Shelby didn't know the first thing about swords. Her lane was art, with a sprinkle of history and a healthy slathering of space facts. But... when someone contacted you and offered an exorbant about of money for you to get your hands on a currently owned item, which was apparently rare and expensive, and they dumbed just a butt load of zero's on the end of the offered reward? 

She was suddenly very interested in swords. 

A basic description was given of the man she needed to find, with more detailed information about the item she was to procure. 

She picked out a costume and a wig and settled in for a few days of scouring the web for information on her target. As it were a lot of people online had seen him, or someone matching his description quite well. There were a host of Karen's complaining about how he was a vulgar womanizer who loitered in parks to prey on unsuspecting females- Some kind of big bad wolf characterization...

Also a smattering of people posting about the 'cool guy' who liked to sit and write poems. Apparently he was kind of intimidating, so not many of the MyFace users wanted to get close to him. There were a few blurry pictures posted alongside all of the words. Obviously taken from a distance.... and some through what looked like leaves of bushes. 

Geez... how intimidating could one guy be? 

She was able to compile all of that information together to come up with a pattern of sorts based on the days people had posted about him, and a place based on the things she could see in the pictures. 

Shelby visited the park he apparently liked to frequent, found the tree he apparently liked to sit under, and broke out her paints. A little two inch by two inch picture was quickly and delicately painted onto the bark of the tree, with the intention of a quick escape behind it.

"... There." She muttered to herself, under the cover of darkness. "Now only thirty more to go!"

The artist spent a night going around painting identical small circles on trees, bushes, and benches in a direct path out of the park. It stretched all the way to the street. Once done, she returned to her apartment and crashed in a pile on her couch, almost instantly out. 

Only time would tell if all of her sleuthing would end up putting that sword in her hands... and she would have to wait until the date she'd circled in red on her calendar.

He'd been working on a new spell. It had mostly evaded him thus far, but the concept was there. He that this image... One of freedom. Flashes of lightning. Raijin's mind wasn't the typical magical archetype. He did not think about what he wanted to do, and then find a way to implement it via magic means. No, he got feeling. He felt... inspiration, and worked at it like he did his calligraphy.

Magic, to Raijin, was art. He did not research. He waited for inspiration, and simply made it so. Now, he felt himself, sitting at the precipice of that flash of inspiration, but like so many other times, it sat just out of reach.

He was against his familiar tree in the park, a spot where inspiration often hit, like and apple falling from a tree. It was a slightly nicer day, so he'd set aside the writings he usualy took part in, and took to instead staring up at the sky, sipping sake, even though it was illegal to drink in public.

If anyone mentioned that, the look he would give them would be eonugh to make them walk away anyway. It was a nice day... if only the clouds were a little darker. He felt like that might bring the inspiration he needed.

Just a little flash of lightning.

The stage was set. The pawn was in place, and she was ready. She felt more than thoroughly prepared this time, which was a good feeling and also a first. Most of her previous jobs left her feeling like she was still struggling to keep her head above water. Especially whenever OIAM inevitably showed up.

"Oooh, is that Sake?" She was peering around the trunk of the tree at him, already in costume and with her mask affixed to her face. She was starting to wonder when people were going to start recognizing her, if at all. "Isn't it illegal to drink out in the open?"

She had on a bubblegum pink wig, which was longer and curlier than her natural hair. Green contacts in, with big lashes and winged liner behind her domino mask. Her costume looked ridiculous to outside eyes but suited her needs just fine. Little gloves to keep her prints off of stuff, and to hide the variety of rings she had on her fingers. The cat-eared headband could have been cuter, but meh... win some, lose some.

"Wassat?" She spied what the man was working on. Scrolls? Ink brush? Calligraphy? In a park?? That was... kinda neat, actually. A little antiquated, but neat.

She couldn't read a lick of it though. Japanese if she was going to guess, from some of the shapes and line work.

"Mind if I look?" She came out from behind the tree fully and squatted down in front of him with her arms wrapped around her knees.

Words. He heard words. It took Raijin just a moment to shake himself from a daydream of flitting about the clouds, dicing them to pieces, when a sweet little voice asked him something. He looked over to see... A woman. In costume. He was leaning back and to the side staring at her for a long moment before reaching down, and grabbing the Sake to hold it out in offering.

"Is... it my birthday?" She looked like a strippergram. His eyebrows remained slightly lifted as he watched her.

She asked about his laid out, but mostly ignored writing material. "It is my work. Who are you?" He wasn't blinded by her overall adorable appearance and behavior. This was strange. People in wigs and wearing masks didn't just wander up and ask about things every day.

Maybe it was his birthday.

"You may." She squatted down in front of his work, and he staaaaaared at her butt. "Do you understand it? I could explain." one hand did end up resting on the X made by his hilts as he sat there. For all he knew, she was an assassin, sent to kill him by a rival gang.

Hot, though.

