midnight mischief; brogan

[Tristise Rederick]

((Given permission to god-mod Adair. Thanks Andy!))

"It's time you proved your loyalty to the family, Tristise," the man stood before her, glaring at her. Tristise was hardly intimidated - he couldn't hurt her.

She rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair nonchalantly, "And if I say no? I don't take orders, Uncle Leonard. I don't work for this family."

"You were born into this family, you are a member of it. You work for us. End of story, mutt. If you don't want to prove your loyalty we'll assume you're not loyal and act accordingly." As a demonstration he pointed his wand at her and silently cast a spell. In an instance Tris felt all of her muscles spasm and nearly fell out of the chair she was sitting in. The pain stopped a moment later and she growled low at her uncle, the urge to rip his limbs from his body strong in her mind. "That is just one of the things we do to traitors. One of the nicer things."

She watched him smirk like he enjoyed torturing her. She had no doubt that he did, he was a sick, twisted man. He murdered his own wife because he didn't like a prophecy she foretold - as if she could control what she saw and the future. "Torturing me is no way to get me to do what you want."

"No, no it isn't, but it's a lot of fun. I have high hopes you'll last longer than most with your lycan abilities. Please, don't disappoint me." Tristise rose from the chair and went to step forward when he body was overcome with spasms again. She fell to the ground and writhed there a moment, howling in pain. Occasionally bits of her anatomy would shift into lycan form, then back to human. It was painful and it was dangerous for both Tris and her uncle.

When the spasms subsided she rose to her hands and knees and barred her long canines at Lenny. She was about to leap when another voice broke in, "Leonard, that's enough! What the hell are you doing to Tristise?"

"She was being obstinate, father. I was simply trying to persuade her to be more open to the idea of the mission," Leonard turned to Adair, his face a mixture of annoyance and pleasure.

Adair growled and walked past him, grabbing Tristise's arm gently and helping her to her feet. "I didn't not give you permission to hurt her. In fact, Leonard, I didn't give you permission to speak to her. The tactics you used are only for traitors. If she has an issue with the mission it should be discussed, not beaten into her to do it!" He looked to his granddaughter and ran a hand over her head lightly, "Are you alright?"

Tristise stepped away and crossed her arms, wholly unamused with the situation and not at all comforted by her grandfather's appearance. "I will live."

Her grandfather frowned, but nodded nonetheless and turned his attention back to Lenny, "Get out. I will handle this from here. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the week, I suggest you take a vacation somewhere far away for that time."

Leonard glared at his father, then at Tristise, gritting his teeth as he did so. A moment later he nodded tersely and turned on his heel, leaving the room, obviously annoyed at having been cut out of the proceedings. Adair turned back to Tris and sighed, "This is not how I run this family, I assure you."

Tristise didn't respond nor look at him. She merely took a seat again, expecting a talk about her supposed mission. Leonard hadn't even mentioned what it was before demanding that she do it - no questions asked. It didn't matter to her, she didn't intend to do it regardless of what it was; however, she knew she was expected to listen when her grandfather was involved. Happy with it or not, she was still living with her family until she found a job elsewhere so she had to pick her battles. She could fight about doing the mission, but she could not fight about hearing the head of the family out.

"So, you don't wish to partake in the mission assigned to you? Tristise, I had hoped..." Adair paused and sighed again before pulling up another chair and sitting across from her. "I realize you aren't overly fond of the family, but I had hoped you would still understand the importance of taking part in missions, of proving your loyalty."

"Why should I prove my loyalty to this family? You know I would never betray you, grandfather. Whether I approve of the family or not I would never disclose information to the authorities or lead to the arrest of a family member - except perhaps Uncle Leonard." Tristise wasn't lying. She disapproved of the family and wanted them stopped, but she'd prefer to stop them herself rather than have the authorities do it. She would rather not sully the name of deceased family members or innocent ones by having the family's name plastered in the newspapers are criminals - thieves and murderers. She'd rather not have her name openly associated with known felons and filth. It was one thing for her to know the people she was related to were so low and awful, it was completely different for the world to know.

"I know this, yes, but many members of the family see an angry child who hates her relatives and they have often brought to my attention their concerns that you would turn traitor. I may run this family, but a simple 'she won't' will not always suffice to wash away their worries. They have asked me since you started this behavior to have you do a mission - before the usual age. I have continuously turned them down with excuse after excuse, but now you are of age - seven months past your birthday - and I cannot put it off any longer." Adair leaned forward in his chair, his hands resting on his knees as he looked Tristise in the eyes, "I need you to do this mission. I picked it especially for you. It's simple and easy, but important. All I need from you is for you to use that lycan stealth to slip into an establishment in Knockturn Alley and steal a document. It should go smoothly and you shouldn't have to confront anyone, but the mission is imperative to our operations so if you do this mission our loyalty will not be questioned. At least not by the majority of the family."

Tristise pursed her lips and crossed her arms tighter across her chest, "If I'm still not interested?"

Her grandfather's face contorted into a look of sorrow, "Tristise, please. I may be the head of the family, but I can only do so much to protect you. If you make it difficult for me there's even less I can do."

