In Adam’s line of work as The Fox, he meant a vast array of distinct personalities: from sobbing stay at home witches whose husband had cheated on them with a friend –sometimes even male- who now had to die, to cold businessmen who simply made the rough choices and all the way to giggling psychopaths who made little sense but had pockets full of money. He thought he’d seen it all, until a meeting had been arranged and he’d arrived to find a terribly overweight young witch. She’d given him a simple task: the author of her favorite series had absolutely killed the entire saga with the latest book, and she therefore deserved to die. Adam had found it hard to laugh in the girl’s face at the request, until he asked her who this author might just be.

Dolly St. James.

The name ran so many bells it was possibly he’d get a headache. Dolly St. James, the girl he’d use to snog sporadically while at Hogwarts –she’d probably been using him, but considering he got a good pair of lips to bite into, he hadn’t been one to complain. Dolly St. James, who’d became famous with her book series The Slither Girls. They’d lost contact after school, but Adam could still recall she was a rather competent snog –and was still curious about how she was in the sack, for they’d never quite gotten that far. The Cursebreaker pulled in his amusement, gave the overweight woman a heavy nod and told her he’d take the case, but he always took his payment in advance. A lie, but she was foolish enough to believe him, and The Fox returned home with his pockets quite a bit heavier.

After that, it took but a day of research –some of it legal, some of it not- to find out where exactly Dolly lived whenever the bloody hell she was in London. His agenda thankfully allowed for a few more days in town –and here he’d never believed he’d be grateful for the chance to be in dreary old London for long- so that evening he made his preparations. A tall glass of wine helped calm him, for he was feeling as jittery as a teenage witch about to meet a bloody celebrity and shag him senseless –but, then again, it wasn’t every day you got to inform the author of your favorite books, who you’d also casually snogged, that there was a person out to have her killed. The entire prospect was entirely exciting. Dressing in his usual tight jeans, a wrock band tee and his faithful leather jacket, Adam apparated from his flat.

It didn’t take long to find her building, even with his leg dragging behind –in fact, the trip up the bloody elevator took much more time than the walk down damp cement. But then, there was a chime that muggles believed to be happy and exciting, but which Adam found to be simply annoying, and the doors were dragging open. There was only one door before him, which made sense considering Dolly lived in a penthouse. With a quick sigh, and running a fast hand through his hair, Adam place a mischievous grin on his face, grey eyes glinting playfully, as he stepped forwards and knocked on the door. As he waited, he tapped a foot against the floor, and fiddled with a loose string on his leather jacket, his right thigh throbbing just as much as ever. But then, the door was opening, and his eyebrows were narrowing slightly maliciously as he stared at her for the first time in years. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sour eyes?”

The trouble with being Dolly St. James was that you always had to look like Dolly St. James; which meant that even when you were staying home because you had a book you had to finish and you were actually making progress you had to dress like you might be trying to seduce your typewriter. She just never knew who would show up at her door. Dolly's main goal in life was to be two things: classy and fabulous. Of course classy sometimes fell by the wayside but even two bottles deep in the land of Vodka, she liked to think she was still pretty damn fabulous. Given all of this information it really didn't surprise her when there was a knock on the front door. People just stopped by, it was the way of her life and normally she didn't mind because it was usually a welcome distraction.

Tonight wasn't really so different, except that she was finally past a bit of her block and the words just seemed to leap onto the page. It was the only reason she even thought of not answering the door. Of course curiosity killed the cat (and satisfaction brought it back), so it was really only a momentary pause before she pushed away from her desk and moved toward the foyer. Even a life full of surprises could not prepare her for what greeted her on the other side. Adam. Though it had been a good many years (so many in fact she had made herself forget the exact number) he looked almost exactly the same. Older maybe, lines forming at the corner of his eyes and mouth but even they seemed familiar as her blue eyes took in the sight of him.