She was moderately surprised when the man offered his drink to her and asked her a question. "I dunno... is it? If it is I'll have to wish you a Happy Birthday, then." She accepted the drink nonetheless, and once sat she took a sip. Ooo! Good quality stuff! "Yum! It's sweet. Thanks!"

Shelby handed it back and got to dissecting his work with her eyeballs. The lines were clean. Not shaky, or uncertain. Smooth rounded edges when needed, sharp points when not. He was obviously well-practiced. Also, who was she? "Voleur d'art!" She wasn't well versed in other languages, like... at all but ever since she had chosen that name in a panic she'd made sure she could at least say it right. The french rolled off her tongue with practiced ease and she offered a cheeky smile in greeting. "Nice meet you!"

It didn't escape her that he'd rested one hand on his swords, but she forced herself not to stare. She already knew which one was the target based on blurry pictures that had been sent along with the work order.

"I don't understand a lick of it... buuuut I can tell you've put a lot of work into the practice. Could I see you write a few lines?" She mimicked a brush on paper with her fingers, "An explanation would be wonderful, too! I love art~"

He watched her carefully as she took him up on his offer. A drink from a stranger. She was confident. "How will you do that?" He asked. She must have something in mind, or she would have simply said, 'happy birthday' instead, she said she would have to.

He recieved his drink back, nodding once at her comment. She drank some, then, or she wouldn't have called the sake sweet, as most new drinkers didn't see any hard alcohol as anything other than stinging.

She replied with her name. He stared silently. French. It was french. But she sounded american. It was a fake name. "I am unsure if it is nice to meet you. You are beautiful, and strange, and I don't know your intentions."

She asked for a demonstration of his art, and he nodded after a tense moment, reaching forward to a piece of parchment, and pulling it closer, before wetting his brush with ink, and drawing out a single piece of Kanji with his free hand. An interesting character stood on the page.

He set the brush aside, and grabbed it, holding it out toward the odd, sexy costumed lady.

She grinned and the little fake whiskers painted on her cheeks with eyeliner flexed upwards. "How will I find out if it's your birthday or not? Hm. That sounds like more of a thing you'd have to explain. It's not like I'm psychic."

"My intentions? I wanted to see what you were drawing, of course! Art tends to attract other artists." She watched him as he got to draw, attention focused on where the ink met the paper. The scroll thing was still a kicker, but she liked it. You didn't see students rocking around with scrolls on campuses these days. Had it's own flare.

"Also I'm an art thief." She paused as he held his work up and out, and then added, "Not for any of this, though! It's nice, but I've got bigger fish to fry sooooon..." She pretended to check the little watch on her wrist, "-Ish... and you're in my hidey spot."

And then, she carried on like normal and blinked at him. "So what's it mean?"

"No. What will you do now that you know it's my birthday." It was a strange line of questioning, but he felt the need to clarify her misunderstanding.

He raised an eyebrow at her statement of his intentions. "I wasn't drawing anything when you walked up. I was looking at the clouds for inspiration." He stated it plainly, not reacting in any way from his sitting position, just stating it.

She then stated she was an art thief, which raised an eyebrow. "Ohhh, yeah? An artist who is an art thief?" looked down to his look neck of the woods, and back to her. "This is where you planned to hide... to steal art."

In the middle of central park. "It is representative of... you. Mysterious. You can have it, if you would like. No need to steal. We can trade. Your number?" What? It was worth a shot. There was obviously a lot to unpack, here, and he had a feeling she had a sense of adventure.

"Oh... so it is your birthday, then? Why didn't you say so sooner!" Now she could give him a 'Happy Birthday!' and mean it. "Happy Birthday! Though, unfortunately, looks like I don't have any gifts on me." She made a little show of pointing out her woeful lack of pockets. The costume she had on simply didn't leave any room for them.

"You weren't? What's all this, then? I figured it was the practice or something." She wasn't playing part, either. She'd literally thought he was doing some fancy stuff when she'd snuck up being him. "So you didn't do these, then?" She pointed a gloved finger at some of the scrolls, very careful not to actually touch. She might moonlight as a thief, but she still had hefty respect for how delicate art could be in all forms.

The word he'd drawn apparently meant 'Mysterious' or something like that. She took it when offered and was honest to goodness thrilled with it. Oh, this was so going on her wall at home!

"I can honestly say that's the first time I've gotten 'Mysterious'... usually it's 'Peculiar' or 'Enigmatic'." She folded it carefully, and since she didn't have any pockets she tucked the paper into one of the cups of her bra. Which, considering he was asking for her number, she didn't feel the need to be bashful about.

"I suppose that'd be a fair trade, and I do still owe you a present, too." She hemmed and hawed a little, pretending to ponder over what to do when she very much already had a plan. A hastily thrown-together plan, but a plan all the same.

.... eehhhhhh, what not?

She pulled a little marker out from the other boob cup, uncapped it with her teeth, and reached for one of his hands. Yes, she was going to try and write the phone number for her most recent burner on his hand. Who cared if he had paper?

