The Nightingale Conspiracy [IC]
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August 15th, 2013, 05:59 AM
Lean Mean Roleplaying Machine
Join Date: Feb 2012
Natalia Alden – Maverick Manor
’s lips curled into a small smile, glancing around at the others who seemed at least somewhat relieved at the fact that she was there for the heist. Felix caught her attention somewhat, with his… peculiar accent, and once he had finished, she cleared her throat softly.
“You sure have a lot of confidence in my abilities, which I’m grateful for, but don’t you think that if robbing the bank had been easy for me, I would’ve done it sooner?”
She glanced around at their reactions with a wry little smirk before looking back to Raymond, shifting around to move her left leg across her right, folding her arms across her chest and watching the slides, nodding softly and listening to the plan.
In general, she liked the plan. It was sophisticated, it required wits and skill from all of them and, most importantly in her mind, she would be the first one in the vault. This prompted a near sightless grin on her lips, raising her hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear with one of her claws while nodding softly in response to him asking for suggestions.
“Mmh… I like it. You really have looked into us and figured out our different strengths, haven’t you?” She tilted her head softly to look over Raymond, a little snicker escaping her. “As long as every other obstacle is removed, which, from the sound of your plan they will be, I should be able to get past the defenses surrounding the vault on my own.”
She paused, trailing a claw softly over the armrest of her chair, looking intently up at the plans, eyes shifting back and forth while trying to find any flaws with the plan. “I suggest we make our way away from the bank separately as to not get seen or caught together, and meet up at a designated safehouse. The front door, after detonating the explosives is definitely the best bet for this. I can, of course, just take on the form of someone else and saunter out, but it shouldn’t be an issue for the rest of you either. And I take it that we’ll make sure the president of the bank doesn’t interfere with our call? Mind you, I need to at least hear his voice before I can imitate it properly.”
When does a man die?
When he is hit by a bullet? No.
When he suffers a disease? No.
When he eats a soup made out of a poisonous mushroom? No!
A man dies when he is forgotten.
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