Tango in Tblisi

December 09, 2015:

Agent Johnson and Agent Darrow of SHIELD infiltrate a Georgian Soiree in Tblisi.

A high society party in Tblisi, Georgia.

A fancy hotel ball room in Tblisi, Georgia


NPCs: None



Mood Music: [*\#https://youtu.be/Gcxv7i02lXc None.]

Fade In…

Reginald Darrow had managed to pretty promptly annoy almost everyone he met at SHIELD. Not that he was incompetent- in fact, quite the opposite. And he had no shame about telling anyone and everyone just how incredibly efficient he was at the spytrade. Brilliant marksman, fluent in multiple languages, and insufferably arrogant— the perfect spy. And worse, being on-loan, so to speak, it wasn't as if he was particularly reproachable.

MI-6 had tagged a potential operation and inquired via Reggie if SHIELD could lend some assets to the mission, which required both an expert social infiltrator and a skilled computer hacker. Daisy's name had come up, and in a surprising whirlwind of activity, the two of them had boarded a first-class plane and flown to Tblisi. In contrast to… probably all missions, ever, they'd taken a luxury limosine to the Radisson Blu Iveria, where Reggie had calmly checked them in as 'Mr. and Mrs. Rezo Darchidze.'. Suitcases had been unpacked, and when Daisy slipped into the bathroom to change, Reginald leaned his shoulders against the closed door behind him and resumed the mission brief.

"To recap once again," he says, in a thick and quite excellent Georgian accent. "Your name is Dapine— and you are my lovely young bride from America," he tells the girl in the other room. He adjusts the tuxedo's cuffs, making sure his sterling cufflinks gleam with fresh polish. "My name for today is Rezo, though you might call me Rezzie in intimate company. We've been married ten months— your family is Armenian by heritage. I doubt anyone will press you for details, but try to remember the broad strokes in your brief. Worst case, fake it," he says, calmly. "We're looking for Sergei Onhystovy, a Serbian national. He's the one who has the data we need. You following this so far?" he asks, the accent dropping momentarily as he turns his head micromentally towards the gilded door of the luxury suite.

Working for SHIELD has taught Daisy many things; one of which was to expect anything and be ready on a moments notice. Only that early morning she was waking up on her office couch (where she spent many an night) in a pair of sweats and her favorite Bon Jovi t-shirt to a knock on her door. A mission to Georgia. It was not until they were over the ocean that she realized she was not heading south for peaches and a Zac Brown concert. No she was headed to Tblisi, Georgia and the details of the mission were only slightly revealed. Yet, she slept most of the flight.

"Dapine? My name is Dapine? Okay I can work with that. A lovely young bride from America. Rezzo…got it." She slowly opens the door and hops her way across the hotel suite carpeted floor as she tries to put her heel on. She is dressed in a figure fitting gown of burgundy and gold; her hair done up elaboratively. It i not often that Daisy actually dresses in such a way, and the smile on her face as she moves to secure her other heel is one of pleasantries. "It beats dressing like a pizza girl." She does not elaborate on that story right now as it were.

" She rises from the bed and stands before him, turning once slowly. She makes no attempt at an accent at all, as she knows all to well this is not her forte." Armenian by heritage. My father made all his money in the diamond trade before settling in the mountains of Colorado. How I miss that man. Such a tragic mining accident." She smiles and brushes past her spy companion, moving to the table by the window and putting on her earrings; earrings that are doubling as a small communication piece. "So Sergei Onyhstovy. Got it." She walks up to him and smiles offering her hand. "Are you ready Rezzie?" She cannot help but laugh lightly. "I feel like a spy? Wait..I kind of am."

Reggie grins at the sight of Daisy hopping across the room. He's changed in his appearance in a number of very subtle ways that combined make for almost a different looking man. His eyes are now a much warmer shade of brown, instead of being closer to hazel— and he sports a short, neatly trimmed black beard that grew out fairly quickly and full. He looks a bit shorter, but a bit fuller through the chest and legs. Even the hue of his skin is marginally different, to the point where he easily blends in with the natives of the country.