"Salazar's knickers," it was a soft not-quite-exclamation that passed slightly parted red lips. It wasn't often Dolly was left speechless, she was more a fan of leaving people that way. There he was though, in the flesh. To say they had been friends would have been a stretch. He was one of the first boys she had ever tried to use against Dominik. It wasn't her finest hour, she could admit to that but it had been fun. He was quite an excellent kisser if memory served her right. It wasn't as torrid or damaging as Landis had been, but then nothing in life was ever as complicated as her relationship with Landis. Her lips twitched with a small smile as she arched an eyebrow, "I'd ask how the devil you found me but if memory serves once you set your mind to something you knew how to get it".

Stepping back from the doorway, her posture was relaxed as she walked away, assuming he'd follow (or just enjoy the view, whichever). "Your timing is impeccable as always Darling, I just opened a fresh bottle of red," she glanced over her shoulder at him with a rueful grin. For some people it might have been strange, an old fling showing up at their door unannounced, after having not spoken for years upon years. Dolly didn't let things like time lapse throw her off. She was the kind of person used to just picking up where things had left off, like picking up a familiar book and knowing the words without really thinking no matter the page you landed on. "You hate the city, so I'm assuming this is more than a social call".

Dolly St. James was yet another woman that insisted on wearing heels –but, since they quite accentuate her already attractive figure, she was one of those few Adam would never complain about. Standing outside her door now, he looked slightly devilish, if also a tad lazy, as he leaned against her doorframe and folded his arms over his chest. His grey eyes haunted her face –pale skin, dark hair, amazing eyes, perfect red lips he found he’d actually missed. Dolly was not going to survive because he cared about her, but simply because he had yet many different things he wanted to try out with the woman. She was physically appealing, and the intrigue she’d made him suffer at what she might look like undressed would be her saving grace this evening –not that he’d inform her, of course. “I’d brag I’m the best –but you weren’t hard to find, dear,” He commented nonchalantly in reply to her words.

She stepped back and turned, walking back into the depths of her penthouse. For an instant, Adam stayed where he was, gaze trailing down her back to watch her hips sway as she walked. Then, with a sigh, he walked past the threshold, right leg dragging slightly, and closed the heavy door behind him. “So you do remember how best to tempt me?” He chuckled lightly, taking an instant to breath in his lavish surroundings. However, he didn’t allow himself to look impressed at what she’d managed to build for herself. Moving as quickly as he could, without looking overly excited or hurting his leg any more, he stepped towards her, leaving only an inch between them. He breathed down on her nape, lips crinkling at the feeling of teasing her.

“What? Just wanting to visit an old friend isn’t a good enough excuse?” Adam lifted both arms, placing his hands on her shoulders and enjoying the warmth of her skin against his palms, before turning her around. He found himself staring straight into her eyes as she shrugged as if nothing were a bother. “I guess you’re right. I’m here because some psychotic fan of yours paid me to kill you,” He spoke as if he were saying something entirely normal, as he let go of her shoulders and a wide smile spread across his face. “Now, what was it you were saying about a bottle of red?

Her laugh came in a bright burst, as he commented on temptation. If she'd been easy to find, well it was hard to feed a starving man - or some other analogy that failed her in that moment. She found herself rather glad she'd decided to open the door (though curious about what it was that he could really want). Her smile grew as he stood behind her, breath warm on her neck as she cocked a quizzical eyebrow. It wasn't that Dolly ever doubted her appeal to men; it was just rather flattering that whatever little spark had burned between them when she was sixteen still existed. It had been so simple back then; life in general but especially her romantic life.

