She eyed Gordon up nervously. "Ready as I'll ever be," came the reply. But, before they could exit the car, Louise grasped him by the tie and pulled him in for a heady kiss--shortened, yet desirous nonetheless--and released him. "Just in case, you know--things go arse over tit during the next hour and a half," she said, shrugging.

Louise climbed out of the vehicle first. She was the least likely to be noticed straight off the bat. Slowly, she walked into the back door of the venue, past the kitchens and the offices, and slithered her way into a side door of the Grand Ballroom, where she acted as a normal partygoer would at such an event, strolling over to the catering table and blithely picking up a canapé, taking a small nibble as her eyes swept the place. A sharply-dressed, dark haired man took his place beside her, sidling up next to the fruit plates.

"Those are some melons," he quipped. Louise whirled round, about to give him a mouth full of teeth, only to see him proffering some honeydew her way. Colouring, she gritted her teeth and attempted to smile. "Yes! Lovely," she remarked with a tight chuckle, still scanning the immediate area. "Amazing what's in season this time of year." Suddenly, her eyes focused upon one of their targets, a young man who used to be plied by Fish to roofie girls who would show up at her club in order to hoodwink them into working for her. And then, just as suddenly, those same eyes sought out the form of one James Gordon.