It was a slow day, thankfully. She hadn't had to move many appointments around in order to make room for the one she was expecting within the next ten minutes. Because it was business related in a small sense she'd scheduled it for her largest studio and had prepped in advance to procure the appropriate drinks and snacks for her scheduled guest, ones she knew he happened to like from their previous, brief interactions.

Shelly was stationed at her desk, calmly flipping through a few of her newest commission requests while she waited. Her office was small and rather plain in decoration. She didn't fancy clutter, instead preferring to keep things neat and tidy with expensive accents to bring some atmosphere into the room. In some ways, her own fashion sense had bled into the decoration of her office.

She typically fancied mature, semi-conservative office attire... but she had been known to sometimes switch it up depending on who she was expecting. Today she'd stuck with a well fitted red pencil skirt that tapered to slight ruffle just above her knees, with a long sleeved, bow neck, black sheer blouse and a black lace bralette underneath. Classy, with a touch of sex appeal. Her favorite, usual style. She patiently tapped one six inch heel under her desk and glanced at the clock on her desk.

Right on time, there was a knock at her office door. She rose from her seat and moved around to the front of her desk as her assistant, Jeremy, opened the door and led her guest in.

"Thank you, Jeremy." She fixed a polite smile on her face, red lips barely quirked. "Good afternoon, Mr. Cole." She extended a hand, before turning to resume her seat at her desk.

Ahh, work. His favorite @^&*ing thing. Ever. He sure as #$^& didn't have better things to be doing today, like, I dunno, french kissing a model that owed Poseidon money or something.

Still, it wasn't so bad. At least the work today was hot, right? Ornery as #$&*, but hot. Dressed like a #$^%ing clown, but who cared if he got a shot at taking all that off, right? He strode into the office, perfectly on time, with his hands in his pockets, wearing the standard garb of a SUPER member. Black blazer, white button up. His presentation of it was a little less standard, though; he was loose, top buttons open.

The soldier stopped a few steps in, and looked over to her assistant. "Oh yeah, thanks Jeremy. You get a gold star on your calendar for the day!" He patted the quaint looking young man on the shoulder, who looked somewhat confused, and just a it frightened at the man touching him.

D9 Quickly got bored with him, and dismissed him, turning to Shelly, who offered a hand. He paused, and tilted his head. "Shelly, come on, we're buddies, here! Bring it in!" He stepped in, awkwardly embracing her. Why? He knew she didn't like touching people, and he loved to make her feel uncomfortable. It got a rise out of her, and getting a rise out of people who felt like that owned the world really felt just.... #$^&ing perfect.

He broke the hug, and then stepped back to see the results of his handiwork.

"How's it goin? It's been, what, a month? Sh%$, time really flies when you're havin so much fun, huh?"

@#$% it all.

One perfectly lined eye twitched ever so slightly due to the unplanned embrace, which she did not return, but her carefully sculpted business face didn't falter in the slightest. She dealt with men like him on a fairly regular basis and had developed a rather professional way to deal with such invasions of her own personal space without having to directly confront them on the matter. It was messy and tended to start off business ventures on the wrong foot.

She would simply send a bill to those he worked for, carefully crafted by her personal lawyer of course. Given this man's unhinged profession approach to most things typically her inquiries on the matter were resolved quickly and quietly.

Still bothered the hell out of her though, even if she was reimbursed in some fashion later.

Shelly made a slight show of smoothing her clothes out when he finally released her, before returning to her desk.

"How's it goin? It's been, what, a month? Sh%$, time really flies when you're havin so much fun, huh?"

"Not hardly fast enough, unfortunately." She quipped back, leaning back in her chair slightly. She motioned toward one of the chairs settled on the other side of her desk. "Please, take a seat. Shall we get started?" She reorganized her current work and set it off to one side, before reaching for the folder pertinent to this particular meeting.

There was a small table settled between the chairs with a pitcher and cups, as well as a small plate of simple Hors d'oeuvres.

