welcome

[Guinevere Berkshire]

Walking wasn’t exactly what she had figured herself to be doing once she had completed her morning routine. In fact, she never seemed to wake up imaging much of anything in the ways of what she might spend her day doing. It merely wasn’t in her nature. Liked doing things as they happened far too much to do anything of that sort. IN fact, she had been intending to lounge about in the lounge since her nice skirt seemed like something that ought to be paraded around in a mellow little area, a funny thought since it was only a skirt, but never the less, it was what she wanted. But of course, she had been caught off guard by the clouds the threatened rain in the city and thought it may be a better idea to go for a walk out there instead of just sitting around and staring wistfully out the nearest window as it poured down. She wasn’t supposed to go too far since she would hate to be caught in the rain, but she was pretty sure she had passed that point the moment she saw the beach and continued to walking along as though nothing was wrong.

So, wrapping her arms around herself, she sighed before brushing a hair out of her face as she looked up at the sky. The clouds were building, but rain had yet to happen so perhaps, just maybe, nothing bad would happen and she wouldn’t have to seek shelter in the nearest café or pub until the rain stopped. After all there was really no way she would dare go out in the rain. She’d rather not get herself so bloody lost mere blocks from her hotel, forced to rely on the nearest ‘gentleman’ out to help a damsel in distress. Knowing her luck she’d wish for an Arthur and get some dark haired Lancelot instead, though the latter implied that she already had a husband to cheat on. Pity her father never thought of arranging a marriage between her and some random boy named Arthur. It would have proved damn amusing. Huffing, she shook her head before continuing along, a little disappointed when the shores of the beach seemed to give way to the average, run of the mill port.

Not to say there was anything run of the mill about the yachts that cluttered the harbour. No, they were exactly what someone might expect to find in such an area. Big boats that were only used in the summer most likely to be partied on as though there weren’t plenty of upscale places to be on land. Of course, who was she to criticise? She did so love the parties they held on those boats, especially on a clear night when the stars were shining brightly and the moon was full. It made the evening seem a bit more real than the typical club could’ve since it was easy to lose track of time in a place that didn’t like the use of windows. So it probably wasn’t fair to insult the fair boats or the people who had them since she did like them ever so much, though she often felt she may be getting too old for such a thing, though such feelings had been coursing through her odd veins since college.

Looking around, and then too the sky once more to ensure her safety, she decided to go a bit closer, wandering around what seemed like a deserted docks since no one seemed to be lurking around the boats. They were beautiful, the smell of the ocean water was pleasant even if it would seep into her clothes like the smell from a cigarette if she lingered too long. It was still a fairly decent day and she was out to enjoy that since nothing could possibly be more important that standing about like she was, wandering idly here and there. Sure, she had a business to check in on, friends and family she ought call, but somehow they just didn’t rank up there quite like her own odd behaviours did.

[Remington Matthieu]

Tourists. What a gullible lot they were. Equally useless in almost all shapes or forms. Aside from the few that flocked to the loan sharks like sheep to a slaughter, of course. Most clients weren't tourists. More often than not, they happened to be those who were attempting to live the expensive life here in Monaco. Even if they didn't have the means of supporting such a costly habits. It's amazing how few actually consider that the very cost would be their life. Although, you couldn't count on Remington for this information. He didn't know what the numbers really were. If handed a chart with the specifics written down neatly, he still wouldn't have been able to figure it out. Half the time, while on a job - he counted on the target giving him the correct amount. Often ending up with more money than the unfortunate soul had taken in the first place. A murderer had no place behind a desk. Or even being in a room with a desk. Luckily, this had been acknowledged. Remington was in charge of 'clean up' and threats of violence.

