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No need to hide her true face? Her red eyes look more at Cillian, and for the first time all night, she can say she's appreciative of the Underboss. This was why that recruit said to meet with him.[break][break]

"Good. Trying to please people can be irritating," she scoffs, that sweet talker persona dropped fully in lieu of the mistress beneath. A resting bitch face taking its place. His continued speech of earning power, has her roll her eyes. It costs a lot to gain power? She knew that. Probably. Waving her manicured hand in front of herself, she waves it off. "Whatever cost it is, I can pay it, ya ya."[break][break]

She's using Rocket like Rocket will use her, it's just that simple.

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Guess someone doesn't like a little buttering up.[break][break]

Her expression turns a deal more foul, scarlet red hue empty and showing her disdain. Her customer service persona evaporates immediately. With it, she leans back. No longer the dancer of the Ecruteak Theatre women, Miss Helena Hawthorne shows her fangs.[break][break]

"What does anyone, like, want from Rocket these days?" she rests her head on her hand, her elbow on the table, as she kicks her feet under the table.[break][break]

"Power."[break][break]

Confidence of a Seviper, coiled like a queen and ready to strike.

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Oooooh, she's got some bite to her. Actress would be fun, and placing a blue-manicured finger to her chin, she raises a brow. "I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?" The way she says it is so telling, a lot of scorn in her tone.[break][break]

White so looks better on her than some trashy normy brown hair, but Helena would never admit it.[break][break]

"Wow, you do look horrendous," she agrees. Even if she can't show off herself, Helena can at least take a cute selfie. Even as her thumbs dive into her dress to pull it up just a bit, she leans forward, and tucks a strand of that wig hair behind her ear, pushing her hands together on her chest. Scowling with a roll of her eyes, her resting bitch face came back.[break][break]

She scowls harder. "Geez, why do we even like NEED secret identities? We could just be wanted, can't we?" She knows why. Because seeing her hairstylist would be painful. But she wants Moira to know she's discontent.[break][break]

Holding her hand to a fake card, she frowns as she stares at the name. "Like bitch? Do I look like a Blake?" Honest question. And Moira BETTER have the right answer.

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Crazy what a little recon can get you. A name, a preferred drink, details about a guy you want. She's walks the walk, she talks the talk. She's done it for years in high school, then college, and she can certainly do it here at a bar. Enough groundwork, and she doesn't buy her own drinks. More, and she wouldn't buy dinner.[break][break]

But this is a special night. And when Underboss Quinn says he won't drink, she respects the decision.[break][break]

"You got it," she waves with a finger, and does all the ordering herself. A showing of initiative? Maybe. She just wants to make a good first impression, and a water for the Underboss was the first best step.[break][break]

Once he's situated, she starts. "You've got quite the reputation, Underboss Quinn. It's like, so impressive. I admire that," she starts, beating around the bush and trying to stroke the ego before she goes further. Best foot forward. While she wants to be quick and to the chase, a little preamble is fine too![break][break]

"Can I order you some food?"

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Like wow? Crazy work on some hoe bag, Helena is impressed. Way impressed? Especially with the weather like this in this stupid humid region. It's like a sauna all the time, and she hates it. Why the beaches, why the water? It messes with her hair, and it's wreaking havoc on her hair, and it doesn't help she left her hairstylist in Goldenrod.[break][break]

But the moment this Abigail speaks, Helena already likes her. Her kind of bitch. One brow up, and hand to her hat, she places it on a tiny hook to hand, letting those black luscious locks go. With it comes the assessment.[break][break]

And Helena was right to like her. "Ugh, I KNOW. It's like this region hates me," she pouts out, her resting bitch face immediately disappearing. A girl who isn't afraid to disrespect her gets brownie points over a spineless one. Helena is smiling. "I definitely wanna keep it long and layered? I want 'Look-My-Way and Do-What-I-Say' kinda hair? So maybe a few inches, and any product you think can make that happen. Like hair-bang-over-eye kind of pre-fuck look that screams come and get me?" she says exactly what she wants, her tone matter-of-factly, like she's thought it through, but her inflection is uncertain. If Abigail can read between the lines?[break][break]