Ahh, that eye twitch. It was all he needed.

The egg heads back at command were gonna complain again. Eh, the more pain they felt the happier he was. He couldn't push it too far, or they would really get mad.

She found her way back behind her desk, likely thankful for the barrier between them. She offered him a seat, and he happily took her up, perching on her desk and looking at the Hors d'oeuvres.

"Sweet snack table."

He coughed into his hand, and then looked down over to her. "You get the information we asked for together?" He'd e-mailed her what he needed, and let her know he would need to do some more hands on investigating, here, as well. He'd included the waggly eyebrows emoji too, so she had to know he was really invested, here.

He would go on to share information she wasn't privy to with her, because he knew she liked that #%#% more than she let on, and because he didn't care about the rules. "Guy's a real sicko, I hear... treats the ladies he pays for pretty rough. Crossed the line when he offed a cop, though. Brass doesn't like that. Nice shirt. It's still a shirt if it's see through, right?"

Her expression soured slightly when he decided to seat himself upon her desk. Her lovely stained Oak desk with a vintage flourish. Still, she didn't make a comment on the matter and simply chose to casually move a crystal vase further away from where he was sitting.

"You get the information we asked for together?"

"Of course." She replied, lifting the folder toward him. Inside were all of the various details she had on the subject Cole was looking for, from personal observations she had made to detailed information he had been required to submit while she was working with him and various banking details.

"Guy's a real sicko, I hear... treats the ladies he pays for pretty rough. Crossed the line when he offed a cop, though. Brass doesn't like that."

She leaned slightly onto her desk, fingers loosely entwined under her chin. She was smiling slightly, lips quirked at the corners, while she listened to him talk. In some ways, she didn't mind having him around. He was abrasive and brash, and certainly rude most of the time... and yet he had never really triggered any of her more prominent pet peeves.

"Sounds about right. His taste was often reflected in various things he's requested over the years." The news that he'd killed a cop wasn't new to her. She'd heard through the grapevine about it, and his subsequent lack of presence in his usual hangouts. He hadn't bothered to try and contact her since the incident, which didn't really surprise her either. While she did dabble in certain things under the table that wasn't strictly legal, it was also well known that she didn't make deals with people who might tarnish her reputation through their actions. Cop killers were definitely on the no-no list.

"Nice shirt. It's still a shirt if it's see through, right?

She leaned back again and glanced down at her sheer top and the bralette underneath shielding her ample bosom from view. "It is. Until someone decides to change the rules of fashion again." He had his file, and there wasn't much else she could really do to help the case.

... Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was more, but she wasn't convinced that she wanted to be any more involved in it. "And thank you. I figured if anyone could appreciate it, it would be you."

She stood then, gently leaning on her fingers against the desk. "Is there anything more I can help with on this matter?"

He grabbed up the folder she offered and opened it up, flipping through things hastily. Addresses, known associates. It was the usual crap. He could use the associates to get closer to him, so that would help, but he had a feeling she had more info.

"Sounds about right. His taste was often reflected in various things he's requested over the years." He perked up a bit. "Oh? Like what? Butt stuff? Strikes me as a butt stuff kinda guy. You know the type... Always got that... Butt stuff look in their eye." He grinned bit, picking up a picture of the guy, and pointing her way. "Yuuuup..."

She responded about her shirt, and he snorted a bit. "Hey, I ain't complaining. If society says you gotta be scantly clad you won't hear bad a word from me. You just warn me if @#$^ starts rolling the other way. Then I might take up protesting." He flipped through the file a bit more. Much of this he already knew from the info they had, but he could use some of it. That wasn't why he was really here, though.

He set the file down. "Shelly, c'mon... You know what I'm looking for. You're an artist... You understand. I gotta get into his head space." He leaned back, looking at her expectantly for a second. Were those wibbly eyes? A pouty face? Just a hint of it?