He cuts quite a dashing figure, clad as he is in a dinner jacket, complete with cummerbund. It's not quite an American tuxedo, but it's in that same ballpark.

"You look lovely, my dear," he says in those thick accentals again. He steps towards Daisy and reaches for her left hand, carefully, and with a surprisingly deft motion slips a golden ring onto her third finger, crowned with a dazzlingly prismatic diamond the size of a pea. "There, now the image is complete. We are happy married couple." He reaches into his other pocket and comes up with a small USB flash drive bareely the size of his thumbnail. "Keep this somewhere safe, yes?" he says, his smile not changing one bit.

"Come, we go downstairs to party now. I will try to speak in English as much as possible, but don't panic if you lose conversation. Shall we?" he says, offering her the crook of his left arm.

Daisy raises her hand to meet her gaze, her eyes fixated on the large diamond and she cannot help but question. Tho, the question is more rhetorical than anything else and is unfinished. "Where did you even…" She shakes her head and accepts the flash drive, tucking it down the front of her dress into her bra beneath it. "As safe as can be. I suspect nobody will go looking in there." She winks and accepts the offered arm, a nod given. "I fully expect to lose the conversation. Which is why this earring on my left ear has a translator built in." She taps it once with her finger. "Hey I got tricks of my own. Fitz built it for me a while back. All I have to do is…"

The young agent takes her phone out of her cutematching side purse and accesses the internet. A few little button pushes and the earring flashes twice behind her lobe and then goes dark. "And programmed for Georgian. Tho, I will be a little behind." There is a casual shrug given. "I will try and keep up. You just do most of the talking there Chameleon boy." She pats the back of his hand lightly with her other one and then drops her phone back into her purse. "Let us go my dear husband. I fear I have a limited amount of time in these damn shoes."

Reggie raises an eyebrow in approval at the gadgetry. "Maybe I ought to search /you/ for hidden bugs," he murmurs as he holds the door open for her. A short trip in the elevator leads the two of them to the foyer, where they join a small procession heading towards the ballroom. Like so many hotels built in ancient cities, the hotel is built near a much older manor, into which they pass. Warm and comfortable wallpaper and clean, trim carpet underfoot gives way to a much older, more stately elegance— vaulted ceilings, gas lamps, high windows that permit a bit of starlight and the moon from without. The floor is hardwood and so well joined there's no chance of tripping or injury, and 'Rezo' leads his 'wife' past security, flashing an invitation, and to the soiree.

"Lesson one," he tells her in a soft sotto voce, speaking and barely moving his lips. "Don't approach the target immediately. Take your time to scout him. Decide on your approach." He reaches for a passing tray borne by a waiter and plucks two flutes of champagne, offering one to Daisy. "Your health, my dear," he says in those thick accentals, toasting her before taking a sip. He stands facing her as if they were any other intimately affectionate couple, positioned slightly offset so he can look over her shoulder and she can look over his.

She feels like a princess, and whether she means to or not, she is taking it all in and fully embracing the role. It was not long ago that she was living in a van in an alley way. Now, she was on a mission in Georgia with a super spy, wearing a multi-million dollar ring (or so she thought) and rubbing elbows with some of the finest dignitaries in Eastern Europe. It was a lot to take in, but Daisy was holding her own as she raised the glass of champagne to her lips and sipped slowly, peering over his shoulder at those gathered in the room. Her own voice was soft and barely a murmur as she replied from behind the rim. "Got it. Scout the target."

The glass is lowered and held before her. "So um…this thing down my dress. Does it have a purpose? I mean aside from having the view of a lifetime?" A pleasant smile and an incline of her head is given to a passing couple of obvious importance, and it is quite clear that Daisy is sizing the woman up. "I look better than her right?" She blinks twice and then softly adds. "Right the mission." Her eyes glance over at the /target/ in question and she ventures a few observations. "He has taken 3 sips since we arrived and his glass has not lowered any. Trying to stay sober but socially acceptable?"