"Any ideas for what you'd want as a gift~?"

He didn't reply to her fussing over his birthday. He couldn't say he knew what day it was exactly, so it may be his birthday, after all. He didn't particularly care, either.

He looked down as referred to his studies. "Mmmm. They are studies. Ancient texts passed down through generations. One would not be wrong to say they are a form of art." He leaned back against the tree once more and stated confidently. "I do not practice. Everything I create is what it is meant to be, given the inspiration at hand."

He looked over to her as she mused on the word he chose. "You are mysterious to me." He watched silently as she accepted his art, and produced her number. She wasn't shy. He enjoyed that. He liked shy as well, to be honest, but there was something to be appreciated about those who were candid.

She produced a marker, and reached for his hand. He looked down at the scraps of paper around, but shrugged. Letting her lift his hand, she would feel... roughness, though well nourished skin, with callouses in places directly related to his swordplay. His hands were very warm.

"I have some ideas." It was, again, stated plainly, but the implications were clear enough to most.

She didn't have fine handwriting. Her's was blocky and purposeful, maybe a bit hurried. She tended to focus on getting ideas out of her head as quickly as possible before she forgot them, versus making her notes pretty on the eyes.

"Not gonna lie, a philosophy like that has me a bit jealous... I can work on a painting for hours and still feel like it's not done." Her number was there, scrawled on his skin with a little zany doodle face under it. She capped her marker and tucked it away again, and then met his eyes.

"Oh? Wanna tell me what they are? I have some time still."

She was a bit closer now, and while he didn't seem as guarded as he had before, she didn't get the impression he'd dropped his guard all the way. She leaned in a little, not letting go of his hand just yet.

"Are they.... fun ideas?"

"Mm, I spend no more than a minute on any piece." He was working in a different medium than most, of course. "The time is spent before the brush hits the page. Inspiration is illusive... once found, it should be allowed to hit the page before it loses its luster, and thus... I sit." He motioned to his little carved out space.

He didn't look at her number when she placed it. He was confident it would reach her when he needed to. If he needed to. It looked like he might not need to, as she leaned in. She spoke suggestively.

He saw she was interested. He acted, pulling her down the rest of the way for a kiss. Words were not necessary, after all, when actions could speak much more clearly.

It started out with a kiss, it was only a kiss, how did it end up like this~?

He pulled her in. She went willingly. After all, a kiss was an easy gift in return for what he was about to give her. Lips met, she offered an energy-filled, passionate kiss back. Shelby pulled away a moment later as if to take a breath and for just a moment all of the stars aligned in perfect symmetry. His grip on her lifted for a moment, and her fingers curled lightly around the hilt of his largest sword.

Pop!

She vanished from his lap, and with her so did his blade. A little quarter machine ring fell into his lap, with a small painted image on the inside of the band.

pop! "Wow, this thing heavier than it looks, huh?" She was suddenly high up in the branches of the tree he was leaning against, with his sword in her hands. She didn't dilly around for long, drawing out a length of cord from somewhere, and set about trying the blade to her back. She didn't wanna lose it after all.

"Looks like my time is up! She mock saluted him from her vantage point with an impish grin. "What a shame, too! That was a pretty good kiss!"

He wasn't thinking about song lyrics. He was thinking about inspiration. He was thinking about the next thirty minutes, and how he would take this strange but mysterious woman to heights she'd never before experienced.

And then she was gone. His heart dropped as he immediately felt a weight he had on him at all times... missing. His hand went to his sword. His not sword. The Raikurai-Gatana was gone. He was on his feet in an instant. He heard her before he saw her.

His voice boomed out with such force it might have been formed by a seriese of roaring thunder. "WOMAN! LET GO OF MY SWORD." He threw himself up the branches of the tree, climbing like an enraged animal, fingers gripping into bark.

He was half way up the tree when she disappeared once more, and he was left staring up the tree, his teeth clenched in rage.

The ronin dropped to his feet, crouching before a strange object... that quarter machine ring. He eyed it for a second, finding something oddly familiar about it...

No sense thinking about it now. He looked to his hand. Her number.

A second later, her phone would buzz. The text composed of an ominous statement.

<You must have a death wish.>

Ohjeez! He could climb fast! She burned another ring popping out of there, and vanished long enough that he was able to text her.

Shelby cringed at it. Soooo dramatic!

She reappeared in a different tree fifty feet away from one of her pre-prepared tags. "Deathwish? No, not really! More like a wo- EEP!"

Pop!

She reappeared somewhere else, a ways away from him. "....Work order." She finished lamely.

"What's so important about this sword that you'd skewer someone who took it?" She was genuinely curious. She'd never met someone who so obviously wanted to murder her right in the face before.

"... Although now I know where the 'Intimidating' bit came from..."

She'd keep vanishing whenever close, sticking to the tags she's left around for the most part, but occasionally dropping a new ring here and there.