She will absolutely bestie this girl any day.[break]

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Pft. Big hunting them? Helena isn't even remotely concerned, the smug look on her face, lips upturned in a smirk without a care. And yet...[break][break]

Her smirk twitches. The sweat trickles down her neck, as she feels herself shiver and shake. Why was that cold sweat on her nape? She wasn't afraid. No, but something about this place... it leaves her shivering.[break][break]

It's just the winter air, she tells herself, over and over and over again. The red eyes focused at the foes below, as this thing continued to cause her a light panic. Grabbing Bowie closer, she realizes how alone she feels.[break][break]

They soar closer to Lulu despite seeing the TERA BLAST, her manicured hands shaking as she calls out "What's out here, anyways? Just a bunch of bugs."[break][break]

Helena Hawthorne would never admit her own fear, but with one helluva DRAGON CLAW to bat away another trio of Venomoth, she had no reason to feel that way.[break][break]

Yet she did.[break][break]

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Oh, could the big strong caveman not handle it? Maybe he should have thought that through before getting her outfit and makeup ruined. Oh well, he can deal with it.[break][break]

"Oh, you want to fight me?" Her red eyes narrow, the twitch on her slightly painted lips as she smirks. "Bring it on, you overgrown neanderthal." As Helios came in with a mighty leap, in moments following, Jonas follows suit, getting right in front of Helena, and providing an ERUPTION to vaporize the splashing water into steam from his back, exploding the fire upwards into a pillar of flame. The Quilava gives a look to Helios.[break][break]

The Quilava was smiling.[break][break]

Both hands on Helena's hips, and a lean forward, she feels her left eye twitching more. He just tried again to splash her, but it was the last time he'd ever get the chance. "Me, kiss you? Please," she rolls her eyes, her dainty little hand out away from herself as she couldn't stomach the idea. He's built, but that's like, the only thing going for him. Scars were gross.[break][break]

"But three-on-three, well," she starts, her smirk vaporizes, as she stares towards the river, and scowls. "Not here. Somewhere less wet... Mt. Chimney. Tomorrow."[break][break]

"Unless the limp-dicked caveman can't take the heat?" Now she's manipulating him. More her scene, more advantage to herself. Gives her time to get fixed up again.[break][break]

"And if I win, you'll be my bitchboy for a whole year. Deal?"

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And there he is. Attractive guy, blonde, tall. Taller than her, clearly. But it's clear her beauty isn't his type, and Helena's pouty little resting bitch face isn't entertained. But, best to make good with the higher-ups, in case she needs to get in bed with them early.[break][break]

"Good evening. You must be Underboss Quinn. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Helena Hawthorne, daughter of the Ecruteak Theater in Johto," she begins. She's cordial, much different to the foul mood and expression she gave just moments before his arrival.[break][break]

Though she's vastly focused on her nails, she does peer up to look him in the eyes. And she provides a barely-detectable fake smile.[break][break]

"Are you a scotch kinda guy? Vodka? Or water like me? All on me."

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Riding in on her own, expertly-trained and absolutely adorable dragon, Bowie, she answered the call that came with it. Protect a research station from Rocket, assist in the chasm, and keep those pussies in the League away from it.[break][break]

Defend it? Sounded like work. But now for Bowie. As she reaches nearby, a woman seems to beat her to it, and Helena stared down with a brow raise. A Noivern, blasting away a Tyrantrum?[break][break]

She whistles. And with it, Bowie dives.[break][break]

"Bowie, be a dear, and chomp the bug coming at the woman," she commands, smirking as the Charizard races forward, and ripping into an incoming VENOMOTH via FIRE FANG, with Helena responding in turn, atop her dragon, a hand through her hair, as she wondered how much less graceful Draco Prowler would have handled it.[break][break]

"Hiiiiiiiii! Thought you could use some help!" She coos out towards the slightly older woman, blowing her a kiss.[break][break]

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