"If that was all I was going for, I would have put it there myself," Reggie assures Daisy, waggling a brow at her. He watches the woman sashaying away, then shrugs once at Daisy. "As for looking the best, well, it's… kind of an apples and oranges thing?" he says, in a bantering tone. "Georgian women are notoriously kinky in the sack. We can either be one of those couples that's civil for the sake of appearances or the ones who sneak into the pantry for a snog."

It's really remarkable how good he is at that semi-ventriloquism— his lips barely move, and when they do, even a talented lip-reader would have a hard time processing what he's saying. The bantering and self-assured tone is the only thing that gives some context to his words. He steps a half pace towards the buffet table, setting Daisy up to walk aside him and giving him a clear line of sight to the target. "Hm. Good eye," he compliments Daisy. A couple walks past and he guffaws as if she'd said something clever. "Yes, of course darling, whatever you'd like," he says, giving her lower back a gentle pat.

Once they're gone, he continues speaking in that spy/prison style. "Alcohol's won and lost a lot of wars. Rule two, is learn local customs," he advises her. He fills a plate with a few hors d'ouerves, and passes it to Daisy. "For one, always eat with your right hand. Second," he says, eyeing the wet bar, "in Russia, you never pass up vodka."

The pantry comment warranted an almost choking on the champagne that was being sipped at the time, tho Daisy manages to swallow it with a gentle and polite cough, followed by a subtle clearing of her throat. "Warn me next time. I almost drowned there." She follows him to the buffet table with a graceful ease and elegance on every painful step of those shoes, doing well to mask her discomfort. As the couple walks by, another nod is given with that same charming smile, yet now words spoken. She plays right along with his words and the hand on her back. "You know what I like Rezzie…"

As the couple steps away and he starts to instruct her, she nods silently as her eyes still remain fixiated on the room and its occupants. She accepts the plate of hors d'oeurves and moves to pick one up with her left hand, drpping it quickly at his instruction and smiling. "Got it. Right hand." She picks up one with her right hand now and nibbles it slowly.

"Dont tell me what it is if you want it to stay in my mouth." The is a slight nudge as she slides closer with her words. "Vodka. Not sure we get along." Yet she does move to follow him should he move to the wet bar. "Okay super spy…are there rules about peeing here?"

"…so do you guys just, like, not do 'phrasing', or what?" Reggie mumbles in reply to her advice about the snacks. "As for peeing, I'm pretty sure girls do it here the same way they do anywhere else," he suggests to her. "You /are/ a girl, right?"

He diverts their path from the bar before they step up to it, having seemingly seen all he needs. Sergei, who proves out to be a sallow-faced fellow in his middle age, with a paunch, seems to be one of those fellows people rapport with more out of social requirement than preference. Plenty of folk come by to talk to him, but the conversations seem to wane fairly quickly and they move on in short order. Between visits, Sergei starts to take longer pulls on his champagne, his expression growing more and more sour.

He leaves his stationary spot near one of the counters and moves to a table, where he's greeted by a pair of officious looking dignitaries in a semi-military uniform. Reggie cranes his neck until he loses line of sight, just as the orchestra concludes their soft background music and switches to a more up-tempo beat.

"I think I see a play here," he mutters to Daisy, setting their champagne flutes aside. "Let's play a false flag combined with a honeypot. First, you need to get his attention. Can you dance?"

"Hey. I may not be a lot of things, but I lack the penis to be a boy so yeah. Girl here." As /Rezzo/ watches the man in question, Daisy does the same, seemingly trying to learn genuinely from the spy. She truly does appear to be trying to be the bet little spy that she can be, making sure very move and every eye contact with anyone is carefully measured. She does not spea /spy/ yet and when Regiland makes the comment about flags and honeypots she seems very confused.

"I am not sure what you just said, but if it involves a honeypot and that guy…I am going to request a different approach to achieve our mission goal. Just saying." She looks to her companion with a wide-eyed glance and repast her words. "Just saying." Her eyes drift back to Sergei once more and she nods once. "I can dance. Well, this may be the /fake it/ part of the evening. Yet, I assure you I can get his attention. What do you have in mind?"