"So I see. Uncle Leonard demonstrated exactly how well you can protect me from our own family," She hadn't meant to be so harsh or even to say it out loud, but the words came and she watched as anger, followed by a deep regret passed Adair's face.

"He will be reprimanded severely for his misjudgment. I came as soon as I found out that he had asked to see you. I'm sorry I was late, but I cannot help how quickly my informants move." He ran a hand over his thinning hair and stood. "Just do this mission and secure your safety in this house until you can move out. Yes, don't think I didn't know you wanted to - it's blatantly obvious."

"I tried hard to make it that obvious."

"Well it was. Once you leave this house you should be fine so long as you choose wisely who you interact with which I have no doubt you will do. Until you leave this house you need to do whatever you can to keep your relatives at bay, even if it means doing a mission and helping those relatives when you really don't want, child. Do this, I'm not giving you a choice anymore. You will do this."

"Or what? Or you'll torture me or have Lenny do it? Or you'll let him kill me like you let him kill Aunt Fiona?" Tristise spat the words at her grandfather like they were made of acid, hoping to burn and burn they did. His face fell and he stumbled back into his chair.

"Is that why you hate us so much? How did you find out about it?"

"I saw it. I saw him kill her and I saw you arrive to late to stop it so instead you covered it up! I watched my mother and father stand by and say nothing, do nothing, as Uncle Leonard murder my aunt - my favorite aunt - and her unborn child. His unborn child. I also overheard when you informed every active member of the family that she was killed by another family on her way home from the store and that the incident was not to be spoken of again so the family didn't realize how they got to us. They were just supposed to move on. How many members of that other family were murdered in compensation for my aunt's death? How many of them died or were injured for my uncle's crime?" Tristise had stood by this point, but her voice was surprisingly calm. When she envisioned this talk she had always thought she'd scream, but now that the time came she found she didn't have the energy. She was enraged, she was still raw and hurting from the memories, but she wasn't screaming.

Maybe the muscle spasms had exhausted her. Maybe all her recent raging had exhausted her. Maybe all the years of waiting for this moment had simply made her so prepared her animal instincts were actually overridden by logic for once. Whatever the reason she was simply speaking - with cold, cruel conviction,yes, but it was still at a normal decibel. She had to let the rage show in her eyes and the way her hands were tightly fisted at her sides, but it did the trick. Adair sat still, watching his granddaughter with sadness, guilt, and perhaps a bit of fear. It wouldn't be surprising - it would be scary to see a normally explosive girl so restrained. One would be expected to sit in fear, waiting for the threads to snap, the explosion to come.

"I do not know how many died for his crime. I never ordered anything to be done about it. In fact, I explicitly told the family not to take action. Without my knowledge they might have taken revenge, but I believe I would most certainly know if they did. Tristise, I never meant to let your uncle go unpunished for what he did, but he is my son - crazy fool or not. I cannot easily order him to be tortured or killed and I do not condone violence among family ---" Adair was cut short as Tristise turned and kicked over her chair.

"Don't condone it? No! You just let those guilty of it move on with life sans punishment! Don't try to tell me he was ever even reprimanded. What did you do, send him on vacation and refuse to talk to him for a month? Yes, I'm sure he was deeply wounded and found himself properly humbled and regretful after that. The man is psychotic. He needs to be locked up, away from the world, but you let him roam free. You keep him close to you and your family. Why? Because he'll do whatever dirty job you want him to with happiness, right?"

"Tristise Rederick, watch your tongue! You don't understand anything about the way I run this family or the reasons we do what we do. I don't expect you, but regardless of your ignorance you have no right to reprimand me for wanting to keep my children by me and loving them despite their problems. You should understand Leonard well. I treat you as I do him, I protect you despite the fact that you too seem to be a bit unstable. I protect you and keep you close even though you're a liability to this family. You should understand that at least." Adair growled and stood again, tall and straight, jaw clenched.

Tristise stared back at him, her eyes hard and emotionless, "I don't understand a damn thing. I don't understand why our family is a bunch of criminals. I don't understand why they kill and steal and get away with it all."

"One day you will. One day I will explain it to you, but today is not that day. You don't deserve to know until you straighten out and experience the family business first hand. Do your mission, do it well. Keep yourself safe, make my ob easier. Perhaps you'll come to understand the family on your own without any explanation from me. You are dismissed, go to your room until it's time for you to leave." The normally loving grandfather was a bit more stern than Tristise was used to. It didn't scare her any - Tris was not easily frightened - but nonetheless she was compelled to follow his orders. Not happily, not without her usual stubbornness still in tact, but she would do as he ordered if for no other reason than she was extremely curious about two things - what information her family wanted and why her family was the way it was.

"Yes, grandfather. Whatever you want." Her words were spoken harshly, sarcastically, but she turned and left. Her grandfather went to speak again, but Tristise grunted, "Save it, I don't want to talk anymore," before slamming the door behind her and heading to her room.

