As soon as the valet spotted Leyla getting out of the car, he skittered to her side. "Ms. Sevgici, how are you today?" He was clearly terrified of her. She allowed him to help her out of the car, then slapped his hand away without looking at him. "Park nearby, we not stay long. You steal anything, I order your balls from room service."

The man laughed nervously and looked up at Jirou. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'll take good care of it." He held his hand out for the keys. Leyla had already strode inside, not looking to see if Jirou had followed. She as on her turf, and if she had been queenly in that grubby basement, she was a goddess now. She pawned the borrowed coat off on a bellhop in the lobby. "Keep it. I send laundry down soon, yes? Skirt and pant needs dry cleaned."

She stepped up to the elevator and punched the button, only then looking back to see where her companion was.

Jirou pulled up to the main entrance to the Tribeca Grand Hotel, where a valet stood by to assist them. As Jirou stepped out of the vintage muscle car he hesitantly handed the keys to the valet. He always hated leaving his car with somebody else, especially valet drivers.

"She's got a short shift. Don't grind the gears." he quickly made his way to follow Leyla through the doors before calling out to the valet one last time. "If there is one scratch on that car, you'll have more to worry about than you balls." Jirou had spent a small fortune on getting that car restored. He wasn't about to let anything happen to her.

He stepped into the elevator beside Leyla, just as the door was beginning to close. He looked down at his pant's let again. The cold air from the walk to the car had frozen the blood spatter solid. He hoped none of it had gotten on the leather interior.

He wondered what sort of clothes she had for him to wear, and also why she would have men's clothes at her place.

Her penthouse was a lavish ordeal with a rigid yet tasteful design. It was clean and there were no photographs or really any sort of personal touches aside from an intricate knife rack on the dining room wall. A few were missing, one of them in her purse. All of the furniture had been rearranged defensively, all seating facing the door and clear paths to the front door and to the stairway, which led to the rooftop. There was no TV, but she had a laptop computer folded away on a desk in the living room and two shelves of books in Russian, Turkish, Arabic, and a couple in English.

"Do not sit," she told him, glancing at his stained pant leg. "I get you new clothes." Over time, she had accumulated a small collection of clothing from gentlemen that passed through her bedroom. There had certainly been a few around Jirou's size. She pushed open double doors to the bedroom, leaving them open as she headed for the dresser. She fished through for a moment. She produced a pair of gray dress slacks that would fit him fairly well. "You need shirt, too, or just pants?" she called.

Jirou stood on the tiled entry way, doing as he was told to not sit on anything. It was a nice penthouse. Not exactly inline with his tastes, but it was still fashionable. He looked down at his stained pants leg, and then at his shirt. He'd chosen to dress rather plainly that evening, and judging by Leyla's taste in fashion, he doubted she would have anything that would match his current apparel.

"Might as well set me up with a shirt and vest as well. I'm doubting you have any jeans in this place."

His eyes danced around the apartment. It didn't look very lived in, but when you were paying top dollar for a penthouse suite he figured that was part of the appeal.

The bedroom was one of the few rooms that showed any sign of life. There were a few pieces of clothing draped over a chair and the bedding was slightly rumpled. She didn't like having the cleaning staff in when she wasn't there, in case they stole or found something incriminating. On a small table near the bedroom door, a single coffee cup and saucer sat beside a book. Her life outside of work was solitary by necessity, and for the few times a day she allowed herself to have free time, there were only so many ways to pass the time.

Leyla emerged from the bedroom with a white dress shirt and vest along with the pants. "These should fit, I think. Bathroom down hall if you are shy." She passed the clothes to him, then went back into her room, kicking her shoes off as she went.

Pushing open her closet, she revealed an almost absurdly large wardrobe. It was one way in which she tried to satisfy herself, though it hardly worked for long. She pulled down a pair of black lace-up boots, no heel, a pair of black slacks, and then went about selecting a shirt. Something she didn't mind getting a bit messy, she thought, but still something that would make her look good. Not giving the open door a second thought, she pulled her shirt off over her head and deposited it into a laundry bag hanging inside the closet. She pulled down a deep green sweater and looked it over thoughtfully.

Jirou graciously accepted the change of clothes and made his way to the bathroom, figuring it would be better for his health if he change someplace where he couldn't inadvertently witness Leyla changing. He'd seen what happened to people who offended her. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he saw more than she was willing to allow him too.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and quickly set about changing into the new set of clothes. He first tried on the pants, which fit quite nicely. They were a bit larger in the waist, but his belt would remedy that. The white shirt and black vest fit his athletic frame perfectly. At least she had an interest in men of with his build. He took a moment to look himself over in the bathroom mirror. He had to admit, he looked good in a shirt and vest. The addition of his ever present black fedora further improved the image. He looked like the professional poker players from back in the western saloon days. He'd have to invest in a new wardrobe.

With his new look completed, he carefully folded the bloodied pants up with the red stained fabric facing inward to prevent it from getting on anything. The last thing he wanted was to leave a mess in this lady's place.

Jirou opened the door to the bathroom and stood back in the entryway. From there, he heard the Russian's pager buzz frantically in his jacket pocket. He retrieved the pager and examined the previous call. Reaching into his jacket, he fished around and removed his cell phone and dialed the number. On the other side, he heard an eager and frantic voice speaking in an inquisitive tone. He spoke in Russian, but Jirou could tell the other man was only inquiring as to the outcome of the two henchman's mission.

"Dah." Jirou answered, trying his best to mimic the Russian's thick accent. He heard a boisterous laugh of approval on the other end of the line, before he began to speak again and soon rattled off an address, which Jirou committed to memory. Hopefully they would find the moron that had tried to have them killed there. Jirou ended the call and pocketed his cell phone, while the pager he tossed into a garbage can.