Rezo adjusts his tie with a self-assured look. Not steadying his nerves, nor looking for inspiration— just letting his natural self-confidence in everything he does come to the forefront.

"A moment, darling," he says, giving Daisy's arm a squeeze. He starts to walk off, then leans over and gives her rear a pinch while he whispers: "Roll with it when I wave you over— and /sell/ it."

He kisses her cheek with a brush of that neatly trimmed beard and steps off towards the eight-piece orchestra, head high and moving with that brusquely Russian self-assurance. A few words are exchanged with the orchestra, and they shift from the light, quick song with a reedy falter. A single violin starts playing and Reginald steps onto the dance floor with a click of his oxford shoes, stopping a bit theatrically and extending a hand across the dance floor to Daisy, opposite, as the violinist leads the orchestra into a sultry number.

There is the slightest of jumps when her backside is pinched. Of course Reginald knew she could not react to such an action. Clever spy. Very clever spy indeed. WHat the hell is he doing? Oh this is not going to be good. Does he even know who she is. News flash…Daisy is not Natasha. Not by a longshot." And when reignald takes to the floor and clicks and stomps his shoes with that extended hand and all that flourish, only one thought goes through her mind: Sell it."

She had seen enough movies. The spotlight dance scene and such where all eyes are upon you. One problem here; Daisy was not able to dance, well at least not like this. She had spent times in nightclubs with flashng lights and skimpy clothes, but this was different. Sell it Daisy. Sell it.

Her flute of champagne was set upon a nearby table and the musci from the orchestra seemed to scream : Spanish to her." Thus, the young Agent of Shield grabs a flower from a display upon the table and elegantly and gracefully tucks it in her hair before making her way out oto the dance floor, making sure she is /selling it/ with ever step and swing of her hips and coy little smile. The hand is taken and she mutters under her breath. "Yeah. This was not discussed prior. You so owe me." That polite smile is on her lips once more and she waits for him to lead. It is the man's job to make her look like the centerpiece and she is going to make him do just that.

Reggie's a swaggering, overconfident ass and quite possibly a walking HR complaint. He drinks, a lot, and hits on literally any woman that can fog a mirror.

But, perhaps unexpectedly, he's a terrific dancer. He moves with a suprising poise, like someone who received some formal training in the distant past. Of course he looks good doing it, with the little flips and gestures that draw attention to him… but he makes Daisy look /incredible/. Every eye is indeed on the two of them, despite the other dancers on the floor, including the target— who is giving Daisy quite the lascivious look.

The song isn't long, but the highs and lows of the melody give it a surprising depth. And 'Rezzo' seems to happily take advantage of every opportunity to stay as close to Daisy as possible during the music.

It ends with a clever pirouette and a sensual dip, and then they're on their feet, amidst applause and a lot of looks of envy.

"I will get drink," Rezo tells Daisy, shoulders rising and falling in controlled exertion. "You go sit and rest feet, ja? I return." His eyes flicker meaningfully towards Sergei, who is barely paying attention to his own conversation, and Rezo escorts Daisy to the edge of the dance floor then moves towards the bar again.

She is lead and she follows. And it certainly helps that she has some athletic ability. She is actually quite adept at picking up what he is laying down and she sells it. It is no wonder that all eyes are upon the careful as Reginald and Daisy are clearly the center of attention. The spins the dip, the whole dance itself finds Daisy performing like she has never danced before; much thanks to her partner. When the dance is over, she sensually walks her way off the floor with a small wink to the ogling Sergei and takes her place on the edge of the dance floor. She does as she is instructed, simply standing there alone and looking beautiful.

She looks vulnerable and approachable and she knows it, watching and waiting for anyone who might choose to approach her.

It takes only a few seconds for Sergei to work the words up to address Daisy. "Privet, preksrayna," he says, in a gravelly baritone. He peers at Daisy, then moves a hand into her line of sight and snaps his fingers to get her attention. "Mielsalmebi? Privet? Hello?" he asks, switching between a few different languages, moving his nearly empty champagne flute to the table.

