Paying the Price (RP)

Persephone arrives at the club via the private "company" car she is allowed to use when on business. She slides out of the back seat and waves a VIP badge at the bouncer, provided for her by Wentworth. They had met earlier, in his offices, high up in some nameless glass tower in the City, with a view of the sludgy grey Thames. She remembers their meeting well...

"Agent Sato, I have here a dossier of great import. You must process this contract, with a temporal restriction of midnight Greenwich time, this evening. You will be provided a car, as well as access to the establishment, a business named, "The Libertine." I trust that the name provides enough context for the nature of the clientele. Dress accordingly."

What a tosser. Every dossier he hands her is 'of great import,' because he thinks everything he does is important. Ugh...

Within the dossier was a head shot of her target as well as a typed info sheet on him: it contains his demographic info, his habits, background, etc. More than she probably needed, but it never hurt to have the info, just in case things got weird. And as usual, the document seems to be hand-typed, which makes sense; her patron is excessively careful with information and does not trust sending it electronically very often.

Howard Winters, huh? Ah yes, asked for fabulous wealth, in exchange for a five-year time limit. Well, his time is up; I hope he made the most of it.

She enters the night club and heads turn. She stands about 5 foot 6 inches, with a slender dancer's body. She wears an elegant black Versace mini dress, strapless and form fitting, and a pair of expensive, but relatively low Jimmy Choo heels. Her hair is up, pinned up with a silver brooch, which in fact has a very sharp point at its tip, hidden within her hair. She holds a small black and silver Christian Louboutin clutch purse. Small diamonds sparkle in her earlobes.

Persephone hands off her umbrella and purse to the coat check guy, though she does keep her slender smart phone with her. She moves through the crowd with the skill of someone who has been to upscale clubs many times before, either for work or pleasure, and this one is no different. She looks for a raised area, perhaps a balcony or mezzanine, from which to view the crowd and, hopefully, pick out her target. Once she has spotted him, she intends to follow him discretely, until she can get him alone. Whether that's in a bathroom stall here at the club, one of the private rooms, or outside on his way home, remains to be seen.

Persephone takes in the situation and considers her options. She could lie low and wait for him to leave, but the dossier has a time limit and he might be in there all night. So she decides to enter, so she can lay eyes on the target herself and make a better plan. Maybe she'll try seduction?

She grabs a drink from a nearby bar and orders an obituary -- a gin martini with absinthe. She loves the taste and she smirks at her own little inside joke with herself; she is, after all, going to be causing an obituary for Howard tonight.

Drink in hand, she weaves her way to the VIP room and plays the part of a high class party girl, the kind that are granted access to VIP rooms with little fuss. Once in, she blends in with the crowd as best she can and surveys the area.

Persephone grits her teeth and holds her breath for a moment, steeling her nerves for what she must do. Then, she smiles and slides in next to her target.

For a short time, she sits there, playing with his hair, laughing at his jokes, and sliding her leg along his. Then she leans in, and in a breathy whisper, says, "Why don’t we go somewhere private? Just you and me?"

Persephone feels her resolve begin to slip. If only he had been a total creep! If only he had tried to take advantage of her, it would have been so much easier to ... to defend herself against him... she thinks, frowning.

Finally, she sighs and changes her posture, sitting up and looking at him directly. She says, "OK, you look like you wanna talk. So tell me, why throw this big exorbitant party with a bunch of parasitic strangers? You seem like the lonliest person here." Her tone suggests she is being sincere, if blunt.

Persephone listens as Howard speaks, a mix of emotions roiling within her. On the one hand, he is clearly pitiable. He is lonely, friendless, without love or beauty or joy or fulfillment or any of the things that makes life worth living. Persephone does not wish to add to his misery. Indeed, a part of her is screaming out to protect this man, to take care of him, to help him escape his own mistakes.

On the other hand, this man is a fool for entering into this deal and deserves his fate. He gave away his soul? For a lottery win? When he had loved ones he could lose, like this Anabel, and a wife... Yes. He is a fool and he deserves to pay the price he agreed to. And that is just what she tells him. Because, after all, aren't we all prisoners of our own mistakes? There is no way out.

