Gin decided that this was officially the stupidest plan in existence.
Gin didn't do undercover. He just didn't blend in. He was a tall man with long blonde hair in Japan and they wanted him to blend in.
He decided the mission assigners were finally cracking. They'd been due anyways, what with that mess during Vermouth's annual party. Vodka was still trying to regrow his hair from that fiasco.
Well, his higher-up's sanity non-withstanding, it still meant that Gin would have to infiltrate a higher-end party to reach his target. He'd have to...dance. And converse.
Gin felt slightly dirty already.
Vermouth gave him a sweet smile.
"It's not so bad, Gin. You'll learn to tolerate it."
He gave her his best glower and "evil voice" - damn, why was this woman never affected by the voice? - and growled. "How am I supposed to learn to tolerate being flung around by numerous air-headed bitches trying to get into both my pants and the money I'm pretending to have?"
She smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Like I tolerate the male version of the same. Pretend you're decapitating them while they dance. It's much more interesting, especially when you give them scores for impressive blood splatters."
Gin paused, cocked his head, and finally nodded. She had a point.
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