The comforting thing about Adam was... he wasn't going to fall in love with her. She couldn't hurt him because, well, he was like her, damaged already by life. It wasn't like Eli or Tappy; good men who'd gotten mixed up with the wrong woman at the wrong time. Of course that train of thought was quickly derailed by his explanation for his visit. She stood, facing him now, his hands still on her shoulders, blue eyes blinking dumbly. Kill her? "Well that's new. I wonder how she'll feel when Odette doesn't marry Devlin in the last book," her voice actually sounded... amused by the whole thing. Well, she was amused but in a dark way. It seemed a bit ironic that a little more than a month shy of a year since she nearly died someone wanted her dead. She wondered, vaguely, if Adam even knew she'd been in the Calavera's Direwolf attack. It was rather poetic of him if he did.

There was a slight pang in her chest as his hands dropped from her shoulders, though she quickly turned back to the bar and poured herself a tumbler of firewhiskey, "I believe we've been upgraded to a hard liquor kind of night Darling. You are here to kill me after all," again that morbid amusement was in her voice as she handed him a stiff drink and poured another for herself. Toying with the pendent at her neck she narrowed her eyes a little as she turned back to look at him, "I do hope you're planning on taking me to dinner or something to honor my last meal. I mean if you're going to tell someone you're there to kill them you ought to have the decency to take a girl out first". She refrained from making the obvious joke about staying in, though she did step a little closer and tug lightly on the front of his jacket, "I don't suppose I could change your mind"?

She blinked at his words, as if not quite understanding and Adam let a teasing smirk cross his face as he shrugged. But it was there only for a second, before his jaw suddenly dropped and he gasped. “What do you mean they don’t get married?” He exclaimed, gapping at her like a fish out of water, shocked and slightly displeased. “You evil bitch,” he muttered, standing back with his arms crossed over his chest and staring at her like a stubborn child. Then again, he was aware he’d just informed her he was going to kill her –leaving out the rather important little part that he didn’t actually intend to do the job-, so perhaps he deserved it. Looking at the wealth around him, however, he realized there were plenty of reasons to murder the woman –but one stood out as the main factor of why she would remain alive for the foreseeable future.

“Want to go out while on a bender?” He found himself smirking, her amused tone of voice amusing him as well, while they went on about her possible death –which was simple proof of how strange they both were, and why shagging was a perfect option for the two of them. As she turned around and even stepped closer to him, taking hold of his leather jacket, Adam found his blood flowing quite productively. “Oh, you think you’re going to seduce me out of killing you?” He chuckled, as if it were the most hilarious thought in the world, as he gingerly unscrewed her fingers from his collar and pushed her back –taking her glass of firewhiskey with him as he turned on her and lazily walked towards the nearest couch. Sitting on its arm, he spread his legs open and then let them close together, knees knocking together as he lifted the glass to his lips and let the alcohol burn a path down his throat all in one sip.

“Amazing brew,” He complimented her, grey eyes still glinting, mischievous smile still present. “But even it wouldn’t keep me from killing your sorry bum,” Dragging his tongue across the inside of his lips, he considered the glass for an instant before holding it out towards her. “I’ll take another, though –and let you show how grateful you are that I’m actually here to inform you I rather kill the bloody idiot who hired me,” He shrugged, and looked at her with a large smile on his face. “I accept thank you’s in the form of snogs, caresses and other such debauchery.”

The whole thing was a little surreal. It made her head swim; but some how having lived through the last year made it almost impossible to become hysterical. Maybe it was some sort of post traumatic delusion - she didn't think she was immortal or invincible but dying was really the least of her worries. She actually snorted when he claimed not even seducing him would detour him from his mission, "Obviously you're not speaking from experience or you'd know what an utter load of shit that is". Dolly's sexuality had become a tool in her late teens. She knew she was good in bed, she knew it was a weapon. Stronger than her wand, stronger than her wit, she had brought men twice her age to their knees before she'd officially left Hogwarts. Once a Lolita, she had grown into a slithering fem fatal; and they both knew it.