She turns to face him, putting her hands on his shoulders so he looks at her and can't escape her words. She speaks, with an earnest directness that spares nothing.

"So let me get this straight. You had a wife and a... daughter? Was Anabel your child? You had a family. You had your life. And you thought that something as petty and inane as a lottery win would bring you happiness? Look what you already had, and have now lost! You had a chance for true happiness, and you traded it away. For this.". She gestures around them. "An empty VIP room at a pointless club, just you and a big bag of coke. Pathetic. Contemptible. Disgusting. You know the end is coming for you. And believe me, you cannot imagine the pain it can involve. So why don't you go ahead and do everyone a favor?"

She picks up the bag of cocaine and opens it. She leans into him, suggestively, her body sliding up against his. She hold the bag up toward him and says, "Why not finally take control of what happens to you, for once in your life? Finally make a decision that is truly yours. It's time, Howard. It's time for the end. Go ahead; I'll stay with you."

She raises the open bag to his face, waiting for him to inhale.

She knows, deep down, she is lying to him as much as she is lying to herself. She knows that none of this is his choice, not really. But he traded away his ability to make choices when he signed the pact and nothing can be done about it now. So she might as well do her job and get this over with.

She also knows, in another, darker part of her heart, that she will shove his face into the bag if necessary. She hopes it won't come to that.

Persephone sighs and nods in acquiescence. "Yes, I’ll stay until the deed is done. Howard, it is time."

She waits until he ingests an obviously fatal dose, encouraging him. She watches as it begins to take effect.

Then she says, "You did it, Howard. You have escaped this awful life. I don’t not envy what awaits you after this."

She stands, straightens her dress, and looks for an opportunity to slip out largely unnoticed. She is leaving Howard to die alone. After all, in our way, we all die alone.

"I hope his fate is better than mine," she whispers to herself, trying to contain her nausea and self-loathing as she leaves.

Persephone makes eye contact with Howard one last time, though she had tried to avoid doing so. Her stomach twists as she sees the look in his eye. She mouths the words, "I'm sorry," as she slips out of the room. If and when she gets away free, she vomits in a nearby alley, disgusted by what she has done.

Persephone stumbles out of the alley wiping the sick from her face. She glances down to see some of it has dirtied her very expensive dress. Now drenched in rain, Pers also realizes she has left her umbrella and her very expensive purse behind as well.

"Ugh. I'm a mess. Well, I can't go back for them. And I just can't stomach seeing that car right now."

She sighs heavily and begins to walk to the nearest station, which ends up being the Mansion House stop on the Central line. She rides it, with everyone giving her a wide berth, as she smells of sick and drips all over the floor, like a feral cat caught in the rain.

She gets off at Piccadilly, her stop, and walks the few blocks toward Mayfair. Her condo is in northeast Mayfair, close to Soho and Piccadilly. Well, she calls it hers; it's her patron's, of course. Wentworth gave her a key and a stern lecture about treating our patron's property with respect.

She arrives at her building at the night doorman struggles to contain his surprise at Persephone's appearance as he opens the door for her. She drips her way across the lobby to the elevator and takes it to one of the top floors. She's not the top floor -- that belongs to someone else, someone who owns the whole floor, apparently. Her condo is one floor down, but it is on a corner, giving her a nice view northeast to southeast. Which is great for an early riser, which she used to be, before all this.

Her elevator opens -- fortunately she was alone on the ride up -- and she exits. As she turns the corner out of the elevator room, she sees someone standing in front of her door.

No. Ugh, not NOW. What is she doing here??

Persephone's younger sister Circe (yes, mom and dad had a thing for greek mythology) is a bit shorter than Persephone. And even though she is only three years younger, her babyface always makes her appear younger still. She finally looks like a grown woman and not a child, though she still could easily be a freshman or sophomore in college based on her appearance. Ugh, and her fashion sense, apparently. She is wearing tan UGG boots, brown leggings as pants, and a charcoal colored rain slicker with a hood, which is currently down. She is dry, so she must have been here for a while, waiting. Her hair is cut short, in a chin length bob, and is straight and black. She has... oh no, she has luggage! What?!