---------------

The building was dark as it came into view around the corner. Tristise noted the buildings on either side of it were dark as well. A little further down the street there was light and the sounds of shouting, singing, and other bar raucous, but in the immediate vicinity of where she needed to be everything was quiet.

She moved closer, sticking to the shadows of overhangs, awnings, and alleyways. Even though the street was empty she didn't trust simply walking up to the place in question. Paranoid? Perhaps, but with good reason. She reached the front door of the shop and checked the street again. She didn't want to go in from the front, it was too exposed. Instead, the lycaness slipped further down the street and into the next alley, finding a side door and turning the handle to test if it was open. It didn't budge, which was to be expected - it was locked. Tristise pulled out her wand and tapped it against the locked lightly, "Alohamora."

Her lycan hearing picked up a soft, nearly imperceptible click. Trying the handle again she found it now turning easily in her hand. She pushed the door open slowly, carefully. It creaked slightly, but nothing horrendous. Nothing that would wake a sleeping person unless they were in the room beyond and an extremely light sleeper. Beyond the door was a storage room - no sleeping people there. She slipped through the small gap she'd made in the doorway and shut the door as silently as she could behind herself. Once inside and after a quick scan of her surrounds she lifted the hood of her cloak off her head and let it fall to her back.

The room was dusty, she noted as she looked down and saw the hem of her black cloak now looked rather grey. She knew Knockturn Alley was a place for thugs and thieves, lowlifes, but did they have to be so disgustingly uncleanly just because their reputations were? Grimacing she removed the cape from her shoulders, shook it out quietly, and folded it up before tucking it into the small bag slung at her hip. Wizard space was so handy at times.

She headed further in, making her way to another door on the far side of the room past all the rickety wood shelving that held Merlin knows what grotesque or ungodly items. She opened the door slowly and peeked into the adjoining room, finding it void of people and sparsely furnished. She slid into it and noted the staircase at the back that lead up to the office (or so she was told). She made her way toward it, pausing as her acute hearing picked up sound. Listening, everything went quiet again. She waited a while longer - still nothing. Tristise started up the staircase silently, stopping to listen again when she neared the landing. When everything was still quiet she crossed to the office door and turned the handle, letting the door swing in of it's own accord.

It squeaked once, briefly, then opened the rest of the way without a sound. The office appeared to be empty so she moved inside the room cautiously and headed for the first filing cabinet she could see. She had no idea where she was supposed to find the information she need to get, but filing cabinets were a good place to start. Rifling through the folders she mentally ticked them off as she went, 'Budget, no. Inventory, no. Holiday vacation expenses, no. Old Daily Prophet clippings, no. So much for this mission being quick and easy.' She needed one paper, just one paper about some old trade the owner made, but there seemed to be no order to the filing and nothing about trades of any sort.

She shut the draw and move on to the next one. Looking around she noticed seven other filing cabinets around the room. Sighing she went back to her search. 'Needle in a haystack? Check.'

[brogan vassar]

He had a mission to complete, and he would be sure to do so. Nobody within his company readily volunteered for the task, even if it wasn't particularly daunting. Or that could be just it, the mission was too bland for his experienced colleagues. Thus, Brogan, was left to complete the ordinary, yet highly significant task. Every mission held great importance, there was never an outing for something pointless; each task had a significant gain in the end.

Brogan's dirty and bleach blonde hair was a mess; his lack of sleep being the culprit. It stuck up in every which way, but somehow gave him that rugged, sexy look. His facial hair had grown out ever so slightly, producing appealing stubbles to accompany his wild hair. He was dressed in all black, as was mandatory for every mission. Dark colors were a must, it prevented people from having their eyes drawn to him. Brogan sported a dark long sleeved v-neck - in which he'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows - and simple black jeans. He didn't want to bring any unnecessary attention upon himself.

He stealthily walked through the alleyways, noticing there were less and less people as he neared the desired location. Brogan smiled to himself, thinking that this would be a piece of cake - go in, grab the paper and get out. There would be no witnesses, he could get away unscathed. With his mood considerably lifted he smiled all the way to the building. It didn't take him long to reach it, and he carefully took in his surroundings. He still saw no sign of danger.

Brogan assessed the main entrance and decided that it was too open, he'd rather climb through a window than be that vulnerable to potential passer-bys. He crept along the building, searching for the best window or preferably, another entrance. After a few moments of walking, he was in luck. There, well hidden on the side of the building was a door. Looking around once more he readied himself to pick the lock. He turned the handle as a precaution, and was startled to find it unlocked. Brogan's brow furrowed, he hadn't seen any lights on. Chances were, nobody was there... they'd probably just forgotten to lock the second door. He knew he'd have to be more careful, as there was a chance that somebody would catch him sneaking in.

Of course, with his experience he would have an excuse for everything, even if he were to get caught.

Throwing caution into the wind he opened the door, trying to be as quiet as humanly possible. Brogan had gotten used to sneaking into places, it was one of the missions his father always made him do. He knew how to be quiet, how to assess his surroundings, and how to contort his bod to hide or to fit into spaces.