"You know... For the sake of the case."

"Oh? Like what? Butt stuff? Strikes me as a butt stuff kinda guy. You know the type... Always got that... Butt stuff look in their eye. Yuuuup..."

The artist chuckled lightly. Oh, she knew his type well. Too well, in some aspects. She had to physically be within the paintings with some of her clients in order for them to spend longer than 15 minutes doing whatever it was they liked to do. "Jiro Fujita is into a lot of things, and not many of them are legal outside of Japan." He practically had his own gallery of paintings in her storage room, and each one of them seemed to reflect a different kink of some sort.

"Hey, I ain't complaining. If society says you gotta be scantily clad you won't hear bad a word from me. You just warn me if @#$^ starts rolling the other way. Then I might take up protesting."

"You, and a good percentage of the female population. But, considering trends are steadily heading in the opposite direction I don't think you have much to worry about. Pretty soon we'll all be walking around in fig leaves."

She moved around her desk, still fully intent on their meeting being over. When he set the file down and turned to her with that expression on his face, she crossed her arms under her chest fixed him with a blank, unimpressed stare.

"Shelly, c'mon... You know what I'm looking for. You're an artist... You understand. I gotta get into his head space. You know... For the sake of the case."

"You know, that would be much more convincing if you didn't attempt to use the same excuse on me everytime we meet. I run a business here, Mr. Cole. I cannot become known for allowing the use of my services without my fee being paid."

She stared him down for a moment with her best b#$ch face on, before ultimately sighing. She knew he would badger her until she relented, and she wasn't sure if she had the patience for it today.

"... Just this one last time, you hear me?" Plump lips pursed as she squinted at him, before turning on her heel and marching toward the door.

"If you fall behind, I will not be coming back to find you."  She announced over her shoulder on the way. Her studio was large and had a few floors to it. She would be heading down to the basement where she kept all paintings not currently being used in storage.

"Jiro Fujita is into a lot of things, and not many of them are legal outside of Japan."

"Huh... Nose and ear stuff, too, then? The land of the rising sun is a scary place. Like... @#$^-freak disneyland. Gotta go some time." His interest was piqued, considering they both knew what he was about to request anyway.

"You, and a good percentage of the female population. But, considering trends are steadily heading in the opposite direction I don't think you have much to worry about. Pretty soon we'll all be walking around in fig leaves."

He grinned and looked her up and down real quick, lingering in certain areas. "#$^&, you start wearing fig leaves I may come by more often."

She rejected his request, but he kept it up. She always caved. The last two times were, in fact, the last time as well. He liked to think it was because she liked him, but honestly she probably just had a streak of pride for her work that appreciated the eyes of an experienced appreciator of certain types of art.

As she turned and walked away, he definitely took the opportunity to stare at those god-graced hips.

Art, to him, had more to do with people, and he'd be damned if he didn't have quite the collection in his head. Still, he wouldn't mind admiring the snarky little artist at least once before he hitched a ride out of this #$$^hole of a city.

He clapped his hands together once and grinned, hopping off the desk, grabbing the tray from the snack table and moseying after her, snacking on the way down.

He kept up like a good little boy, and she swiped a keycard through a secure terminal when she reached the elevator that would take them to the bottom floor. It was a short ride, and she didn't bother trying to fill the silence with talk. He was busy eating and she honestly couldn't be bothered. She was known for being rather cold in her practices.

Once they reached the bottom floor and the doors slid open, she took the lead and led him to the right. The basement was sectioned off into a few different areas so she could keep things organized, and she had purchased specialized filing systems in order to keep all of her paintings as orderly as possibly. After a brief walk, she stopped before a large cabinet with Jiro's name on it.

A small key on a chain around her neck opened a lock on the door, which opened to a stockpile of thirty or more canvases stashed within. Turning, she motioned impatiently with her fingers for him to step back before she started pulling a few of the paintings from their protective spaces.