Across the room, Reginald busies himself ordering at the bar… though he doesn't make any particular effort to get the bartender's attention. Only Daisy would probably put it together— he's giving her a chance to work the angles on the target a bit.

And the target approaches. As Sergei makes his way across the floor to Daisy she meets his gaze and gives him a fetching little smile. "Privet." Yet, then she switches to English with a small laugh. "I am sorry. That is the extent of my Russian. If you would be so kind to continue this conversation in English I would be most appreciative as I owuld hate to butcher your beautiful language." She makes no reference that he is Serbian at all.

She tilts her head ot the side and studies the man a moment, a smile given once more. "So tell me. What is a handsome man like you doing here all alone? Or is that your little game? Leave your options open." Her eyes look down to his ring finger and she finds it bare without a ring. "Where are my manners. Dapine." She extends her hand palm down to him. "You might know my late father Azat Alishan? He was big in Eastern European diamond sales." The name she dropped was a legit name. A man by that ame was involved in just that. It appears Daisy did some homework on the plane ride. "Tho a man of your importance must have rubbed elbows with him more than once..no?"

"Not at all," Sergei assures Dapine. He picks up her hand and bows over it, kissing her knuckles. "It is pleasure to meet you," he says in coarsely accented Russian. "I am Sergei Onyhstovy," he announces, in an aristocratic pomp. "I have heard of your father, though Mister Alishan and I were not personally acquainted. Had I know he had beautiful daughter, I would have made his friend." He quickly gestures at the seats he'd just vacated, stepping back and sweeping an arm. "Please, do join me, Miss Alishan," he invites her. "I see waiter with fine Beluga caviar not far now, and I could perhaps get us drinks…?" he offers.

A smile is given to Reginald as the man lowers his head out of her view to kiss the back of her hand. Her attention goes back to the man before her and she offers another warm and welcoming grin at his offer. "I would be delighted to indulge in some of that caviar and whatever drink pleases you if it means further conversation and your company Mr. Onyhstovy. I am sure my brother would not mind. I have had such limited engagement with fine men since the death of my dear late husband Lars. May he rest in peace. I told him the bear was just sleeping. He insisted it was dead." She quickly dismisses her little tales and slips into the chair gracefully and stares down at the ring. "I only wear to remember him by…tho I thnk tonight with a few drinks I might be able to finally forget him." Another charming smile is given."

"Your… brother?" Sergei's tones are equal parts relief and confusion. "You two… uh. Dance very well," he says, as delicately as possible. He lifts a hand and snaps his fingers at a passing white-tuxedoed waiter. "Bring us two glass of champagne and the beluga caviar," he orders the man perfunctorially.

Having gathered his wits, he turns back to Daisy with an unctuous sort of ease, sitting closer than propriety would normally permit in such a situation. "So, Dapine, tell me more of yourself," he tells the girl, his voice dropping to a more conservational murmur. "Such a lovely thing, and widowed so young? A shame. What brings you to party tonight?" he inquires, resting his arm on the backrest behind her shoulders.

The more she talks the deeper hole she digs herself. However, she is intelligent and she is going to fake it until she makes it. "We should dance very well Mr. Onyhstovy. Our mother was a a French ballet instructor in Paris. Lovely woman. She made sure we were properly taught in the finer arts of the dance floor. Rezzo and I made quite a name for ourselves on the American dance circuit as children." She looks over to Reginald and adds. "Honestly, he is much better than I could ever dream to be. He took to dancing like he took to dolls and dresses." She winces and softly adds, "I have said too much. My apologies."

As the arm goes around the back of her chair, Daisy shifts a bit into the arm. Oh she is trying her best to stomach this whole thing. "What would you like to know? I am an open book, just do not look to read the ending before the beginning if you know what I mean." At the question of what brought her ot the party, there is a slight pause and she taps her fingers on the table before her a moment. "Oh the party. Yes, a lovely party indeed. Such a fine gathering of guests. My brother and I have come to Tblisi to reassure my father's investors that their..um..investments are still secured and that our company is thriving under our leadership. Call it a good will ambassadorial trip." She smiles over to him and looks him over with a careful eye, "Well that an invitation from the party's host."

