Date: June 4, 2010
Wynn confers with one of his most loyal followers. This doesn't bode well for Tracy.
Most of the women in Therapy are scantily clad, particularly those in Ivory Wynn's employ. Tonight, Victory isn't one of them. She enters the bar dressed head to toe in black— save for the long blonde wig that falls midback underneath her beanie. Of course, she didn't use the front door. When she looks like this, coming off a job, she prefers the kitchen entrance. After removing her little black cap, gloves, and all other really incriminating artifacts (and changing back into the short blue cocktail dress she'd worn to the Russian embassy earlier that night), she'd reemerged at the bar, a bag slung over her shoulder. She sits on one of the stools and issues the bartender a bright smile. "Gin and tonic please. Have you seen Mister Wynn?"
The bartender pours the currently blonde woman a drink and shakes his head. "I'm sure he'll be here soon then," Victory grins again before bringing the liquor to her lips.
Trying to pinpoint the location of Former Senator Ivory Wynn is kind of hard to do. Especially when the club is jumping as much as it is at this point. He's been in his office for most of the night, handling some different kinds of business and making sure that things are running smoothly. Of course, it's very hard to concentrate when scantily clad women are all over the place. Having given up on paperwork for the night, Ivory comes strolling out of the office, pulling on his signature track jacket, but leaving his abs out for women to drool over.
As he stands in front of his closing office door, he gives a glance around the room, peering to see if he can't find something fun to play with. There's even a finger tapping idly at his chin as he works on making his selection. Then he spots a blue cocktail (SHORT!) dress off near the bar. With his blonde fetish, he immediately heads in that direction, prepping to get his Denzel on.
At the sight of the ab-clad Ivory Wynn, Victory stands to her feet and issues him a bright smile— something reserved pretty much for him alone these days. "Ivory!" Her eyes linger on those abs for a moment before she approaches him to plant a kiss on his dark lips.
Ivory is too busy paying attention to the body that's in the dress to really understand what happens when his name is called. He does look up though, because the dress is headed in his direction. When the dress wearer's face passes through one of the lights, he raises the corners of his lips into a smile. He's always happy to see someone that's happy to see him. It makes still being alive, after all, a good thing.
He doesn't get a chance to say anything because before he knows it he has a Lipful of Victory. He doesn't do anything to stop her from kissing him, but he does find himself pulling back just a bit at some point. He can't be seen kissing this woman for too long in public. "Let me guess. You don't have any pockets. You're just happy to see me." Wink.
"I'm always happy to see you," Victory says matter-of-factly as she leans away, still mesmerized from said-kiss. "Even in the strangest circumstances you remain constant." An odd thing to say, but it's punctuated by a wink of her own as she passes the shoulder bag over to him. The bag itself is unimpressive— brown burlap. Inside the bag is one of the Russian Crown Jewels, on loan from the museum for an embassy event.
"It was easy enough to take. "I had planned to take more, but I just took the one I deemed best. Most valuable in my estimation— a private collector would give an arm and a leg for it, I bet," she shrugs. "Taking more could've been feasible, buuuuut getting caught wouldn't do anyone much good, I don't think." Issuing Ivory a broad toothy grin she hmmms.
"Good girl." Ivory's words might as well be coming out like he's trying to make sure that his favorite puppy knows that she's appreciated. Granted, it's not like he has to actually try to keep Victory happy. His existence alone is something that manages to keep that part going. A fact which he truly knows and understands. Which could be why he's smiling when he takes the bag and shoulders it himself. "I've got a buyer lined up for this already."
Ivory keeps the bag on his shoulder and moves over to the bar to order his favorite drink. It comes to him in record time, as if the bartender already had it ready. "I'm working on something new. I'm gonna' need your former expertise for it, though." He takes a sip of his drink and then turns back to look at Victory. "You up for a little trip down memory lane?"
"Something new?" Victory quirks and then hmmms. "What kind of trip? You know I'd be willing to go anywhere, even memory lane. Besides, it's all a trip down memory lane. I used to steal intel so I haven't completely changed my modus operandi. I even danced once in awhile in my old life." She winks now. "What do you have in mind? Something different, I assume."
"D.C." That would be the location. "The people that decided they wanted me dead for not complying with their evil plans? Some of them are still out there." Ivory reaches into his pocket and comes out with a photo, which is handed off to Victory. "Tracy Strauss." There's a small glance down at the picture that lingers for a moment longer than it should. "She's my next target. I need you to be somebody else. And I need you to become her new best friend. She needs to learn that she can't hire someone to kill me and not make sure the job is finished herself."
"D.C.?" Victory asks incredulously. "Hmmm. Tracy Strauss— the name sounds evil." A wicked grin spread across the woman's lips as she nods and looks over the photo. "I can be anything, Ivory. You know that." She has, in fact, spent years becoming someone else; something else. An enigma— her real identity abandoned too long ago to matter— disappeared into a world of nothing. She gasps a little at the notion of anyone wanting to kill Ivory, "I can introduce her to a world of hurt, you know. I'm not an expert, but I've been on the receiving end more than once— "
"I can be her friend. What is she like? What does she do?" Facts that can only make befriending Tracy that much easier.
Ivory continues to smile, as he turns to lean back against the bar. "In a word? She's a Bitch. In two? She's a Frosty Bitch. But, for some reason, she had me thinking that I was in love with her. She used that to get me to let her into my government secrets and that life. From there I'm pretty sure she decided to usurp my position and ruin the lives of hundreds, thousands, of American citizens." Ivory just kind of shrugs a bit, though it's obvious this Tracy woman has him quite riled up. "I've never felt so betrayed in my life. And this was before she had people try to kill me."
With all of those words intact, Ivory just kind of gets back to the matter at hand. That's enough building up Tracy as a target for the moment, now isn't it? "I just want you to get to know her. Be her friend. Get close to her. I don't trust her. If she finds out I'm still alive, she'll probably try to kill me again." Ivory's eyes soften with worry and he bites his lip for just a moment. "That would suck. Seriously." All jokes aside, "I just want to do some pre-emptive surveillance on her, to make sure myself and my girls are safe."
"Well we can't have that can we— you and all of us unsafe. Of course I'll do some recon." Slowly, Victory removes the blonde wig from her head and smoothes her natural-coloured locks underneath. "I'll befriend her. I'll try to get as much information as I can and plan to report back to you in short order."
Smoothing her dress now she smiles before tilting her head a little, "Just call me Julia Thorne." An alias. Always an alias.
"I've got some… equipment, in the basement. Should prove useful. If you can get access to her apartment, car, office… whatever." Ivory goes into his pants pocket and comes out with a small jump drive. "There's a file on here that has all sorts of stuff about her. Where she used to work, favorite hangouts, favorite place to eat, that kinda' stuff. Should help you make quite a few coincidences happen." With that tossed in Victory's direction, he brings his hands up in front of him to horizontally steeple his fingers. Casual Evil. "Any other questions?"
"No questions. I'll head to D.C. after I collect everything I need," Victory steps towards Ivory and places a hand on his shoulder before stepping towards the basement. "As always, call me if you need anything else. For you, Ivory, I'm always available." Her lips curl up into a wicked grin as she pads towards the basement entrance. "I've always had a thing for basements," she muses.
Ivory watches as Victory heads to the basement, before he pushes away from the bar and moseys his way on over towards the door leading to his office. He grins to himself and whips out his phone. Apparently, a number is dialed quickly and he's speaking just as he enters the office.
"Yeah. I'm holding in my hand as we speak." He turns to reach for the door. "We're meeting. 20 minutes. Bring cash."