Right off the bat, it was apparent that Jiro had only requested portraits of various women. They all had a similar body structure, though skin tones and other unique features varied quite a bit depending on the piece. Many, as he had mentioned, also involved a slew of animals, objects, settings, and other ideas she chose not to linger on.

She also made no mentioned that quite a few of the women were blonde and blue eyed.

"He was pretty heavily into rope bondage at one point, presumably before he got tired of it." There were at least five paintings with that specific theme.

She laid each piece she drew out at a slight angle against the side walls and other cabinets before she got to the most recent piece of artwork he had requested from her... only a month and a half prior. She was particularly proud of the last one and it was evident in her expression when she drew it out and moved to hang it on a small hook on the wall.

"This particular one was his last request." She stepped back slightly and let her hands rest casually on her hips. All of her paintings were startlingly realistic since that was her favorite style. The only variation she was willing to mess with was the use of color, which could turn a realistic painting into something else entirely.

The last painting was a prime example of that. Unlike the other paintings which had included some props, the last one looked as if the background were made of soft black velvet. On top of that background were various nude, female figures scattered across the canvas in various writhing poses of pleasure. Every figure was a different shade, a different angle, different personal characteristics... but they all shared a similar shape. Big busted and large hips.

The artist slid a sly, calculating look at the agent as she crossed her arms under her bosom again. "Well? Which would you like to investigate?"

If he were ever given clearance to enter fort Knox, he figured it might be a bit like this... Emptier, but similar otherwise.

One elevator ride, and some locked doors later, they were in wonderland. I mean, it looked like a tax filing room with particularly big cabinets, but D9 knew exactly what was in them. Treasure. Hot, scantily clad, naked, or kinkily dressed treasure drawn the by blonde bombshell walking in front of him. He was already smiling at the thought of what he was in for... Jesus, this woman was a national treasure, she truly was.

She stopped at the suspect's gallery file and opened it with her master key. He rubbed his hands together as she displayed the work. Yup... He was into some weird #$$&, wasn't he? He figured that mostly based on the props he saw littered about in most of the paintings.

And then she pulled out the las piece... When she asked which one, he couldn't help but laugh. "First, you keep crossing your arms under your t%$s like that ima hafta ask what you charge for you, and second...You gotta ask? I mean, you really outdid yourself this time... I'd say this is your best work yet... I, uh... really feel like this one right here is gonna... Get me in his mindset. You know? It's a great... Research piece." He grinned a bit, readying himself to do some hardcore investigation.

"First, you keep crossing your arms under your t%$s like that ima hafta ask what you charge for you, and second...You gotta ask? I mean, you really outdid yourself this time... I'd say this is your best work yet... I, uh... really feel like this one right here is gonna... Get me in his mindset. You know? It's a great... Research piece."

The artists smirked slightly, arms still crossed across her ribs. "First, I hardly think it takes much to get you in a similar mindset." She took a step closer to him, turning to admire her own work. Personally, she had a lot invested in the piece. Most of her female pieces, actually. She enjoyed it in her own way and often incorporated some of her own ideas into her art.

"Second, eighty grand... and yes, it's worth it." 

She didn't even bother to look at him as she lifted a hand and let her fingers hover over the painting. "... And third, I hope you aren't too attached to that outfit." 

She reached out with her other hand and touched him, making contact with the painting at the same time. In a blink, they were transported within her painting space. Shelly landed steady and easily on her feet, even in six-inch heels. She'd had a lot of practice, after all. 

The ground underneath their feet was soft and cushy with a velvety finish. All around them on the floor of the large room laid the women from the painting. Shelby wisely stepped back slightly, behind and out of the way as all eyes in the room turned to them in unison. She let a hand hover by the exit from the painting casually as all of the female figures started to get up and head toward them.

"Remember, as soon as I leave you have fifteen minutes. I will not be coming back in to extend the time, as I'm rather fond of this top."