Brogan creeped through the dark building, hardly breathing. He knew even the sound of heavy breathing could startle someone if they were within the vicinity. It didn't take him long to locate the office. He managed to fight his way through the dark and the dust. He was convinced that nobody was inside the building, and so he opened the door. He didn't do so without caution, he only opened it to the point where he was able to slip through. Smiling at his success he slid through the space, walking into the office and preparing to hunt for the valuable piece of parchment.

And then he saw her.

Brogan had almost experienced a heart-attack on the spot, just barely stopping himself from gasping. He hadn't seen this coming. He dove for cover behind a shelf, managing to land with little noise. He wasn't going to panic, he had to get the paper. Brogan pondered his options, he could knock her out with a spell. He peered up at her, looking at her long blonde hair. Long blonde hair... it looked so familiar, even in the dark office. It reminded him of... that girl he'd met a few days ago. He gritted his teeth at the memory. She was the last person he'd want to encounter. Why in the hell did she work here? Then his assumption was confirmed. Brogan got a glimpse at her beautiful face, and was reminded of the bitter bitch within...

It was Tristise.

His frustrations got the better of him, and he jumped up from his hiding place and walked over to her. "What are you doing here?" he asked blatantly. He couldn't understand why she was in the dark rummaging through the office... There was no way Tristise worked here He could tell by her demeanour, and the fact that the lights weren't on. She couldn't be here for the same reasons as him... not on the same night.

Brogan didn't have time for her, she drained his energy... and he couldn't waste time here. He had to complete the task and go. He tried to restrain from strangling her... he really, really did not want her company tonight.

[Tristise Rederick]

Tristise smelled him coming long before he openly made his presence known. He was good - quiet. She heard him, but had passed it off as negligible sounds he was that quiet. However, thanks to her lycan senses she had numerous ways to detect him. Since he probably wasn't expecting anyone else here - let alone a wolf - his scent wasn't masked at all and she picked it up as soon as he reached the room at the other end of the staircase. She was amazed she'd picked it up that soon considering all the dust and dirt floating around the place.

When he entered the room his smell was quite prominent and slightly... familiar. She followed his movements without actually turning to look at him. When he slumped into a space nearby she casually opened another draw to rifle through and pulled out an unmarked folder. Before she had a chance to look into it he seemed to recognize her and jumped out of his hiding spot to yell at her.

She turned to face the man and realized why he smelled familiar. He was the infuriating boy from the Three Broomsticks. He sure was a spit fire, wasn't he? She smirked at him and put a hand on her black leather clad hip. Since it was summer she was dressed in leather shorts and a leather halter top instead of long attire like Brogan had opted for. With her cloak on it didn't matter what she was wearing really, but Tris figured she should have a little fun with her mission. If she had to do it she could at least feel like a spy or something while on the job. For a pathetic, lonely girl she could still be playful when it was for herself and herself alone.

"Well, well, well. What a... surprise." No, really. What a surprise. A bad fucking surprise. Wasn't this supposed to be an easy mission? That's what her grandfather had said. Now she had to deal with this fucking shit? Oh hell no. "Since I was here first I think it's only appropriate for me to ask you that question, don't you think?" If he hadn't been so quiet and sneaky she might have assumed he worked there, but no... he didn't seem the type anyway.

Tris moved over to the desk with her folder and sat on the edge, crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands. Risky move? Maybe, but she didn't think he was skilled enough to be able to take her out before she took him out. Being a lycan was full of perks. Speed, strength, sight, smell, hearing - all multiplied. She looked Brogan up and down slowly, taking in his dirty blond hair and stubble as well as his attire, and raised an eyebrow. "You realize it's summer, right? Aren't you dying in those clothes? And haven't you heard of shaving? It's this nifty little thing that gets rid of that unsightly fur on that mug of yours."

What could she do to get rid of him? Somehow she figured telling him to bugger off wouldn't do it. He seemed too stubborn for that, too headstrong. Maybe she could annoy him until he had leave to keep his sanity? How did she manage it last time - by just being herself? Well then, this should be easy, right? "I wished you had RSVPed for this party, I would have made sure to bring your money from the other day when your pansy ass tried to act all manly and walk away. Too bad it didn't work, huh?"

Now that she found him skulking about here she had to wonder though. Was his manliness an act or his pansiness? She wished he wouldn't keep her guessing - it was making her very annoyed and an annoyed Tris was never any good.

[brogan vassar]

His vivid blue eyes scanned her face, searching for both the reason for her presence and some trace of kindness. Brogan knew he'd find nothing for the the latter, but was hoping to find out why she was in the office, going through papers. Imagine if she were looking for the same thing as him... His brow furrowed, and he questioned the likelihood of her needing the information.

She spoke, and Brogan noted how she sounded oddly like a villain you'd hear on television, when the good guy fell perfectly into the villain's trap. Brogan had no time for manners or apologies, he meant strictly business. He would not let her distract him from his task, his company was depending on that one, vital piece of information. "Don't play games, " he said sternly, walking over to where she sat cross-legged on the desk. He put his hands on either side of her, leaning toward her with a look of suspicion. "No, I don't think so," his words were once again spoken quite blatantly. "Why are you here?" he asked again, his voice was low, quiet even. He didn't want to have to do anything drastic...