Sergei grimaces when his jacket buzzes and he pulls out a smartphone. That alone would be rare enough in a place like Tblisi, but it's one of the models that is commonly used by governments who need superstandard encryption. And it's precisely the sort of equipment a foreign agent would use to transport sensitive data to which he needed regular access. He swears softly in Serbian and fiercely mutes it, then jams it back into his breast pocket with an apologetic smile. "Very sorry, rude," he tells her. "I can not ever flee work it seems."

He starts to segue into a rambling discussion of the current economy in Georgia and the effects of a burgenoning Baltic trade treaty. With no small amount of chest-swelling, he both asserts his knowledge of the principle actors as well as offering his rather bombastic opinion of the subject as a whole.

Rezo lets Daisy stew for a few minutes as the fellow worms ever closer to her, then steps into her line of sight with a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. "Vtsukhvar— sheushalos?" he inquires. His accent is almost impossibly on point— he sounds literally like everyone else at the party. In Daisy's ear: 'Apologies- am I interrupting?'

"Oh you needn't apologize Mr. Ohynstovy. I understand business, it is so hard to get away from such. Business is why we are all here is it not?" She smiles and then turns her attention to her approaching brother. "Rezzo…do you know Mr. Onyhstovy? He is most delightful company and I was just about to take him out to dance." She slowly rises from the table and smiles down to the Serbian. "You would not deny me a dance would you? AFterall, would you pass up a chance to be the center of attention on the arm of the most admired young woman in the room?" She offers her hand, but then adds. "Tho, I might request you remove your suit coat. It might get quite hot out there." She winks to the man and gives her best puppy dog eyes."

She then turns to Rezzo and in a soft dulcet tone requests. "Might you join us after? Mr. Ohynstovy has ordered beluga that I am quite sure will go well with the wine you have brought at the other bottle he has requested." She turns to face her fellow agent and brings a hand to her breast over her heart, patting it twice..a symbol to let the Spy know where she wants him to look. "It would /call/ to my heart if you would." She hopes he picked up her clues.

" Come Mr. Ohynsotvoy…I love this song." She leans into to whisper into his ear, warm breath on his face. "It gets me so hot."

Sergei almost tears his coat jacket in his haste to get it off, a bead of sweat appearing. "Of course, of course. This is brother?" he asks, nodding awkwardly at Rezo. Reginald doesn't so much as bat an eye, smiling instantly and bowing slightly to the fellow. "Of course, comrade. Rezo Darchidze," he introduces himself, heels clicking. "My gratitude for speaking English to my step-sister," he thanks the fellow, offering a hand. "She understand Georgian well but speaks but a little."

He turns back to Daisy and bows, deferring to her wishes. "Of course, of course. You two please have fun. Ah—" he checks her before Sergei can drag her onto the floor. "Be gentle with my sister, eh sir?" he asks the man, with a dangerously amused glint in his eye.

Once the two of them are on the floor, with Sergei doing a terrible clumsy-footed attempt at a combination of wrestling and the waltz, Reginald very smoothly transfers the phone from the fellow's coat to Daisy's clutch, so easily that no one notices.

Taking one for the team. A small dance and trying to not injure herself. It seemed like a better choice then cozying up to the man or going back to his room. Yeah, that was not going to happen. It is amazing that Daisy is not killed, but she does her best to make him look good. Yeah, somebody who is not that good at dancing, trying to make someone who is even worse look good. They get a lot of onlookers, but it is not because of admiration and grace. Oh there will be videos of this on the internet tomorrow. Yet, she does work him hard; hard enough to make him not regret removing his jacket.

When the dance ends, Daisy leads the man back to the table where her step-brother is residing. "Well, that was fun. If you both will excuse me a moment I need to head to the powder room." She grabs her cluth purse and with a kiss to both of their cheeks makes her way to the bathroom.