The women were closer now... They were surrounded on all sides. Shelly smiled slightly with a twinge of something almost vaguely like pity, before she connected her fingers to the exit and popped out of the painting.

Pretty much as soon as she was gone the women converged on D9 like a horde of lustful zombies, reaching out to grip at him and his clothing in an effort to tear it from him as quickly as possible.

On the outside of the painting, the Artist paused a moment to admire the new figure within her painting, a small representation of Cole just before he was inevitably mobbed. A small, wicked smile was settled on her features. She had neglected to mention to the agent that Mr. Fujita had visited that painting once, and only once, before swearing off of it entirely. It had been too much for the poor man to handle.

She wished him the best of luck as she set about collecting the other paintings and putting them back into storage. By the time Mr. Cole's fifteen minutes was up she would be found across the room from the painting, settled into a small comfy chair as she plucked her way through her book for the month.

The bespectacled fashionista answered his statements in kind, and he failed to break eye contact with the painting as she did.

"First, I hardly think it takes much to get you in a similar mindset."

He tilted his head to either side, conceding to the thought; she wasn't wrong.

"Okay, that's fair."

"Second, eighty grand... and yes, it's worth it."

"Huh... I could afford it. Whether or not I'm sold... That's another question."
He stared still, tracing the lines of every image. She had a real talent, and the guy he was casing had a real image of beauty in his head. D9's own image was a little more diverse, and flexible, but he was on board here.

When she added on her own advancement to their numbers based conversation, he broke his stare fest at the picture, turning to look at her a bit confused.

And then they disappeared from the room. He barely had time to realize exactly what was going on by the time she ditched him.


***Fifteen Minutes Later***

He emerged from the painting soundlessly, standing bare before her.

Indeed, he wore only a wide smile.

"I have... Ascended." He held his hands out at his side, joking coyly before winking and bowing a bit.

She had underestimated him. Gripped firmly in either hand were undamaged items of clothing. He'd only lost the underwear, it seemed... Or did he ever wear any?

It was a mystery.

"Heh... Shame you can only keep me in there fifteen minutes. I could spend my retirement in there... Gotta say, though, the guy's not very flexible body shape wise... I think that really says a lot about him, don't you?" He spoke comfortably, still in his birthday suit... Why should he care if she saw him? She was a grown woman, She'd definitely seen much worse.

"So... Got any ideas where I can find this guy soon? Kinda on a deadline here, and I don't figure he's skipped town. I don't figure he's the type."

He popped back into the proper dimension right on time. Shelly casually glanced at him while lowering her book slightly. He was naked, obviously, but she had seen that before. She admired him for a moment before focusing on the clothes he had clutched in his hands. Well, she hadn't been expecting that that was for sure. She'd expected them to get shredded beyond repair.

Was that disappointment on her face? Probably. Sometimes it was hard to tell given her personality. "Congratulations." She monotoned while dog-earring her page and setting it on top of her crossed legs.

Gotta say, though, the guy's not very flexible body shape wise... I think that really says a lot about him, don't you?"

"I think it says a lot about a lot of people. He is hardly the first person to get stuck in a rut when it comes to what beauty means." Was she staring? Yes. Her interest in men was minimal, but when presented with certain specimens she entertained a smaller part of herself still interested in males.

Cole, for all of his other wonderful qualities, happened to have a very well structured body. She could do without the tattoos, honestly, but that was a smaller detail. With a sigh, she pushed herself from her chair gracefully.

"Perhaps someday I will show you my personal collection. I think your opinion would be valuable in regards to my own specific tastes." Her book went back into the chair, to be picked up the next time a client needed her to help them with a painting.

She fixed her gaze back on the disrobed agent as she pondered his last question. Did she know where Jiro could be found? Yes. Very easily, in fact. Did she necessarily want to share that information? That... was to be decided.

The artist squinted at him for a moment, one hand propped up on a hip as she weighed her options. It took her one brief beat to work through all of the pros and cons before she made a decision.

