<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/51/a1/58/51a158ea292ad600669c76f404d6e5aa.jpg)</div>Constance Patteron, Connie to her friends and family, wondered just how long it would take for her to get use to passing under an assumed name and working undercover as she jotted down notes about the Russian woman she had been observing under her mentor's suggestion for a few weeks now. A few weeks of working odd hours, playing off excuses to keep her new 'partner' from realizing she was ignoring the dismissive stance about the Russian spy in their midst that Captain Folsom had made very clear.<br/><br/>The only issue there was the fact that Connie had never been particularly good at following orders that ran counter to what she thought, though part of her lingering so long to watch Veronika Arkhangelskaya was a result of her mentor's encouragement, and very few men were as good at planting themselves and refusing to move as Peggy Carter, a very proud member of the SSR. Being the only woman who was a field agent outside of the famous Agent Carter meant that for Connie there was a rather high bar to meet. Not that most of the men in the LA office thought much more of her than a glorified errand girl, coffee fetcher and filing woman. They admired and listened to Peggy, after all that the other woman had done they could hardly not.<br/><br/>One day, one day, they would listen to her though.<br/><br/>Though if the price of getting them to listen to her was sewing for hours and hours it might not be worth it, she thought glumly as she finished off another costume adjustment on a bikini, the last of five. Her mother had taught her how to sew, and Connie wasn't ashamed of the fact that she was a wizard with a needle and thread, indeed making her own clothing had proven useful any number of times with hidden pockets in her skirts or slits in a dress bodice to carry a bit of paper or something else where no one would expect it. It just didn't feel like she was actually doing anything, and it might be far too easy to become comfortable as Sandra Thompson, fashion goddess and costume director.<br/><br/>Her mission though stormed through into the dressing room with an expression that made it clear she was none too happy after the days filming and Connie happily discarded both the bikini and her depressing thoughts as the door slammed and she adopted a look of concern that wasn't entirely a facade. Even if she didn't trust the Russian, aka Norman Khramov, she still found herself liking the girl, er, man. Hard to think of the slender blond as a man, considering the breasts that even now strained against the confines of the bikini top in agitation though. The rant gave her an inkling that it was the director that had upset the other woman, and the almost threat confirmed that the once spy and assassin was in fact still dangerous.<br/><br/>At the compliment to her work the redhead gave a shake of her head, "It's nice of you to say, but I understand the frustration. The world operates on men's views sadly." There was a hint of her own bitterness in her voice then, for the curvy redhead was constantly striving to prove that she could do everything the men of her unit did and just as well. But she was female, petite and feminine, and therefore lesser. It made her wonder why Norman had wanted to become a woman when there had to have been other ways of vanishing.<br/><br/>When the blond went behind the dressing screen she picked up the street clothes Veronika had arrived in and carried them over to offer around the screen's protection. "Well this is your first acting gig, right? Sometimes it just takes having one picture out to get other agents to consider." Being around the Russian had Connie increasingly conflicted, offering reassurance but also wishing the Russian would already do something to give her a chance to prove herself. Once this movie wrapped in a week or so she knew she couldn't continue her own facade. It would seem they were both living on borrowed time.<br/><br/>"Do you want to go for milkshakes?" The offer hopefully seemed innocent, though part of it was a gamble to try and gather more intel.