Once there Daisy opens her cluth and removes the man's phone. She perches herself over one of the toilets so her feet do not even show on the floor beneath the stall door.

She removes her own phone and with a cable connecting the two phones together begins to crack the security on the man's phone from her own. It seems to be taking loner then she would wish, but the hacker knows what she is doing and a moment her phone has accessed the the Serbians. "Got ya bitch." He rhand reaches into her dress and from her chest pulls out the flashdrive, connecting it to the man's phone and starting the download process.

The download reaches 100 and she unplugs the flash drive and places it back into her chest. Both phones go back into her purse, and she exits the stall and the powder room. She makes her way back to the table and settles into a chair between the both of them. It is then that the man's phone starts to go off in her purse, the soft ring heard. Shit, she forgot to turn it off or on vibrate." Daisy's eyes go wide and she acts quickly, pointing across the room at a foreign dignatary and exclaming loudly, to drain out the ring. "Oh my god! Is that Gerard de Chateau and Dominique Le Gaspard?" She continues her excitment and grabs the Serb's arm. "You need to meet these people!" Oh Daisy seems crazy right now, and is probably attracting some looks. All to distract the Serbian, drown out the muffled ring and get them an away from the table again."

Rezo is just as good at covering as Daisy is. He's got a small entourage of comely young Eastern European lasses around the table (she's only been gone five minutes, wtf), and the sound of a drinking game that principally involves body shots and lots of giggling seems to have loosened the mood a little. Rezo carries on with little regard from propriety, and though he is getting lots of disapproving scowls from the upper crust, the Serbian looks lost in glee at the bevy of lovely bodies around him, and Rezo seems equally at home with a half dozen girls swarming him for attention. It's a bit harder for Daisy to get the mark away from the table, perhaps, but he's so deliriously happy (and a bit drunk on vodka) that she probably could have shot him and gotten away with it.

"My dear, please slow," Sergei pants, mumbling something incoherent in Serbian. "I … wooh. I am not young as used to be," he says, his face almost beet red. "I think I must return to room for minute and rest, I am… quite tired," he chuckles, squeezing her hand. "But, uh… perhaps after party, you can… come join me for drinks later?" he asks, with a suggestive leer.

Rezo keeps Daisy in his peripheral vision as she moves away, and when she looks back, he winks at her and holds her purse aloft so she can see it's in his safe-keeping— and that's it's obviously not full of a government-issed cryptophone. There's evidently a method to his debauchery.

She was gone 5 minutes, 5 minutrs and Reginald already had a gaggle of squaking ladies surrounding him. What a casanova. He can thank her later that she blew the usband and wife cover earlier in the evening. However, the through her mind that she might either have a room to herself this evening, or perhaps sleeping in the hotel lobby. Yeah, she was not going to be kept up by the cries of foreign pleasure.

Halfway across the floor she looks back and gets the signal that all is well in phone replacement land. It is then that she turns back to the Serbian and exclaims softly. "Oh it is not them. My mistake." She shrugs and winces all cute like. "Well perhaps I will visit you…I mean when the party is over. I fear I have some more networking to do." She lightly pats him on the shoulder and walks back to the table, looking to Rezo and all the ladies. She fetches the man's coat and walks it back ot him, handing it over and kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you for you company Mr. Oyhnstovy, it has been a wonderful…wonderful evening indeed."

And with that she turns and makes her way back to Super Spy and his swooning entourage of foreign beauties. She slips into an unoccupied chair and leans back, exhaling softly and stating. "Well Rezo..I might retire myself It has been a long day. Don't stay out to late, you hear me?" It was time for Rezo to take little payback for making her dance and the time she had to spend close to the Serbian Zombie. She slowly rises and takes her clutch purse, turning to go. It is then that she catches the eye of one of the ladies and raises a brow, holding up her pinkie finger. No words need be said as she makes her way out of the party hall. They made quite a team this new SHIELD Agent and "Tremors". She may not be Super Spy, but tonight she felt like a Princess.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License