"It will all make sense when you read the book. I promise," she gave a slight bow as she returned to his reaction over her ill fated lovers. She wasn't going to defend her choices before they were even in print. She wouldn't do it after either because her reasons for how the story were going happened to be deeply personal. True fans of the series would understand and see why it had to happen. Or they wouldn't, she couldn't be sure, but it didn't really matter because the one thing she truly owed fans was a good story and not all good stories had to have typical happy endings. It was a philosophy she was trying apply to her own life. It wasn't always easy, sometimes she still felt a little bitter about how everything had fallen to pieces but... now certainly wasn't the time to dwell on that.

Pouring him another drink, she stood just out of his reach with her hand on her hip, "Oh I don't know. We could fake my death, though we should wait till I finish the last one. Sales would sky rocket. I would be a legend. It's a brilliant bit of marketing, that". Her inability to take the situation serious was the only thing keeping her from having a full blown anxiety attack. Kicking off her heels she dropped into the arm chair across from him, tucking her legs as she made herself comfortable, dark hair pulled over one shoulder, "Who is it even? I mean I know I'm in gossip rags and the books sell well but deranged fans? Really? It all seems a bit ridiculous. She must be very troubled," there was a note of sadness to her voice, not quite pity but something akin to sympathy. She couldn't fathom having so little in life.

Adam had made a pleasant existence for himself, one where money was never an issue and his new flat –purchased and to his own name and ownership- was not lacking in some excess. But the arm of her couch was still rather more comfortable than any part of his own, and he found himself envying her slightly –and against considering the fact that here, around him, in front of his very eyes, was the simple reason he should consider murdering her. Yet she stood before him as well, just out of reach, with a hand on her hip after having poured him another glass of firewhiskey, and she was living proof of just way he wasn’t willing to slash her open. It was quite a dilemma, in all honestly. For now, though, he’d already been paid for the task and could now rather worry about other matters.

His first sip from the second glass was small, rather more a show of dropping his tongue into the liquid and letting the alcohol burn the muscle just slightly. “True, we could make people believe you drank yourself to death,” He looked thoughtful as he pondered it. In truth, either Dolly had to die, or he’d have to kill the fat lady. He’d taken money from her –quite happily, honestly-, so now somebody had to lose their life. Adam didn’t quite care which, but St. James had the odds in her favor. She was attractive, at the very least. The animagus watched as she settled down on the armchair opposite him, then pushed into a standing position himself and stalked behind her, arms taking to her shoulders and starting to rub.

“Some obese woman with too much of a stake with literature,” He shrugged, speaking nonchalantly –why his clients wanted someone killed had never quite been something that worried him, but in this case he was actually quite amused. By Merlin, the woman still didn’t even know how the saga ended! “You have a choice to make, though, love,” He stated simply, as he walked back around the armchair and settled down before it on his knees, stretching his neck so that he was looking her straight into the eyes. “Either I kill you,” He spoke as if it were quite natural, and they were simply discussing business –which, in a sense, they were. “Or I kill her, and I really don’t care which the one to go is.” With that, he lent forwards until their noses were brushing together and he could feel her breath on his lips and –dear Merlin, he wanted to snog the brains out of her.

Dolly's move to the chair had not just been for comfort's sake, tucked between the cushion was her wand. She had been quite the duelist in her day and though she didn't think Adam really wanted to hurt her (namely because is eyes had the same general gleam of a man before a steak he wanted to devour), she was not going to be caught unarmed if he decided he wasn't going to be so charitable. She leaned back into his hands and gave a small purr, and though she heard his words she had already made up her mind about what needed to happen.

"You can't kill her Adam, she's obviously ill. She needs help," Dolly was a soft heart. It often bit her in the ass - but it wasn't something she advertised to people. The public thought what it would think about her and that was okay. In the more recent weeks she had become comfortable with the fact that she often cared too much about the wrong people, that she was some how too forgiving while still holding nasty grudges. Though her instincts told her to fight it, she felt her muscles melting under his fingers, whatever tension he had caused slipping away.

