Irina wasn’t very …cooperative… with his plans. Most girls would have jumped at the opportunity to let the world know their feelings. There wasn’t anything more glamorous than being a simsense star, after all. He had to switch gears, change strategies and<em>fast</em>. With the trodes off, the girl was now looking at him funny every time he spoke, as the sensation she had become somewhat accustomed to when she had heard his voice was now gone. It was hard to tell through the acting and the distraction posed by her body, but he had the feeling that Irina was getting suspicious, slowly backing out of the job.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">Roll Result: Orell rolled: 8d6<br/>Second Target Number: 5<br/>Comment: Perception 2 + Charisma 4 + 2 Good gear<br/>Result: 6, 2, 6, 6, 6, 3, 1, 5, <br/>For: 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 0, 0, 0, <br/>Total: 5<br/>Orell knows that something is up. <br/></div></div><br/><strong>“Well, not everyone is destined for the mind screen*.”</strong>(*Like the ‘silver screen’, just for simsense. )Orell said and shut down the sensegear. At least the recording had given him some insight into the girl’s emotional state – which was surprisingly calm for such a night. She was a rising professional and yet, for most women Irina’s age, even those with a little experience, a date with the camera was still the epitome of excitement they got. Where the middle class used to be, there was now a<em>gulch</em>, a deep trench that divided society between the haves and the have-nots. Naturally, Orell had sorted Irina to the former. She had style. She had class. Not to mention that street girls usually didn’t grow up to be great lookers with perfect, milky white skin. Usually, some accident, some disease, an asshole with a knife or just<em>attitude</em>and a tattoo artist got in the way. But the more he thought about it, the more certain he got that something was wrong with the girl. She didn’t respond well to his flattery, and she wasn’t awed by the ‘possibilities’ and ‘opportunities’ he threw her way. And she was too damn<em>calm</em>. As if… as if she was used to playing a game with higher stakes than who was going to grace the cover of next week’s<em>GlittterSprawl</em>. Was she some kind of undercover agent? Orell certainly didn’t feel like he was high enough on the totem pole to warrant this kind of attention. So, while Irina continued to pose for the camera, he quickly plugged into his comlink and made a few ‘arrangements’ to put his theory to the test. Of course he could just let the girl walk – obviously, he was getting nowhere with her – but something about Irina Sarkova had him mesmerized. Of course, if she was, in fact, dangerous, then the stakes had suddenly gone through the roof. But he still<em>had</em>to try to make her his. Something about Irina made the thought of<em>owning</em>her the only thing he could really focus on. With a smile, Orell gave his final instructions before returning his attention back to the girl. This wasn't going to be easy... or painless. But if he was right about Irina, then she wasn’t the only one who thrived on danger.<br/><br/><strong>“Alright.”</strong>He said and clapped his hands.<strong>”I think we have enough angles. It was a productive first session. Now I am going to get the material glossed up in post-processing and present it to my bosses by the end of the week. If they like what they see – and at this point I’m very enthusiastic – then you will certainly hear from us again.”</strong>Orell spewed the usual parade of bullshit.<br/><br/>The truth… the truth was that he had indeed presented a glimpse of Irina to his bosses. The caption read: ‘possible enemy agent, identity unknown’. And he had made arrangements, too: on her way home, someone would make a move on her. A deniable asset, just some …kid… hoping to make his name as a Vori. But Orell would be nearby, watching, to see what Irina Sarkova was made of.<br/><br/>Orell smiled and escorted Irina downstairs and to her car, repeatedly talking about how bright a future he saw for her – but only for appearance’s sake. After all, he had already decided that Irina’s next ‘interview’ would be in a very different ‘studio’. It wouldn't be the first time that his little recoding basement with it's sex toys and simsense gear would double as an interrogation room for the russian mob. And wasn't it coincidence that whips and chains were 'dual use' as far as he was concerned? He could already picture Irina naked and strung up with rope, every part of her securely tied to the numerous eyebolts that were everywhere on the walls, floor and ceiling, screwed into the naked concrete. Would she whimper when he whipped her? Would she beg when he invited Grigory and 'friends' to take part in the 'festivities'? Or would she put up a fight and stay strong for days? Somehow, Orell couldn't decide what would excite him more.<br/><br/>But first, he had his own preparations to make: this was going to be a double ambush. First the kid, to make Irina reveal the extent of her abilities and draw out any possible backup. And then himself and Grigory, with proper gear and from good positions. Grigory wasn’t very smart, but he sure liked his sims like he liked his girls: ‘hot’, which meant that he never strayed very far from Orell’s side. He would have liked to have a bit more muscle (and brains) on his side now that the job had turned out to be a bit more exciting, but the boss was stingy.<br/>