," she smirked, tearing her eyes away from the woman to look for Hanover. "There she is. In the corner."
He nodded. "How do we ingratiate ourselves?" he asks quietly, beginning to move in that direction.
"Tell her the truth; we did some research on her and wanted to get to know her," she replied, giving the slightest shrug.
He nodded slightly. "I suppose that works," he murmured. "I'll let you make the introductions, shall I?"
"Sounds fine to me," she replied quietly, putting on a big smile as they approached Hanover, who turned away from another conversation just in time to see them coming. There was, of course, the split-second flinch that everyone gave when they saw how scarred they were. She hated it, but there was nothing she could do about it. "Hi!" she beamed as they stepped into hearing range, sticking out a hand to shake. "I'm Lana McGuire and this is my husband Sebastian. We heard you were going to be here and decided we had to make your acquaintance. We share similar values, you see."
Hanover gave a curious smile, taking the offered hand. "I'm glad to hear I've made an impression. It's been a long campaign."
She offered her hand to Sebastian once she'd shook 'Lana's', and he took it, trying to gauge how firm it should be based on hers. He was aiming for just a bit firmer, but she was the dead fish sort of shaker, so he just settled at "barely gripping" and still got a raised eyebrow.
"I'm sure it has. We would have liked to have helped out during, if we hadn't been abroad at the time," Lorna smiled, wrapping an arm around Sebastian's waist, really displaying the we really haven't been married all that long so look how infatuated I still am with him vibe.
Hanover gave a gracious smile, which looked out of place on her Umbridge-like face, and shook her head. "No worries, dears. Never too late, I always say!"
Sebastian slipped a protective arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side a bit. "We'd be happy to help. Your work for gun rights is particularly exciting."
Haley beamed, taking a large sip from her champagne glass. "Oh, marvelous! I love it when I meet new people with similar interests! Perhaps we could have a day at the shooting range sometime!"
"Oh, I'm sure Sebastian would love that," Lorna grinned, squeezing his side.
Oddly enough, it actually did sound enjoyable. He managed something close to a pleasant smile. "I would. Shooting is one of my favorite sports." He glanced at Lorna with a grin. "I've attempted to get my lovely wife involved, but she never seemed to love it quite as much."
"I enjoy the finer things in life," she smirked, leaning against him. "But I don't mind watching and cheering from the sidelines. Drink in hand, of course."
"The only way to go about most things, I find," Hanover grinned, raising her mostly-empty glass in a casual toast. "So! You obviously know a fair bit about me, tell me about you."
"What's there to say, really?" She laughed, shrugging a little. "My family has always been involved in the fringes of the politics around here, and we were abroad, traveling, and I woke up one morning and thought, 'what am I doing? I have no purpose!' So we decided to come on home!"
Moran gave a nod, glancing in Lorna's direction. "She's very driven. I wasn't interested at first, but she's pulled me along for the ride and now I'm just as invested."
"That's wonderful, dears! Do we share any other interests?" the squat woman asked, still with the exact same smile.
Lorna leaned forward a little bit, conspiratorially. "I'm a little concerned about... the immigration problem here. I didn't realize it had gotten so bad," she stage-whispered, looking around a bit nervously.
Moran nodded in agreement, lines in his face hardening to their usual set. "I didn't fight for this country just to see it infringed upon."
Haley nodded vigorously. "I couldn't agree more. They need to fix the issues in their own countries rather than just hiding here and leeching off of our taxpayers."
Lorna fought the urge to let her face morph into one of disgust. She'd grown up dirt poor, with a wanna-be kingpin for a stepfather and a mother who didn't have the guts to do real crime, and once she'd started smuggling, she'd gotten to know more than a few foreigners. Most of them, like her, were only doing it so they had a leg to stand on. Most of them, unlike her, wouldn't hurt a fly. She didn't like to speak ill of the innocents in the drug trade, immigrants or not. "Absolutely awful, isn't it? Just because we're civilized doesn't mean we want those dirty heathens mucking up the place!"