But if Tristise were be a threat he'd have to tie her up, throw her in a closet, anything... He needed that paper. Brogan could only imagine how humiliating it would be to tell his employees that he'd been unable to locate the information due to a particularly frustrating blonde.

He was momentarily distracted from his threats to get her to talk when she outwardly started mocking him. It was a repeat of the night he'd met her, version 2.0. Brogan rolled his eyes and pulled back from her, and then stopped to look at her in disbelief. "Are you seriously going to do this, again... You bore me," he announced, he was very convincing, he needed to try a new tactic. His prior behaviour had only gotten him called a pansy. This time he spoke in the calm voice he'd left her with the other night. Surely his lack of anger would drive her nuts, she would hate that she couldn't get under his skin.

Besides, he planned to get out of the office - with the paper - in due time. He looked around the room, trying to decide what he could do with her. "You poor thing," he said suddenly, condescending. "You just can't handle having a man pay for you... I understand, you want to be independent," he proceeded to pout at her, tilting his head adorably to the side as he, essentially, mocked her.

When he'd met her she'd caught him off guard - he was intoxicated and startled by her behaviour. Now that Brogan knew what kind of personality lay beneath her deceiving surface, he could handle her. And now, on a mission he had no time for her bullshit. Tristise would soon find she was messing with someone that had more power than she could imagine. Not many 20-some year olds were in charge of a full-fledged, well-profiting business. And if she thought she could insult him without him fighting back, she was wrong, dead wrong.

"Now, I have something very important to do... So if you wouldn't mind..." he said, glancing at her, than toward the door. She needed to go, and he didn't want to have to make her.

[Tristise Rederick]

He approached her and told her not to play games as he made the distance between them far too close for the lycaness' comfort. Of course, at this distance she could easily tear into his throat and rip out his jugular with her pretty canines. He asked her again why she was there and she decided to be honest. What good would lying do anyway? Obviously it was clear she didn't work there. She was after something. So was he. Wouldn't it be amusing if they were both after the same thing? Hardly.

"Brogan, right? Yes, well, I'm here to find some information and sneak off with it. I do so hope that's not a problem for you." Ok, the last bit was a lie. She didn't care if it was a problem.

She bored him? She bored him? Oh, he was hilarious. He stepped back, a good move on his part. Tristise sat up a little straighter and folded her hands in her lap, folder still in her grasp. She didn't particularly mind not getting under his skin. There were other methods for getting him out of her way. She was only hoping to use a less messy method, but if he wanted to be difficult she'd make do with whatever worked best. It wasn't like Tris' aim in life was to bother people. She managed to do so often, but it wasn't her goal. It was just that her usual demeanor annoyed people, but that's how she was and she didn't intend to change that for anyone.

Brogan mocked her back and she narrowed her eyes briefly, before giving him a cruel smirk, "Dear boy, I do believe it was you who couldn't handle a girl paying for your drinks. That's why you threw down the money and ran, right? It's a new day and age, no need to feel like less of a man because a girl wants to treat you. Of course, it must be hard for you to feel like less of man anyway, right? I mean how much of a man are you to begin with?"

If he thought he was badass he had another think coming. It was him who was in the dark about his opponent's power. He might be strong, powerful, and wealthy, but Tristise's family was stronger, more powerful, and wealthier. Not to mention he had no idea of the strength Tristise had all her own. He might put up a good fight in battle, but there was no doubt in Tris' mind who would win the war. When he shooed her she finally found herself losing restraint over her temper. She growled low and hopped off the desk, shoving him roughly and baring slightly elongated canines at him, "Actually, I do mind. I'm not going anywhere until I get the information I came for. The fact that I personally don't give two shits about this mission be damned. I won't be told by the likes of some wimpy bastard to leave."

She lashed out and grabbed his throat to shove him toward the door. "If you have any sense of self preservation I think it should be you who leaves." In her angered haze she had loosened her grip on the folder in her hand and the paper inside fell to the ground. Her eyes traveled down to them and speedily scanned the words on the page. Item. Magic. Woman. Trade. Trade? Tristise cocked her head to the side and then stooped down to pick up the sheet of possibly useful information.

[brogan vassar]

Brogan couldn’t believe that out of every person in the world Tristise was the one showing up during his mission. What had he done so wrong in his life to deserve the knowledge of someone so infuriating? The mere sight of her sent uneasy shivers down the length of his spine. He could no longer believe why he had felt the need to talk to her, to date her. Any trace of those emotions were long gone, he was shut off to her, but beneath his calm lie a fiery temper.

“What information?” Brogan stared, startled. Was it possible she were after the same thing? He could only imagine the horror if she were. “It can’t be the same thing I’m looking for… It can’t be,” his words were hushed, as he stared at her in disbelief. He needed to hear from her that the information she was in need of was in no way similar to what he was after. It could be purely coincidental that the items they were searching for were in the same office… And why would Tristise need what he needed? There was no way her ‘family business’ could be the same as his. He remembered she used the word when he’d met her, and that’s often the phrase he used for his own situation.

