Kim. Tonight she felt like being a Kim. Details were important. Not so much the details of who Kim was, so much as how Kim looked. Kim was... Kim was...<br/><br/>Kim was Korean. Mostly Korean at least, though there were hints of something more European tickling at the corner of her eyes. A light dappling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, just beneath her sleek and over priced glasses.<br/><br/>Kim was a professional. She dressed like corporate middle management, all monotone and starched collar. The blandest colors from top name designers, it was the suit for someone who thought price made a deeper impression on clients than individuality.<br/><br/>Kim was a natural beauty. Her nails were well tended but conservative. French manicure. Her hair was long and a rich black, that she kept bound in a tight little bun atop her head. She wore very little make up, and had a nervous tick that consisted of checking her hair every two to three minutes.<br/><br/>The details were coming faster now. Kim was a workaholic. Kim was a clever girl. Kim was hungry for advancement.<br/><br/>The starched white shirt she wore was left open just enough to offer a hint of cleavage, and the cut up the thigh of her business skirt was exactly half an inch above the frilly top of her stockings. She was the kind of girl that knew a quick fuck on the department head's desk would advance her career much faster than consistent hard work and diligence.<br/><br/>Kim... was early. Ten minutes early. It was important to her to arrive early to any appointment. Not too early. She wasn't the kind of girl who wanted to appear eager. At least not too eager.<br/><br/>Kim feigned nervousness as she was taken to the booth, a cursory scan of her slim suitcase revealing it to be clean of any weapons or bugs. She had not been nervous in some years, but the facial ticks of a person trying to keep their shit together despite discomfort was surprisingly useful in disarming onlookers. It made her seem vulnerable and human.<br/><br/>Kim was vulnerable. And human. These were important details to convey.<br/><br/>She offered a polite bow to the women she assumed were her coworkers, the motion stiff and uncertain, like a habit that she wasn't entirely sure was appropriate. when their host appeared, she leaned in to listen intently.<br/><br/>Kim was respectful. She always gave her superiors her full attention, particularly during a first encounter. First impressions were lasting and she was the type that desperately craved making a good one. Depressingly, Mr. Johnson provided very little actual information about future employment.<br/><br/>... and it was then that she saw Meryl. Meryl was American with short dirty blond hair and rich blue eyes. Meryl was born in Vermont and had a slight southern twang she was embarrassed about. Meryl worked in New Mexico brothels for her early years. Meryl had two bad marriages and a slight limp in her left leg from a domestic abuse incident in her late teens. Meryl..<br/><br/>Kim blinked rapidly, sitting back into the soft embrace of the couch as she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment. For an instant she looked like a woman fighting vertigo, before she looked back at the ID holo.<br/><br/>Meryl didn't look anything like Kim.<br/><br/>It was a face she'd retired almost fifteen years prior, back when her handle had been "Ghost Dancer". She used a great many handles even now, mostly for the versatility it offered her. "Roulette" was particularly well known for espionage and sucking secrets out of corporate executives. "Party Girl" had a reputation for negotiation and facilitating underworld traffic. "Snuff" was a honey trap for cheating spouses. "Ghost Dancer" on the other hand was a political activist or at least she served as the militant gun for hire for small time environmental groups looking to stick it to the megacorps. "Origami" was the name she used when it was wetworks...<br/><br/>It was a simple filing system trick that told her immediately upon being contacted precisely the type of job that she was in store for. And also, having separate underworld identities garnered more work. After all, "Snuff" customers would not like to think that they were hiring a well known political terrorist or assassin to sport fuck their spouse. It had escaped her attention until this instant however that Mr. Johnson had not specified any alias.<br/><br/>That was an important detail she had overlooked. That usually would concern her but for the fact that right now, she was Kim. And Kim was the type that just smiled softly to mask her troubles when in front of fellow employees. Kim didn't sweat the small things.<br/><br/>She offered a bright smile to her coworkers as they were dismissed, "I hope we can be friends as well as coworkers!" Beneath the sea of details that were Kim, she was uneasy. In a good way. The anticipation was crawling across her skin like ants, her body aching from two weeks of "vacation"<br/><br/>She was ready to get back to work.<br/><br/>++++++++<br/><br/>Kim clutched her briefcase in front of her waist with both hands as they entered the suite, letting go with one hand only long enough to check her hair. The case had scanned clean in the club for the simple reason that it was completely empty. She set down the prop as she took a moment to peek inside her "room".<br/><br/>Beneath her plastic corporate cheerfulness, she was suddenly very concerned to see the equipment that had been set up for her use. Her employer knew a great deal about her methodology, which was of great concern for someone whose greatest asset was anonymity. She flexed her fingers, the HUD on her glasses performing a quick weapons check. All fifteen came back green as she turned back towards the voices in the bathroom.<br/><br/>"They would never kill us here. It would be more cost effective to shoot us in the Maiden. A hotel room like this..." She ran her fingers across the marble counter, the fingerprints visible clearly against the high polished stone, "Someone has to leave their credstick and first born child at the front desk for insurance purposes. I do not believe that there is any chance they are shooting this place up without laying down plastic tarps. An assassin in the current market would be cheaper than restoring the Brazilian marble."<br/><br/>She scooted her butt onto the sink basin, crossing her legs demurely. Kim seemed to be measuring the pros and cons of saying something for almost a full ten seconds before she admitted, "And yes. People have had sex in the bathtub." There was a certainty to her voice, as if she had either seen people mid-coitus in the tub first hand or she WAS one of the people.