Date: September 1st, 2012
City: Las Vegas
State: Nevada
Synopsis: Parker needs some spells, and word is Pierre's just the witch for the job.


It had really been a banner few days at Big Ed's Place. Parker had spent her first forty-odd hours watching television while Dean and Jo drank themselves into a stupor and everyone else avoided her like she had a disease. What was the point of trying to act normal if no one was going to trust her anyways? Things did start to get interesting when Ellen started yelling at her daughter to pull herself together and drop the bottle, but Parker hadn't stayed long for that. The ensuing shouting match had made it pretty easy for her to slip out unnoticed, overnight bag in hand.

She had spent the next sixteen hours making the drive from Creta to Las Vegas, Nevada. The only thing she had actually managed to get done while stuck underground was make a plan, and she had to admit that it was pretty damn genius; all she had needed was to find a witch, and a quick call to Ruby had gotten her the name and location of one of the best. Now she just had to convince him to help her out. Which is what the Glock in her belt was for.

Ruby had told her that he would be staying in one of the top floors of the most impressive hotel in the city, and that had certainly not been an understatement. From the imposing marble columns to the small lake of a fountain in the lobby, the place was a towering monument to douchebags with money to burn. She wasn't sure whether she hated everyone there, or wanted to be one of them.

But back to the plan. She checked to make sure the scrap of paper was in her back pocket, and then approached the front desk. Waving down a name tag-wearing young woman in a sharp suit, she put on her best embarrassed smile and pulled out the paper.

"I'm really sorry to bother you," Parker said, her voice half an octave higher than normal. "I met this guy last night at a club, and he wrote down his name and hotel on a napkin, but the room number got ripped off. Is there any way at all that you could tell me what room number he's in? He's, uh, got something of mine that I really need back." She looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then mouthed 'my underwear'. The girl gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Sure, just don't tell me boss, okay?" She told her, before tapping away at her computer for a few seconds. "Let's see, he's in... the Presidential Suite, top floor. Should I ring him and tell him you're coming up?"

"Oh, no, that's okay, thanks." Parker said with the sweetest smile she could muster. "Thanks so much for all your help."

For such an expensive hotel, it was remarkably simple to slip the lock of the suite door. Parker slipped in quietly, glancing around the gigantic suite with a mix of wariness and wonder. Jesus, talk about lavish. She didn't even want to know how much this cost a night.

The lights were off in the foyer and the living room beyond, but she could see light coming from the door that was slightly ajar at the end of the hall. She walked as quietly as she could, and opened the door into what was the biggest bedroom she had ever seen. The bedding had obviously been recently used, but there was no one in sight. However, she could hear the shower running from the en suite bathroom, and a voice. No, two voices. Well, this was going get a bit awkward.

Pulling the Glock out of the back of her pants, Parker walked into the bathroom and pulled open the glass shower door.

"You must be Pierre. We need to talk." She said, addressing the naked man, before turning to his female companion. "You can get out. Bye bye."

Pierre loved Las Vegas. He always tried to spend a couple weeks a year in it's perpetual neon glow. It was crude and wealthy and tireless and everything he loved about Americans. Where else in the world could he get a hotel suite so obscenely luxurious? And more than anything, Pierre liked luxury. Well, maybe slightly less than he like power. Which could also be found in Vegas; in the form of desperate little people he could take advantage of to further his own status. They generally got what they wanted too, of course. No one would come to him if he merely ripped them off.

The casinos he did usually rip off, however. Pierre spent a couple hours some evenings using magic to cheat at various games, further lining his billfold. It wasn't very challenging, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't satisfy him, however.

Not as much as the women, of course. Good lord, there had never been such a collection of easily won women in all of time as there was in present day Vegas. And Pierre, with his good looks and charm and gigantic presidential suite, didn't have a lot of trouble finding company when he wanted it. Which was what he'd been doing for the past couple hours, entertaining company. He wasn't really into the post coital interactions for the most part, however, so had jumped in the shower so the woman could leave or go to sleep or whatever. Instead she'd surprised him by joining him. He could definitely be on board with that.

Before there was really an opportunity to start round two, however, a strange smallish person with a gun broke into his bathroom and held them at gun point. Far from surprising or unnerving Pierre, however, he was slightly amused and intrigued. When his now frightened friend looked at him for what to do, he nodded that she should do like the brunette said and leave. He got quite a pissed look for that, but she took the robe and stalked out of the bathroom. After a minute, he heard the outer door to the suite slam too.

"I take it you want something from me," he said to Parker, flipping off the shower and stepping out of it. He arched an eyebrow at her before reaching for the towel on the rack. Rather than wrapping it around himself, however, Pierre used it to towel some of the water out of his hair. "I think you've got me at enough of a disadvantage. You don't really need that," he said, nodding at the gun.