Brogan was glad he didn’t let her words sting, there was nothing that came out of her mouth that could hurt him – anger him? Yes, that was very possible, but not hurt. “It’s sad that you have to question whether or not I am a man, because trust me, Trissy, if given the opportunity I would not disappoint,” he gave her a long stare, his eyes gleaming with the hatred he already felt for her. He moved away from her once more, speaking the nick name he knew she’d despise in her ear.

He was tired of her antics already, she would not win with him, no matter how powerful she thought she may be. He would not give her opportunity to question how much of a man he was again – obviously apologies did not sit well with the woman. “Oh please, I paid simply for the reason to have one up on you – to show you exactly who the man was. I did not need anymore reason for you to despise me, though it seems nothing pleases you,” this statement was said as he looked her up and down, as if attesting to his own words.

Brogan’s eyes widened briefly as he observed canine-like fangs. It’s not like he’d never seen the likes before, it was just disappointing that she actually did have a bite to back up her bark. (Though, with that bark of hers a bite was clearly unnecessary.) “You don’t have to leave,” he said, using the height he had on her as an advantage, standing tall and looking down at her. In fact, she could stay for all he cared. It would only take him a matter of minutes to find what he’d come for, and whether or not she was there annoying him really would not matter.

Before he could speak again she’d lunged for his throat, and Brogan noted her strength. It was a piss off, that she had this power over him. If she were going to be in his life for any longer he’d be sure to run into a creature and beg to be turned. Brogan did not want Tristise to have anything on him, he wondered if there were a spell to reverse her being a lycaness.

He noticed that she’d been distracted from forcing him out, and he glanced down at what she saw – a paper? It looked similar to what he needed. Her moment of distraction gave him time to grab his wand from his pocket, and he quickly said, “Stupefy!” though he did not use his full power, instead he only stunned her with the spell. He grabbed the paper from the floor, moving over to a desk to sit, much like Tristise had. His eyes began to scan the information.

[Tristise Rederick]

{OOC: Sorry this is so late! And crappy! My muse really hates me and now I have a jobish thing too and it's been hectic >.<;; Anyway, here ya go!}

This guy was going to meet an untimely end. At first Tristise figured he was annoying, sure, but she didn't really have the urge to kill him. Then he just kept talking and talking and before she knew it she could picture her claws and fangs digging deep into his flesh and puncturing vital organs - tearing them wide open as she ripped her way back out. She'd start with his stomach so he'd experience some pain before dying. Then his lungs if she could get her hand up in here (which she figured she'd actually find easy once he had that hole in his stomach). Then she'd end his misery, if the weakling hadn't given up the ghost already, by sinking her pearly whites into his jugular and giving a good chomp.

Brogan would have been better off keeping his mouth shut. No questions, no comebacks, no nicknames. Trissy? Honestly? Only Jimjams was allowed to call her that. Hell, only a hand full of people were allowed to call her Tris, let alone anything... "cuter". She snarled at him and flexed her hands in an attempt to hold off her murderous urges. She was not a killer. She wasn't. She wasn't. She'd make an exception for him.

"I don't have to leave? You're damn right I don't. I don't take orders from you, you stupid fuck. I don't give two shits if you mind if I stay or go." He was really an arrogant bastard. It wasn't like he had any reason to be. He wasn't that good looking and he was a terrible thief. Honestly, he made way too much noise. If those damn papers hadn't distracted her she would have sent him on his way already.

Instead she ended up stunned. Granted it was a terribly weak spell and against Tris' fast recovery rate - oh the perks of being a lycan, let me count the ways - it was hardly anything to bat a lash at, but it royally pissed her off. Brogan snatched up the papers and went to sit like she had moments ago and read them. Tristise stood frozen in place a few moments, but her heart was pounding and her mind was racing through various ways to torture a person trying to figure out which way would cause him the most pain. When the spell finally wore off her muscles immediately tensed and she spun and lunged for the boy on the desk without thought nor care for the noise it would make.

She was done playing. She wanted to kill him, grab the papers, and go back to the house to be done with this stupid initiation bullshit. She just wanted to move out and be left the hell alone. She didn't want to be another servant to her family's greed. She shoved Brogan onto his back and pinned him to the desk, knees braced on either side of his legs and hands holding his arms crossed against his chest. "That is the information I'm looking for. If you don't mind, and even if you do, I'll be taking it now," she growled, leaning her face close to his, resisting the urge to tear said face off.

She jumped back, off the desk, grabbing the papers in the process, gripping them tightly in case he had any idea to stun her again. Her hand would be frozen around those pages like a rock. He was a human. He was weak. She couldn't kill him even though everything in her was screaming to do so. Her fangs poking against her snarling lips kept reminding her of her urges, kept spurring her on. That feeling almost made her... hungry. The problem was she could kill him too easily. Her family were the ones who mowed over helpless foes who couldn't defend themselves. Tristise was not her family. She didn't kill the defenseless. Though he did have a wand, but really - a lot of good he seemed to be able to do with that.