Threats just aren't enough. Remington thought to himself quietly as he stood on the wooden dock taking deep almost exhausted breaths. There was a man in front of him who was babbling pathetic excuses as to why he was late with his payment. Still - this was no longer the reason he was irritated with this man. He had tried to run away once he saw Remy's familiar grin. It took an exceedingly amount of time for him to be cornered and out of breath. They had created quite the scene dashing through the streets and alleys until stumbling into Monaco's lavish harbours. A bold mistake on the bloke's part. Nobody was using them on a day like this. Looming overhead were enough dark clouds to suspect a major storm. But with the absence of rain, it was nothing more than a minor nuisance keeping the sun away. His target was a younger man, one that wasn't in too much debt or in too much trouble. But Remy had been sent out to give him a brief taste of the reality. His full name escaped him currently, but he suspected it as Demetrio.

Simply being this close to the ocean was making him deathly nauseas. And the yabbering of his target wasn't helping. Without a second thought, he lunged forward and snagged the young man by the shirt. The sudden movement made Demetrio step back, nearly stepping off the edge of the boards. Had it not been for Remington's strong hold - he would have fallen. What seemed like a kind gesture turned sour. "Look. I don't care about your problems. Just bring us the money. You've got a week before you see me again. Trust me, by then it won't be such a friendly encounter." As soon as those words were uttered behind that wicked grin, he let go. Demetri falling to test his luck with the ocean and wooden beams. A splash following suit. There was a reasonable distance between the dock and the water below, most likely to accommodate the largest yachts docked there. Looking down, he watched the man attempt to keep afloat through the storm driven waves. He would have been pleased and deeply amused if he didn't get an uncomfortable pang.

From the strong scent, to the sounds of crashing waves in the distance and seagulls barking noisily overhead. It all forced him into remembering that awful boat ride from Greece to Italy. That eternity crammed into a small cargo ship, spending every moment either writhing on the floor or as dead weight over the railing. He wasn't sure what it was that drove him to vertigo with each sway, but had been told it had to do with the lack of stability under his feet. Which could have been considered hilarious when noted how genuinely unstable the man was as a whole. God forbid, people found out that Remington had such an awkward weakness. All of his targets would be decked out on a boat twenty four seven. And there would be bugger all he could do about it. He had to get away from this. The unsettling noises and smells playing tricks with his system. Taking laboured breaths, he broke his gaze from the ocean and looked back. Only seeing the recreational boats lined up. Their only use today was to show themselves off.

Remington started walking back the way he had came, taking a swift turn where the docks conjoined and his eyes were caught by movement. There was a woman who happened to be walking his way. He was slightly apprehensive then concerned that she had seen what he did. But was eased when it was apparent that she was just observing the scenery. Subconsciously, he had already started scheming. Fueled by his desire to cover his own tracks and compulsion to lie, he strutted straight over to the lovely woman holding a hand out in the air to get her attention. "Pardon me, love." Remy's words were spoken with what was a distinct English accent. "I work with security at this harbour, I'm going to have to see some proof that you're permitted to be here." He sounded convincing enough with this request. Although, he wasn't wearing a standard security uniform. Clad on his form was a black long sleeve dress shirt and a pair of faded jeans with a couple noticeable tears. If she called him out, he already had an excuse on the tip of his tongue.

[Guinevere Berkshire]

Looking up at him with a sort of surprise, she glanced around the harbour to see if there was any way he might have been talking to another. Unfortunately it just seemed to be her and she didn’t have any sort of permission set out to say that she could be in the harbours wandering about like she was, a particularly annoying problem considering the challenge she was suddenly face with. But, he had a nice, familiar accent and certainly another good Englishman would be easy to bargain with. Hell, he may just understand the small problem she found herself faced with and take pity with her. Though, no intentional flirting was to be had since that was a whore’s solution for her problems. Just batting those lashes, pretending to be a defenceless little girl. Frankly, Guin would much rather go to jail.

Frowning in a manner that most might consider a pout, she looked him over, noting that he didn’t exactly look like the typical officer. Of course there could be a grand many reasons to that and she would have to intrude upon his life, so she didn’t. Instead, she fiddle about with the hem of her shirt. “I was merely wandering around, Sir.” Came the simple statement in that precious little accent of hers. The one that spoke of oh so many things, the greatest being that she clearly never hung out with the wrong crowd or did the ‘rough and tumble’ thin in her life. Furrowing her brows, looking him over again because she couldn’t exactly imagine how such a man would wind up looking so… out of place when he was supposed to be working. Shaking her head, she decided not to question his person.