When he came around to face her, her blue eyes were soft, "I'll double whatever she paid you. Just set up a meeting. If she wants me dead I'd like to know why. If it's because she thinks I don't care about my fans..." her voice trailed off as she shook her head. Her fans were the only reason she hadn't found a way out of her contact, that she hadn't just left the country when everything fell apart with Elliot and Dominik. She felt she owed them something, but she wasn't sure she could deliver it in a package they would like anymore. Leaning down she brushed his nose with hers, fingers resting against his jaw for a moment, "You'd never really hurt me, would you? I mean no more than running off and never speaking to me again hurt me".

Truth was, he had lied: if he had to make a choice between which of the two women to murder –client or target-, he would much rather break every bone in his client’s body with a spell he’d recently learnt of and was quite tempted to try out. It wasn’t at all an emotional connection or desire, but a response to a physical betrayal. If he’d managed to shag Dolly St. James before, everything would certainly have been rather easier. As it was, she’d only gone as far as snogging and a bit of touching, and the pent up frustration together with that small chance that he might still get to go a bit further with the writer had made everything that much harder. Had things gone differently while they’d been at Hogwarts, everything would have been different tonight: for starters, she would now be dead. Possibly with every bone in her body broken in order to experiment with the curse. He’d still be drinking her alcohol, most probably, but he’d be the one doing the serving while she lay in a heap on the ground. Not being easy had actually saved Dolly St. James, and Adam wondered if she knew it.

Still kneeling before her, still close enough to smell her –a feminine scent not at all close to the smell of fear he’d so came to enjoy, yet still an aroma that was utterly attractive-, the purr that began in her throat and left her lips sent his heart to beating quite quickly in its cavity. Her lips were close and he could remember what it had been like to snog her, yet something kept him from leaning forwards right now. Instead, he simply stared at her –and to say he was a bit shocked at the words that left her lips was an understatement. A frown overcoming him, and all thoughts of shagging leaving his mind momentarily, Adam settled back on his heels and placed one of his open palms against each of his legs, staring at her with an inquiring look in his eyes. “Her mental state is not honestly any issue of mine,” He snapped, his tone annoyed: had she simply not understood the veiled threat? If she had, she was putting a stranger before her –and it was an action he simply couldn’t get his mind around. In his opinion, one should always put themselves first, second and last. Nobody else mattered –yet, here was St. James, practically signing her death contract, and it was rather a bit of a let down.

Her nose brushed against his, and her hand came to rest on his jaw, but Adam was irked and he pushed away from her with a growl, pushing to his feet and turning to stalk away from her and to the liquor cabinet. His shoulders were tense as he glanced at the repertoire, before choosing a bottle of tequila that he quickly screwed the top off of and downed quite a bit, ignoring the way the alcohol burnt against his the muscle of his throat. “Hurt you?” His laughter was dry, mocking and cruel, as he placed the bottle back on the cabinet, not bothering to put the top back on as he turned to glare at her, fists opening and closing at his side. “I can’t say I want to –but I would,” It might scare her, it might make her want to never see him again –but he wasn’t about to lie and tell her she was the one person he’d keep safe, the one person exempt from his dangerous side. Because she wasn’t, nobody was, and everyone was entirely disposable –especially if it was his own ass he was protecting. And if she lived, and his client lived, his ass and his reputation were very much on the chopping block.

With another sigh, the assassin pressed a hand to his temple, fingers curling around a lock of dark blonde hair as he growled again just for added measure. “I’m not sure you understood: I’m a bloody assassin. I pay people for money.” Opening his eyes again, he focused them on her face –damn it, she was still so snoggable-, before stalking towards her and leaning close, face to face. “You are not going to pay me a cent, and I am going to set up your goddamned meeting. But if things do not work out, one of you dies and it’s whichever of you suits my means best.” His voice was guttural and angry as he wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, eyes settling on hers as he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, before whispering against her skin. “And it’s only because I bloody well love snogging you.”