Tris started backing toward the door, eyes trained on the annoying blond boy. Why wasn't she just leaving? She was a lycan, she could have been gone before he recovered from her pounce before, but instead it was like she was playing fair. She put it down to her growing desire to kill him. It was making it difficult for her to just leave. She wasn't actually playing fair, giving him some sort of chance. She just couldn't easily push aside her desire for his blood and his last breath because honestly, Tristise was a Rederick whether she wanted to be or not and they did not play fair. Right? Right.

[brogan vassar]

{ It’s okay – I’m just glad you posted! And hectic-ness = ick. }

It was clear to Brogan that he was angering her, and although this knowledge should have frightened him he felt a wave of pleasure course through him. Knowing that he could upset Tristise made him quite happy, it was a miracle that he could get under her skin, too. He tried to resist the urge to smile, for he could practically visualize her irises engulfed in angry flames.

“Awwww,” Brogan dragged out, taunting her as he pouted at her. “When you get angry you can’t make a comeback,” he said the words as if sympathizing with a helpless child. Of course Tristise was anything but, maybe he was just too confident. “In fact, you have to resort to swearing even,” he now feigned shock, his mouth left open. “And I thought you were slicker than that,” he made a tsking sound now.

Was he an idiot for angering a lycaness? Maybe. But quite frankly, Brogan didn’t care what she was – a bitch was a bitch.

His eyes began to scan the papers and – holy mother of hell – it looked like what he needed. Yes, within the pages was the exact item he’d came for. He attempted to mask his face, and still prayed that Tristise didn’t want what he did.

His weakened spell did not last long on her, and he certainly did not have time to move when she lunged for him. His human heart definitely sped up, his breathing labored as she pinned him. He winced at the horrible crashing sound the blow made. “Tristise…” he groaned, momentarily biting his lip. “If you’re going to kill me, can you at least do it quietly?” the last thing Brogan wanted was to get caught. Yes, perhaps he’d rather die than get caught.

Everything with Tristise would be so much easier if she wasn’t so damn attractive. He couldn’t help but be turned on by her, even as the hatred burned hot within him. Hell, maybe that contributed. She was an evil goddess, she was bad ass. He’d never been more attracted to someone – and yet, he’d never been so infuriated by someone.

Brogan contemplated how he could despise and desire somebody so fiercely, all at the same time. She spoke to him, and when she leaned in it took all he had not to close the small distance, to shut her up – to kiss her passionately. The man was nearly disgusted with himself. Yet her beauty… it was undeniable. And if only that fiery temper of hers, that attitude… Oh, it could be used in other ways.

Luckily for them both she jumped back, it was clear that he was eying her lips, nearly licking his own. What had gotten in to him? He was on a mission, interfered with by the woman he hated more than anything. Sometimes being a guy sucked; he could easily lose track of all else when faced with a woman of such attractiveness; especially when she was pressed against him, when they were both consumed by hot anger.

Brogan did get out of his stupor, and noticed she was still there. And yes – she had the paper he needed. And yes, he knew – he just knew – she had come for the exact same thing. He reached out, and pulled the blonde to him, so her back was pressed against his hard chest. He may be human, but he was still quite strong. His hours spent working on his physique could attest to that. He held her, as if it were a hug – though it was clear it was a much more violent hold.

“Why do you need these papers?” he asked quietly, his face pressed into her silky golden locks, his lips inches from her ear. He didn’t want to be loud, Brogan did not want someone to discover them. He wished there was a way to tame her.

To tame himself…

[Tristise Rederick]

His taunts did little to help his case, but by the time the papers were in her hand she could care less. She had what she needed and she could go so she was getting over his stupid comments rather quickly.

What she didn't recover from so quickly? Being pulled against him and restrained. He was strong from a human. He certainly didn't look as strong as his hold said he was. It wasn't like she couldn't break out of it, but for a moment she was dumbfounded. What did he think he was doing? It gave her chills having his arms around her like that. She didn't like being nearly hugged and that's sort of what it was. Tris was not a hugger and she didn't like anything resembling hugs either even if they were actually violent holds.

And then his mouth right by her ear whispering? What a freak this boy was. What? Was he trying to distract her with his charm and seduction techniques? Wouldn't work. Tris grit her teeth and squirmed in his hold, turning herself around, her grip still tight on the papers. "Why do I need these papers? So my family will leave me be and they said they'll do so if I got them these papers. Besides, what the Rederick family wants, the Rederick family gets." She stressed the family's name when she said it. While she figured he'd probably still fight her on this because he seemed like that much of a cocky bastard, he should at least know who he was dealing with, especially since it was the Redericks.

Tristise wasn't lying. What they wanted, her family got. If by some miracle he got out of here with the papers he could be sure they would hunt him down and retrieve them at all costs. Tris would even help them in that case. She wouldn't pass up an opportunity to kill him if he ruined her chances of appeasing the family and getting away from the bastards.

"Now then, let me go before I have to rip your arms out of their sockets. Well, actually I wouldn't have to, but I would anyway just for the fun of it." She gave him a half-smirk half-sneer - just revealing enough to show off those pretty fangs of hers again.

