What Do You Do? - DUCH Minerva Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez
"And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern—shall enthrall but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male."
- Rudyard Kipling, Female of the Species
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"So what do you do, Min?" He leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his lips. Ah, there it was. The basic question always asked on a first date, which usually ended it rather abruptly. There were generally three options here:
Scenario #1: "Oh, the same thing everyone else in the Lyarnan system does - work for the BHG in one capacity or another."
Result: Laughter, and moving on to a less dangerous subject. Flying colors, right? Not so much. Forty minutes later he's managed to realize that "Min" is short for "Minerva Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez." Sometimes longer, depending on what stories he's heard.
It's hard to connect the propaganda from my stint as Tactician with the pretty woman dressed in business casual making polite conversation. Watching the revelation occur is actually pretty hilarious to watch, but hell on my social life. Seems like the only guys who want a second date also want a dominatrix. Sigh.
So let's not even mention the BHG. Vague: that's the ticket. Yeah.
Scenario #2: "Administrative work, mostly. I'm thinking about moving back into the field instead of being in the office all day."
Result: This usually receives a polite response to the dissembling answer, quickly followed by subconscious condescension. I figure they think I'm a Vice President or higher, then take that answer to mean file clerk. Which just royally pisses me off, irrational as that is, since I don't really want a guy who'd be satisfied with a file clerk anyway.
"Oh, I'm sorry. By 'administrative work,' I meant -"
Scenario #3: "Assassinations, mostly."
Which is the answer I go straight for now, anyway.
Result:
"Heh. Right, right. But seriously-" There's just enough uncertainty that he focuses more on attacking the scraps of salad than meeting my eyes.
"Would you prefer a polite euphemism? I've got quite a few for situations like these." When I try not to laugh aloud, I do this little eyebrow flick. That's what convinced him that I'm telling the truth. Apparently the eyebrow flick cannot be denied.
The salad scraps looked so beat up at that point that I handed the rolls for him to shred nervously. "So… how do you- I mean, what's your..."
"Method? Specialty?" He nodded, overstuffed mouth covered politely. "Poison." Perhaps my timing could have been better with those rolls. He half inhaled it in the initial gasp of horror, then spent the next three minutes alternately coughing and frantically trying to wave away my help. This would be why my favorite restaurant on Ravouin lends me the private room. It's always awkward when your date suddenly starts screaming bloody murder, in that literal kind of way.
"There's a contract out on me, isn't there? God, that bastard Slavast was threatening me just last-"
"No, no. Listen to me. I kill for a living. It's a job, not pleasure. Bounty Hunters don't go to the elaborate lengths most people fantasize about. Killing someone is ridiculously easy, unless you want to do it in some melodramatic way in revenge. We certainly don't go out on a date with the target and give our real names. Alright?"
He nodded, taking the proffered glass of water. Smart guy; he realized he was either dead already, or being told the truth. Rational thought doesn't overcome the fight-or-flight reaction easily. Often, not at all. Half a minute pretty much tells you whether they can handle it or not.
Fifteen seconds later, "Since you almost killed me on the first date, even unintentionally, I think you owe me a second. Slavant is hosting this charity event for couples..."
"Slavant. That guy you thought hired me?" A confirming nod. "Long as you don't expect me to show up in a deadly seductress outfit, then sure. I don't mind ulterior motives."
"So, ah, speaking of those ulterior motives and seductress outfits..."
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