"You would be correct." She finally responded as she set about putting the last painting back into the cabinet. "He thinks he's a big @#$% given where he comes from." After locking the cabinet up she dropped the key back under her shirt, into the relative safety of her cleavage.

Shelly had needed to set very strict rules with Jiro, considering that he had been very forthcoming with his advances toward her. She'd needed to up her security specifically for his visits, and toward the end of her working with him had refused to remain in paintings with him during his visits. She'd put up with it because he'd paid her a ridiculous amount of money which more than made up for his garbage bin of a personality.

"A streak of pride, some would call it. Personally, I think he's just a moron who was born with a useful mutation." She headed past him toward the elevator, "There is a soiree being held tonight at Camille La faille's winter home. It's a private gathering, so the police more than likely wouldn't know about it."

She stepped inside the elevator when the doors opened, waiting for him before hitting the button to take them back to the main floor.

"I am one of those attending tonight, and I know for a fact that Mr. Fujita will be attending as well." She glanced at the agent with a slight turn of her chin. "I could be convinced that adding a plus one in order to bring along a bodyguard might be in order. Jiro and I have a..." She fished for the right word for a moment, distaste clear on her features. "...strained professional past."

They reached the main floor a moment later, and when the doors opened Jeremy was standing on the other side waiting patiently for them with the manila folder in his arms.

"I employ a variety of help when it comes to maintaining control within my studio, so I doubt you, or your questionable mannerisms would arouse any outright suspicion from the rest of the guests."

She fixed Jeremy with a stare, unspoken words being shared between them. Her assistant was worth his weight in gold, although it wouldn't appear that way from the outside. He was small and lanky in physique, hardly imposing at all. And yet he had a very special ability to form connections with people and share thoughts. He was also remarkably good at taking notes.

The young man nodded, sparing Cole with a glance (and was that a blush?) before he handed her the folder and scurried off.

The soldier shrugged when she replied about his comment on body shape, and then worked in a wink when he noticed her admiring his physique. That's what he worked so hard on it for, so he definitely wasn't shy when it came to showing it. She'd finished her oogling, and opted to stand.

"Perhaps someday I will show you my personal collection. I think your opinion would be valuable in regards to my own specific tastes."

He perked up at that. "You don't say? What does a woman like you keep in her own secret stash?"

She locked everything up again, and got to talking and walking. He nodded as she confirmed his observations. He knew a thing or two about people with big egos, being one.

There was something going on tonight? Damn... If he could take care of this guy tonight he would get a goddam medal. He got dressed in the elevator.

"Alright... sounds like a date. When do I pick you up?" He smirked a bit, The doors opened while he was putting his shirt on. He froze for a second when he saw the scrawny assistant already waiting for them.

Was he blushing? D-9 smirked and sent a wink his way as well. Why not? It'd prolly make the kid's day, and he wasn't totally opposed to sleeping with men. Honestly, he would try anything once. Hence why Shelly was a good person to keep nearby.

She angled a coy smile at him, "That is a well kept secret. Can't go telling you now, since I could change my mind later."

Jeremy headed off and she turned to look at Cole as he finished dressing himself. "Pick me up?" The artist scoffed as she stepped out of the elevator. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Mr. Cole. You are my date for the evening, so I will be picking you up at five forty-five sharp."

She turned slightly to give him a skeptical once over, just as Jeremy rejoined them with a printed list in his hand. Shelly took it from him, glanced over it, and then handed it to Cole.

"This is the dress code as well as a few other rules posted by those hosting the event. I trust you won't have an issue with most of them?"

There were certainly some rules on there that might try his patience, but most seemed like common sense stuff. No weapons. Nothing illegal. Some behavioral standards.

"You can send me a pick up location to my email, or give it to Jeremy. Whichever you like." She handed him the folder he'd asked for at the beginning of their meeting.