{ooc: -uses her Jedi mind tricks- that post was not as bad as it seems!}

[brogan vassar]

ooc: oh wow, that was the bestest longest post ever! pretend mine is just as good.

The last thing Brogan wanted to do was to seduce this hotheaded ‘lady’. He just wanted her to stop, and he wanted her to shut up so that she wouldn’t alert the whole town of their whereabouts. Brogan could tell she wasn’t experienced in completing missions, he would never have her in his business, he was sure she’d give herself away every time. Her temper out ruled everything; common sense, common courtesy…

Brogan only absorbed one word from her snap at him, and oh lucky him, she repeated it several times. “Rederick?” he spoke, surprised, staring at her with even more disgust than when he’d first realized how rotten her personality was. “You’re a Rederick?” he openly sighed, growling at the revelation. His family and the Rederick family didn’t have the most wonderful history. The Rederick family always seemed to have one up on his, and when he took over it was his very intention to end them, or to at least show them who the more badass family was.

“Figures you’d be a damn Rederick,” he immediately grabbed the other end of the papers, making sure that she wouldn’t run off with them before he could catch her. He moved away from their close proximity, but proceeded to tug on the papers. She’d have to pry them out of his dead hands before he’d let her win. “You are so disturbing, so rude… there aren’t even words to describe you! Just give me the damn papers and get out of my face – I never want to run into you again… You psychotic bitch!” he gave the paper’s a decent tug, attempting to free them from her crazy she-wolf grip.

She appalled him.

[Tristise Rederick]

Her temper definitely wasn't her best trait, but on the plus side even if she was caught with her temper there was no way it'd be a problem. What was a few dead bodies to the Rederick family? Nothing. While Tristise hated her family, she had to admit some of their talents for making problems disappear could come in handy. If only they could make the problem in front of her disappear before she had to resort to biting his throat out.

Her desire to kill him lessened though as he responded to her name. Something about the way he spat 'Rederick' almost like a curse gave her this funny feeling. She could relate to that hatred of the name. She could relate to that horrible taste it left in your mouth. If only he knew just how much she disliked her own family. Surely he'd find that amusing especially since he seemed to think she was just as awful as all of them. Maybe she was in some ways. More similar than she could even guess or would like to admit.

He started bitching at her and she couldn't help the small smirk that crossed her lips. His aggravation now that he knew who she was seemed to come to a boil. However, as he tugged on the papers her annoyance with him slowly came back and the smirk faded. "Oh stop your sniveling you pompous ass! I'm not giving you anything and it should be me saying I never want to see you again!" When he called her a psychotic bitch she yanked the papers at the same time he did. She heard a ripping sound and glanced down to see a rift traveling halfway through them.

At the same moment she heard and smelt someone moving about downstairs. "Who's there? Nealy, that you up there?" Tristise growled and tugged on the papers again, leaning forward and growling threateningly in his face. Up close she could smell him clearly and her growl only deepened. She tore herself away and half the papers with her. The footsteps were at a jog up the stairs - a slow one. The man was clearly a little on the pudgy side whoever he was. She moved toward the window and threw it open, Crouching onto the sill and ducking herself out. She looked back only briefly with another sneer before turning back and putting what she had of the papers into her mouth.

She leap toward the ground, morphing as she did so. She landed in a flurry of silver and beige fur and sprinted off into the darkness, a very foreign feeling churning, burning in the pit of her stomach.

He intrigued her.

{ooc: umm yeah I did want to drag it out further, but then I was just writing and it just felt right to end it. @.@ let's finish this one up and move on to sekkrit meetings in shady places, shall we?}

[brogan vassar]

"Why you? What have I done to you! You must act this way toward everyone..." he mumbled the last part, he was thoroughly done with her. There was no way he could handle such an intense woman. Although in ways it could seem perfect - he couldn't handle the stress of it. He'd surely begin to lose his hair if forced to spend any more time with the ferocious lycaness.

And then he heard a voice, there was no mistaking it. He didn't have special she-wolf-bitch hearing, but there was no mistaking it. "I knew your damned loudness would alert someone!" his voice was a low growl, just loud enough for her to hear. And then she pulled on the papers, and he responded with a hefty tug of his own. Then, of course, they ripped. He would have screamed if they weren't about to be caught. "For fuck's sake Tristise!" were the last words he hissed to her, glaring at her retreating back.

She was gone, the damn lycaness - he knew it. He gazed out the window, making sure. He then, with his half of the papers in hand leaped out of the window. Using his wand he summoned a spell that cushioned his landing, and he simply bounced to his feet. He was glad that she knew to leave, he could have swore they'd get caught just because she'd want to stay and fight.

Brogan ran off before the approaching man could even look out the window. He only hoped that his half of the papers had enough information. His staff would not be impressed with this one.

They'd probably get a good laugh at Brogan, chuckling that their new boss couldn't even complete a paper-stealing mission. But they would have no idea what he was up against. If they could spend even one minute with Tristise they would understand completely...

He shook his head, and continued to run.