Parker moved aside to let the the other girl grab a robe and get out of the shower. The look she gave was practically murderous, but quickly turned to fear when Parker held her gun up. That got her to leave quickly. “She seems nice.” She mused as the front door slammed shut.

Leaning against the wall, she turned her attention back to the witch. She had hunted a witch or two before, she knew they didn’t all look like wrinkled old crones, but this she hadn’t expected. Hot male witch with a foreign accent? Thank you Ruby. She looked him over absently, not at all ashamed to watch him get out of the shower and towel off his hair. It was hard to tell with all the water, but she thought that he probably had really nice hair. And also abs. And also... okay, too low.

She had to smile when he mentioned the gun, though she continued to fix him with her most intimidating stare. He didn’t seem all that intimidated, by her or the gun currently pointed at him. Shrugging, she lowered it, but didn’t actually take her finger off the trigger. She didn’t trust witches, especially ones this blindingly handsome. He looked like he was maybe in his late-twenties, but something made Parker thing that he was much, much older.
“The name’s Parker.” She told him, trying to keep her eyes from wandering south. “I’m going to assume that you’re Pierre. I heard you take requests.”

She had planned on playing this like she knew what the hell she was talking about, but in all honesty, Parker knew next to nothing about how hexes work. Her speciality was shooting things in the head, not playing Voodoo Martha Stewart. Hell, she wasn’t even entirely sure what she needed to make this plan of hers happen, but that’s why she needed a witch.

“You maybe wanna put some pants on or something?” She asked, raising her eyebrows slightly. It was a bit difficult to concentrate on holding a conversation when there was so much... nakedness in front of her. And she was really trying to play the cool and collected villain here.

Pierre's lips quirked up into a smile when the strange girl commented on his date. "Quite," he agreed as he stepped out of the shower. He was aware of Parker's stare as he dried the excess water from his hair, but it didn't register as an embarrassment or concern, or even something he should do something about. Water was still dripping off him and onto the cool tile floor. The witch moved on to drying his face, then neck, then down to his shoulders.

"Parker? What an unusual name." Ice blue eyes looked her over. "It suits you." he said pleasantly, intending it as a compliment. "You are mostly correct; I am Pierre. But I don't always take requests. I'm not a businessman, Parker," he explained as he dried his chest. "And as such, I only do things because I enjoy it, or if there's something in it for me." He didn't bother grilling her about who she'd heard it from. It wasn't like he kept it a secret. She'd known his name and clearly knew he was a witch. If she were a hunter who went after witches, she wouldn't be here to bargain, so he didn't think she was an immediate threat, for all she was still armed.

He raised his own eyebrows when she asked him to put on pants. "You are in my bathroom, not the other way around," Pierre reminded her, but then gave an elegant half-shrug. He wrapped his towel around his waist, knotted it, then started for the door. "Come with me," he said, clearly expecting her to.

Once in the bedroom, he tossed a casual "make yourself at home," over his shoulder and disappeared into the closet. The bed was the only seating in this particular room, but the door to the living area was open and there was plenty of seating out there. Pierre didn't give an indication as to which he meant.

After a couple minutes, he reemerged from the closet wearing dark slacks and a cream colored casual button up, and went looking for his guest. "Now, why don't you tell me about your request?" he suggested when he found her, buttoning up his shirt. "And I'll tell you whether or not I'll do it."

Pierre seemed to be a bit of an asshole. Parker liked that. She was used to dealing with assholes, she knew how to this worked: they'd banter, he'd flirt, she'd remind him that she was holding a gun, they'd strike a bargain. It wasn't the first time she'd dealt with a guy like Pierre, though they weren't usually quite this good looking. Or naked.

She didn't like being told what to do, but tried to silence her hurt pride as she followed him into the bedroom. She fully intended to take him up on his offer and sit on the bed, until she saw how tall the mattress was. Jesus, at her height she would have to talk a running start to get on that thing. Plan B time.

Leaving the bedroom, she ended up making herself at home on the large L-shaped couch that faced the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room. With it's white carpets, smudge-less glass, and cream furnishings, the entire suite was far too clean for Parker's tastes. She pulled off her beat up leather jacket and threw it onto the back of the sofa, and propped her motorcycle boots onto the coffee table that probably cost more than her car. Hey, she wasn't the one paying the security deposit. The gun she put on the sofa cushion next to her, far enough to show that she wasn't worried, but close enough for easy reach if needed.

She looked him over as he came out of the bedroom (mostly) dressed. Parker usually preferred a guy in a worn t-shirt and jeans, but damn, Pierre certainly could pull of a button down. The small smile she gave him was obviously one of approval.

"I need a hex," She told him, leaning back with her arms crossed. "Or a spell or whatever. Something that would cause nightmares. I've got a couple of acquaintances dealing with some post-traumatic stress. I want to make it worse."