"Exactly, dear. Exactly." She shook her head slightly, then looked up as a voice came over the loudspeaker. "Sounds as though they're starting the auction. We'd better go- don't want to miss anything. I've got my eye on a few pieces." She chuckled.
"We'll be right over - we have to discuss what piece we're going to go in on," Lorna smiled, pulling a business card smoothly out of Sebastian's chest pocket and handing it to Hanover. "Here, you can contact us here. We can set up a little get-together some time!"
"Sounds like a plan. Lovely meeting you both!" she said cheerily, toddling off.
"I have an odd mixture of like and hate for that woman," Sebastian murmured. "Mostly hate."
She smirked, winding her arm through his again and heading the opposite direction as the rest of the people. "You only like her a little because of her penchant for guns, you know it."
"True," he admitted with a nod. "We'll see how genuine that is when we meet for shooting, I suppose. Something tells me she might just be there for gin, not guns." He snorted slightly.
"I can settle for some gin," she muttered, heading for the glowing exit sign near the back. No one would notice them slipping out early. "C'mon, I really don't want to have to sit through that auction."
"We were supposed to buy something," he smirked, though honestly he couldn't care less.
She laughed. "Yeah, well, I'm not wasting Jim's money on any of that garbage. We want art, we can go steal a Renoir."
"I knew there was a reason I kept you around," he smirked, pinching her arse as they approached the exit.
She squeaked, swatting at him as they stepped out into the brisk air. "You better watch it," she warned half-seriously, unable to stop herself from smiling. "C'mon, let's go. I wanna fuck you in that suit and I'm not doing it outside when it's chilly."
"Where are we doing it then? Because hell if I'm waiting a half hour to get home," he said softly, his fingers trailing over the small of her back teasingly.
She smirked, shrugging a little. "Not where it's cold, that's for sure. Otherwise, I'm not picky."
He grinned, leaning down to kiss her before standing up and heading for the front of the building. "I'm thinking the car should be plenty warm once we get the heat going. Thoughts? The back seat is pretty roomy."
"That sounds fine," she grinned, following with a spring in her step. "Has anyone ever told you how good your ass looks in slacks?"
"Can't say they have," he deadpanned, raising an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Usually when I wear a tux, I'm on business."
"I'll mix business with pleasure any day," she hummed, letting him open the car before she got in the back, winking at him as the door shut.
He got into the driver's seat, heading down the block and taking a few turns and parking in a car park. By then the heat had toasted the place up a bit and he got out, going around to the back seat and climbing in with a smirk.
She waited until he closed the door behind him to drop her panties in his lap. "You can take off the tie."
"Thank fucking god," he muttered, untying the offending object and throwing it forward. He smirked as he picked up the panties and tossed them in the same direction. "That's an encouraging start..."
"You bet," she murmured, moving to straddle his waist, a hand going to grab his coat collar.
He dodged her lips with a smirk as she came at him, going directly for her throat with a low growl, teasing as he nipped her sharp collarbone.
"Shit, going straight for the kill?" she muttered, unable to resist tiger puns around him. "Please continue."
He smirked a little. "Keep it up with the quips and I'll leave you striped," he shot back, a hand slipping under her skirt.
His quest was interrupted as the glass of the window pinged slightly, a chip appearing in the glass. He looked up curiously for a moment, before shoving Lorna unceremoniously off of his lap and onto the floor, pushing her head down.
She curled up into a ball on the floor of the car, far too used to being shot at these days to fight it.
Keira tossed the BB-gun to the side, despite how expensive it had been - getting a BB-gun that looked realistic had been harder than expected, but whatever. She pulled the knife from her pocket and stepped out of the bushes at the side of the parking lot. She held the knife in front of her, palm facing out - where she'd painted HELP onto her skin.