The night was just getting started it seemed.

At the sound of the bathroom door, she smirked, not even considering that he was afraid of seeing her, and not vise-versa. Prude Americans. She shook her head.

Once she was finished dressing, she made her way back to the bedroom door, pausing when she heard him on the phone. Leyla waited until he was finished before emerging completely, dressed in no-nonsense attire: fitted dress pants, heavy boots, a low-cut green sweater, and her hair was swept up out of the way with an oversize clip.

"New information?" she supposed, eyes gliding over him immodestly. It was certainly an improvement. He almost looked respectable when dressed like an adult. Leyla stepped up to him without hesitation and adjusted his vest, making sure his collar was straight. "Fits you well, better even from former owner, I think."

Jirou was impressed with her. Even in a sweatshirt and dress pants, she could probably walk into a crowded room and turn every head without lifting a single finger. He wasn't ashamed to admit he'd probably be one of the first to look, provided there weren't any sharp objects in the immediate vicinity.

"Thanks for the clothes, by the way. I normally don't wear fancy threads like these, though I have a feeling the seventeen grand I won tonight isn't going to last very long."

He smiled as she looked him over. He wasn't ashamed of his appearance, nor was she concerned about him noticing her wandering eye. Though given the fact that this woman was the pure embodiment of a black widow spider, he made a mental note not to let himself not get too involved with her. After tonight he'd have to take careful steps sever his ties to her. He had a feeling the previous owners of these clothes wouldn't be needing them anytime soon.

"Just got off the phone with our friend. I'm guessing he wants to personally thank those two for taking care of us and to collect his money. Should we give him a surprise visit?"

>>"Thanks for the clothes, by the way. I normally don't wear fancy threads like these, though I have a feeling the seventeen grand I won tonight isn't going to last very long."

"You should invest better clothes. Maybe you will not look as child." She patted his cheek condescendingly and stepped back.

>>"Just got off the phone with our friend. I'm guessing he wants to personally thank those two for taking care of us and to collect his money. Should we give him a surprise visit?"

Leyla pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "Perhaps. We should stake out first, I think, find best way in. I can subdue small group."

She walked over to her knife rack and tucked one into the side of her boot, and a small flip knife into her bra, a last resort weapon. "You need borrow something?" she asked.

Jirou couldn't help but smile when she asked him if he needed to borrow anything else. "My talents extend to more than just playing cards. Pens, rocks, you name it. I can detonate it."

He threw his jacket on over his new clothes and pulled out a couple decks of cards. "Besides, I like to stay stocked up." he motioned towards the door and made his way towards the elevator.

"I suppose we could stake the place out, though we shouldnt keep our friend waiting too long. He'll be expecting his money."

After locking up her apartment, the well-armed Leyla followed him into the elevator and punched the button for the first floor. She shrugged at his suggestion. "Stake out not take long. Just drug some security, make entrance."

She glanced over at the cards in his hands, expression unchanging, but unable to stop the feelings of jealousy. A power that could actually punish people- she would trade her power for it in an instant. "Is good power," she told him. "Very practical. You have strong skill." She didn't dole out compliments idly. She truly did respect his skill and the mercilessness with which he had thrown his cards.

The doors dinged open and she stepped out into the lobby. She snapped her fingers at a nearby bellboy. "Have Laurent get car now."

First she compliments him during the poker game, then she compliments his appearance, and now a compliment on his mutant ability? He had a feeling such a thing was a rarity with this woman, judging by the way he had seen her treat everybody else they had come across. He wisely chose to accept the compliment with a bit of humility and respect.

"I appreciate the compliment. It's not often I'm complimented on it." He mentally reminded himself to be careful with this one. He still didn't have a good grasp of what her ability was yet, though he was sure whatever it was he was certain she would be able to use it about as lethally as a knife.

He walked out into the lobby and smiled at the site of his car. She was still in one piece. As Laurent exited the car, Jirou immediately snatched the keys from him and hopped into the drivers seat and restarted the 73 Omega, waiting for Leyla to get in. It was time to get back to business.

The valet opened the passenger door for her and she slid into the passenger seat. "What is address?" she asked. "Maybe I know place. I find Russian mob too often."

She opened her purse and pulled out a cigarette case. She cracked the window and placed a cigarette between her lips.

It wasn't unusual for her to fall into company with strange accomplices. She never kept the same company for long, so it was an inevitable for her. But it was nice to be with someone who wasn't completely useless in her book. That he was a mutant was certainly a bonus.

"You might know the place. It's just on the other side of the Holland, over in Jersey..." he said the last part as if he had just tasted something foul and sour. If there was one thing this full blooded New Yorker couldn't stand, it was freaking Jersey. He pulled out of the Tribeca's main entrance and headed towards the Holland Tunnel, taking Church St to 78.

"The place we're heading to is located at the waterfront more specifically. This time of night it's fairly quiet, but that doesn't mean we should simply kick the door down, obviously." he couldn't believe how this was all going down in his own backyard.

They passed through the tunnel and made their way along the edge of the Hudson before Jirou pulled off onto a well lit side street near the supposed "Historic" area of Jersey City. God how he hated Jersey.

He got out of the 73 classic and locked the door before opening the passenger's door for Leyla. "The place is just a few blocks away, right on the edge of the Hudson. It's a middle upper class community, so we should fit in pretty well. Just stay close and let's say hello."

He offered his elbow for her to clasp. "It'll help if we try and blend in with the couples that might be walking around."