She turns and smiles to see Persephone, but her smile turns into a frown of concern at Persephone's condition. "Ohmigod Pers! What happened to you? Oh.. is that... did you throw up? Jeez Pers, what happened to you?"

Persephone sighs heavily and waves off her concern. She says only, "I had a bad night is all. Drank too much, lost my umbrella, got caught in the rain. I'll be fine. I'm... I'm not usually like this. Don't tell mom, ok?"

She looks to Circe when she says this last thing, a look of concern in her eyes. Circe nods; she was always willing to cover for her big sis whenever Persephone would make bad decisions. Which seemed to be more and more often lately.

Persephone turns and types in her key code. Grateful that she did not lose her keys, only a purse with some makeup and her umbrella, she opens her door and lets her sister in.

Her condo is laid out an open floor plan with minimalist decor. As they enter, two two large wall sized windows at the corner of the building dominate the scene, with the rain running down the glass and the city lights from central and North London sparkling through beyond. IN the center of the space are some low, minimalist couches and tables. To the left, a dining room sits near an island and a modern kitchen with high end appliances, all appearing unused. There is a pile of a week's worth of delivery food and several empty wine bottles on the counter. To the right are three doors, two of them open. One goes into a spacious bathroom for guests and the other into Persephone's bedroom suite. Circe can glimpse into the bedroom and see another set of windows, a king size bed, unmade, an office space with computer and ergo chair, and a master bath with the light left on and a mess all over the vanity.

Persephone rushes in an begins picking up, embarrassed. "I uh, I had a party and haven't had a chance to clean up yet... Um, make yourself at home. There's a guest room behind that closed door, with its own bathroom. No window though, sorry."

She turns back to her sister and looks at her luggage. She says, "So! Visiting for a night or two before heading out somewhere? Maybe a European tour?"

Circe laughs, a little uncomfortably, and replies, "I've got good news, sis! I'm moving to London!!!! I'll stay with you until I get a job and a place. And, um, I was hoping maybe you could help me find a job? You know, maybe like interning at your company or something?"

She looks at Persephone eagerly, innocently. Persephone feels like throwing up again.

Persephone is soaking, sweaty, soiled, and sullen as she stands in her living room with her happily babbling sister. Circe was detailing every element of her trip -- the food, the in flight movie, the guy snoring next to her, etc. Persephone is about to lose it.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming‽" she snaps. Realizing the harshness of her tone, she softens, and adds, "I, uh, would have cleared my schedule for you, dear."

Circe stops short in her monologue, taken aback by the sharpness of Pers' words. But then she laughs and says, "I did tell you! I sent you an email two weeks ago! To your Stanford email address!"

Persephone wants to throw her sister out. Instead, she practice a breathing exercise and says, "Hon, I don't check that any more. I graduated years ago."

Circe looks surprised and says, "Oh! I didn't know! I still use my Wellesley College email address. Well, anyway, I'm here! And we are gonna have so much fun!" She walks around the apartment, taking it in. "This is a new look for you! Soooo clean and ... my, expensive. And WHAT a view! This place is amazing, Pers."

Persephone manages a weak smile and says, "It's corporate housing; it came furnished. And thanks."

Persephone follows after her sister and gathers her hands into her own. She looks at her and speaks earnestly. She says, "Circ, I, um, my work... it's... well, it can be very stressful. With long, often odd hours. Um, high priority meetings across global time zones, you know? So I might not always be around, and sometimes I might need a little alone time to chill after an especially stressful day, OK? You are welcome to stay but, I just don't want you to think we'll be hanging out all the time, like we used to when you would visit me at Stanford. OK?"

She then takes her sister to a sofa and sits her down. She takes a deep breath and says, "now why don't you tell me all about you, and what you've been up to, while I make you something to drink."