She'd clearly taken him at his word when he'd said make herself at home. There was a cocky, self-confident quality about the way she lounged in his living room that Pierre approved of. He respected people who knew what they wanted and took it, and it was becoming ever more clear that Parker was one of those people. If the way she had barged into his bathroom hadn't caught his interest enough to consider her request, her attitude would have.

The request itself was a little surprising. His browns raised and an amused smile tugged at his lips. This girl certainly knew how to shake things up. "Well, that will certainly get their attention. Do you treat all your friends this well?" Rather than answering the unspoken request of whether or not he would give her such a hex, Pierre crossed over to the in suite bar.

"Would you care for a drink?" he asked pleasantly. It was probably late enough to be technically morning - he put it somewhere around three am, but had lost track of time there for a while and could be wrong - but everyone knew that appropriate beverages switched from alcohol to coffee when the sun came up. And even then, this was Vegas. There was never not an appropriate time for a drink. Especially if one was going to be conducting illicit business.

He poured himself a scotch, took Parker's answer into consideration, and returned to the couch on which she sat. He put the liquor on the coffee table, then took a seat in an arm chair. "I can construct such a hex," he confirmed at last, speaking as to his ability, not whether or not he would. "I am a bit curious as to why I should, however," he added, giving Parker a look inviting her to persuade him.

"I never said they were friends." Parker snapped, a menacing edge to her voice. Something about admitting to being close to Jo and Dean put her on edge, like hearing nails screeching on a chalkboard. She could be around them, plot a thousand different ways that she might make their lives hell, but she couldn't think about how they had been before she had died. Some switch went off in her head that turned every other emotion into instant rage, and she was having a hard time not throwing something whenever it came up.

She was getting better at calming down, though. A few deep breaths and a few seconds of staring out the window and she managed to relax again. Hell, other than her little outburst, it was hardly noticeable. She gave herself a little mental pat on the back.

"Whiskey." She said, her slight grin back. She wasn't used to top shelf booze, and the bar in Pierre's room seemed to be nothing but. Damn, if she knew being a witch made this much money she would have given up hunting a long time ago. Though she'd probably miss all the shooting things.

She took the glass he put down in front of her, taking a sip. Seriously, she had to invest in some better alcohol. "What, you want the sales pitch?" She asked with a laugh.

"Okay, fine. You should do this because I've got money to cover twice what I know it's actually worth. You should do it because I'm a hunter, I'm in the loop, and if anyone ever comes after you I can help. You should do it because I'm the girl who has no problem shooting you and finding another witch. But that one should be pretty obvious."

Pierre lifted his hands in placation as Parker snapped at him. He hadn't meant to imply anything. If he had to guess, he'd say from her sharp reaction that these people were once friends. But you know what the great thing about Pierre was? He honestly did not care. Parker's drama was Parker's. It wasn't his problem. And he wasn't her therapist or her boyfriend, so he didn't have to make it his problem.

He lifted his brows momentarily, as if to say “of course,” when she asked if he wanted the sales pitch. Sipping his scotch, Pierre watched her with amusement while Parker came up with several reasons as to why he should do this for her. He wasn't particularly worried about her shooting him; he didn't get to live this long by being helpless against hunters. Nor did he particularly need the money. But she amused him, and keeping her around while he did this for her would amuse him as well.

“Very well,” he agreed, taking another drink of his scotch and setting it back on the coffee table. Pierre stood, and crossed over to a nearby cabinet. He withdrew a black leather bag, which he then carried to the dining table. “This could take some time, however you are more than welcome to wait,” he assured her graciously.

“I can make your hex in two ways,” Pierre explained, pulling various items out of the bag and placing them on the table. “If you have something that belongs to these two people, I can cast it specifically on them. Otherwise, I can make a general hex bag that will affect anyone. You must place among their belongings for it to work.” Pierre paused a beat, then added, “I will, of course, provide you with a box that will allow you to transport them without being affected.” Ever the gentleman.

Parker smiled at Pierre's offer. She didn't know if he meant hours or days, but she definitely wouldn't have a problem spending some time in this hotel room. Especially if he came with it. It was hard not to be just a little bit distracted by how devastatingly handsome he was, even clothed. Though thus far she preferred him without, honestly.

She picked up her drink and followed him to the dining room table, curious to see what actually went into a hex. Ruby had explained the basics to her, just so she might seem informed, but she had pretty much avoided trying her hand at witchcraft thus far. Parker knew herself well enough to know that she shouldn't be trusted with something that required such precision. She could easily end up burning the house down, or worse.

"Hex bags are fine," She told him, flipping a chair around and straddling it. "I don't want anything too permanent, you know, in case I get bored."