No, she just brushed a strand of hair behind her ear in the way a delicate young lady ought to then went back to fixing and messing up her clothes, since it was a bit shameful to find herself in trouble. She scarcely did anything wrong in her life, so when she stated to plus at the thought that she might be in trouble, she pouted a bit more. “I’m… I’m not in trouble am I?” A simple question only slightly hindered by her big doe eyes looking up at him from her long lashes, pouty frown still on her face. Not exactly the firmest, strictest look, but she didn’t think much of it since she was not flirting with the man. She was just, unknowingly being a bit more juvenile than she had originally planned and no one could honestly fault her for that.

[Remington Matthieu]

Remington battled to stifle his typical grin. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly before he may as well have bit his tongue for focus. Normally, he would always have that cynical smile plastered on his face. But this moment in particular called for a serious disposition. He did say he was working with security, did he not. In order to pull off this guise, he would need to at least seem concerned over the matter at hand. Even if the entire charade was nothing short of a bluff. People were allowed to wander through this harbour without supervision. Sometimes, a few of the yachts would have calling cards on them in case a potential buyer happened to pass by. Not to mention that in all of Remington's time in Monaco, he had never seen a single guard or policeman in this area. Whether it was because this was an impossibly crimeless spot or he just never had a chance encounter with a patrolman, he wasn't sure. Which seemed to contradict itself in that manner.

With all these expensive crafts around, one would expect it to be at the very least monitored. Then again, it was this very observation that he was using to his up most advantage as his blue gaze rested upon the woman in front of him. Her apprehensive fidgeting was doing nothing to discourage the man's string of lies. Little did she know that she just stated the very thing he had already assumed. That she was merely wandering around. Rarely, if ever, did he get called "Sir" or anything of the sort. It was a pleasant change. Preferably when it was in a coalition with familiar pronunciations of words. Still - it was different from his usual titles. Those usually consisted of one or two words of the profane variety. Although, Remington had always been told that he shouldn't make too much of a fuss over semantics. It wasn't like he could blame him for considering him a bastard. That's not to say he would welcome it with open arms. On the worst day it would be greeted with a balled fist.

The next few words to come out of her mouth caught him by surprise. Asking if she was in trouble. Like a nervous schoolgirl who forgot to bring in her report. It was, non the less, amusing. More so, her choice of words. Remington couldn't remember the last time he figured himself to be in trouble, rather he wondered when he would be on death row or at the least arrested. "Trouble? No, you're not." He said with a light shake of his head. Just enough to make his dark hair become even more unkempt. All of that running had sort of destroyed whatever proper look could have been presented. "But the harbour is open to authorised personnel only. Particularly on a day like today. Nothing is leaving until that storm clears up." He explained with a gesture to the sky. A hand lifted, index and middle finger pointed to the clouds that seemed to be having difficulty deciding whether or not they wanted to rain. His cold eyes followed the invisible bullet that his hand had shot up into the sky.

As if he had pushed his luck too far, thunder cackled mocking him in the background. And only a second after-wards did rain fall from the bloated clouds. If he had been alone, the man might have sulked. Always been one with the luck of a black cat when it came to things like this. It was only a drizzle of sorts, but he could hear the patter of heavy rain in the distance. A treat considering it drowned out the nauseating crash of waves. But not enough to make being here bareable. With a sigh, his attention to the young woman at hand. Giving her an uncharacteristically sympathetic glance. She was an attractive bird, even a criminal couldn't dream of denying that. "Speak of the devil." Remington scoffed as he felt the small drops of water hitting the top of his head and his shoulders. Was it too much to ask to let me get inside before you started. He thought scornfully to himself. Normally, he wouldn't have minded being out in the rain. But between chasing down his client, and stumbling into this woman. It didn't seem like he would be getting a break anytime soon.