Gazelle automatically straightened her jacket before knocking on the door. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt excited about a job. It had certainly taken her long enough to find this one. As she knew Peay always said, being a regular bodyguard to some rich asshole would have bored her. Even a relatively more exciting government job wouldn't have been any better, if she had been able to be hired for one. At least rich men admired the "novelty" of her, a phrase she despised. She knew that politicians, however, were afraid of her legs taking attention away from her speeches and of being mocked for going out of their way to hire a disabled bodyguard, a disabled, non-white, female bodyguard, no less. Because really, who would believe that she was the best?

Valentine seemed different, though. When she first heard he was coming, she hadn't thought much of the news; she assumed he was another rich bitch; the only question was whether he would be the type to ignore her entirely or make a stupid joke about her "killer legs". Either way, she knew that an uncooperative glower would shut him off. It was idle locker-room conversation that changed her mind, though.

Amidst the usual gossip, she heard one of them causally mention a meeting Valentine had had with a Professor Yanes, a scientist so controversial, he needed a bodyguard after receiving a large batch of hate mail. Even more intriguing was the fact that the bodyguard had been sent out of the room during the meeting. For anyone else, this wouldn't have been considered out of the ordinary, but Professor Yanes needed his bodyguard around him at all times, and was not afraid to let him in on some allegedly hair-raising information. So, whatever Valentine wanted from him must have been truly dastardly to warrant such banishment. Naturally, Gazelle decided to investigate the instant she returned to her tiny apartment, but in spite of being able to hack into the company's computers, she could hardly find any relevant information, a sure sign he was hiding something. She even did a brief search on the Internet for any other information on him. Not even anti-technology naysayers had anything bad to say about him. He had a commitment to protecting privacy, and his company was ecologically friendly, not to mention completely humane. In short, whatever he was planning must be horrific beyond belief, just the thing to relieve her boredom.

She gave her usual slight smile when Valentine opened the door.

"Hey, Gazelle! You're right on time!"

As he ushered her into his mansion, she momentarily worried about scuffing the floor with her feet, but if her impressions of Valentine had been correct, he wouldn't care.

"Want me to show you your room first?"

"Yes, thank you."

She picked up her small duffel and as he led her through his labyrinth-like home. "So, there's no problem with you moving in here? No family or roommate to worry about?"

"No, I'm used to moving on very short notice."

"Yeah? That sounds exciting. I've been here for about ten years at this point, so I think my wandering days are over. I mean, I've got other houses around the world that I go to, but that don't really count as moving."

She smiled at his exuberance. "How many houses do you have?"

"Now, I would have thought you'd know that from your extensive research. I'd have bet you could tell me the taxes on all of them."

"That's not the sort of information I'm interested in, Mr. Valentine."

"Well, don't worry, Gazelle, I'll tell you everything you want to know"

"Really?" she cocked an eyebrow as he opened the door to her room.

"Absolutely. I make it a policy to tell everyone who works for me. That way, they can offer their own suggestions, and won't be taken by surprise. Besides, when I tell you what I'm doing, you'll realize it's only common sense."

Gazelle didn't hear his final statement, as she stared in wonder at the room in front of her. The sheer size was impressive enough, but complied with the priceless art, state of the art computer, and ornate furnishing, it was breathtaking.

"Now, you can obviously redecorate any way you want; this just used to be one of the guest rooms."

"No, Mr. Valentine, I think I'll be very comfortable here."

"Good, good! So, how about you unpack and we can have dinner at 7:00 and discuss things."

"All right, Mr. Valentine."

"Great, I'll see you then." He smiled and left her alone in the room.

She unpacked methodically, and after getting lost a few times, she knocked on the dining room door at 7:00 exactly. The incongruity of the scene amused her. There on the priceless dining table were two cardboard pizza boxes, and sitting at the table was Valentine in his customary baseball cap and baggy clothes.