She watched Pierre work with an interest that she did a decent job hiding, though her relaxed demeanor couldn't hide the excitement shining in her eyes. It looked so simple when he did it, but she knew it would take a hunter ages to even figure out what they need. It was pretty impressive, she had to admit.

"So exactly how long will this take?" She asked him after a few minutes, finishing her drink. "I don't mind waiting, but if this is going to be a little sleepover, I think I forgot my toothbrush."

Pierre glanced at her as Parker joined him, but did not comment on it. The witch never minded an audience, and this wasn't exactly a spell that required a lot of intense focus. Just the right ingredients combined in a way that would bring the intended result. Pierre acknowledged her answer with a slight nod, already absorbed with his craft. Nevertheless, the corners of his lips tugged upward at her reasoning. Bored indeed.

He lifted a glass jar to eye level, shaking it slightly, then put it back in his bag with a slight shake of the head. While dreaming was a quality of that one, it was more commonly used in love spells and Pierre had gotten the impression that Parker wanted the opposite. His fingers hesitated over another glass bottle. “You said that you wished to make their trauma greater?” Pierre clarified with Parker, waiting for her answer before adding caraway seeds to the table. He loved it when he got to mess with memories, and thought the memory and dream elements would pair nicely. Lastly he added a dried, twisted sprig of chicory root to his assembled supplies, which would turn the purpose into a hex, not a blessing.

Pierre set a bundle of what appeared to be a variety of bones on the table, then two medium sized black bags. Finally he added a small folded kit and several swatches of black material, then pushed his bag further down the table so it would be out of the way. Unfolding the kit, he withdrew a white wax pencil and, careless of the hotel's belongings, began sketching a heptagram on the table's dark surface.

Looking up at Parker as he finished, Pierre grinned. “I'm sure concierge would be able to find you a replacement,” he said instead of answering her question. Pierre took one of the pieces of cloth and spread it out in the center of the star. Then, appearing to recall something, opened up one of the bags he had set out earlier. Poking around inside it, he shook his head.

"I am going to need another supply in order to finish these," he announced. "I should be able to find it in town, but not until shops open in the morning. If you are tired, you are more than welcome to the bed,” he offered. It was pretty late – or early, depending on your view – and not everyone kept Vegas' inexhaustible hours.

Parker nodded at his question, watching him work. She had no idea what half of the ingredients were, but she refrained from asking any stupid questions while she saw the hex bags come together. Learning some basic witchcraft would probably be helpful, but with friends like Pierre, what was the point? Not that they were friends. Since they had met about 15 minutes ago. When she had pulled a gun on him in the shower. Damn, maybe she should be working on her social skills.

She finished her drink while he was still working, so got up and helped herself to the bar. Seriously, top shelf booze, well done. As she mixed herself a Manhattan (her first cocktail in a while that wasn't in a plastic Solo cup), she listened to what Pierre was telling her from across the room.

Usually it was pretty obvious to her when someone was trying to get in her pants, but with him she really wasn't sure. There was definitely some flirting going on, but he was also European, so she couldn't figure out how serious he actually was.

"What, are you trying to get me into your bed?" She asked with a wink, leaning against the bar. She was tired enough to take his offer either way, but she was kind of hoping that he'd be there as well. Because seriously, who wouldn't want a piece of that?

Grabbing her drink, she made her way back to the bedroom, pausing to pull off her boots with her free hand as she went. She threw them towards her jacket still on the couch, then turned back to Pierre at the door. "So you gonna join me or what?" She asked bluntly. Subtlety was never really her thing anyway.

Pierre grouped together the necessary supplies he would need to finish this in a few hours, then returned the extra to his bag. They wouldn't take too long to assemble, but Parker would likely find 90% of the preparations boring. The magic of it came toward the end; until then it was all just preparing herbs and assembling the necessary items.

“Darling, if I were trying to get you into bed, you wouldn't have to ask if I was,” Pierre told Parker, with a lecherous smile that let her know that while he wasn't particularly trying, he was also very for the idea of her being in it. It had never been his intention to be a gentleman and sleep on the couch while she enjoyed his bed, he also had thought to finish his work out here before heading to bed himself. The state of things could, to his thinking, be assessed then. Namely whether or not she was still conscious, or at all agreeable.

When she made it clear, however, that she was definitely agreeable, Pierre decided his work could wait until the morning as well. He smiled smugly at Parker, nodding once. It hadn't taken him very long after meeting her to decide that he definitely wanted to bed her, should the opportunity arise, and now it was. He left the table as it was and joined her as she entered the bedroom.

Even if she hadn't meant it sexually, Pierre didn't sleep clothed and was unbuttoning his shirt even before they got to the bed. Not one to waste words, the witch closed the distance between them and all but lifted the short woman onto the edge of the tall bed. He shed his shirt and stepped between her knees, leaning down to press a surprisingly tender kiss to her lips.