After staying up all night with tedious paperwork (well, she did have to make money somehow, didn't she) and watching horrible late-night soap operas with more than enough shots of vodka, a normal person would have enjoyed the next day off, especially since they had no further plans. As she retired to her king-sized bed, which was surprisingly void of another human body, and had fallen asleep for only a few hours, her phone rang again. Despite the protests that her fatigued body made to her, she couldn't miss a call. No. Scratch that. She never missed a call, at least, not before checking the caller I.D. Muttering a quick, "This better be important," she glanced at the phone, and flipped it opened, beginning to answer halfheartedly to the person on the other end. A placed sneer marred her pretty face; it seemed to suit her well.

Mr. William Spyder requested her presence at The Tea Party that afternoon, two o'clock sharp.

A scoff emitted from her parted lips as she shut the phone off, pushing herself off of the bed and stretched. There was no use sleeping now. She had a public to impress. The next hour and a half were spent in the shower, in her closet, and basically, making herself presentable enough for a luncheon, his treat, she presumed, but still stuffed her wallet into her purse before leaving the house, summoning a cab.

It had only taken her less than twenty minutes from her posh apartment in the upper section of the city to the exclusive restaurant located in the more wealthy business district. After paying the driver his money, she entered the restaurant, but they didn't need to ask who and where her reservation was; they already knew. And then, as the waitress timidly walked her over to her table, it was then that she spotted him - The King of Hearts.

A condescending smile beckoned at her lips, tugging at the very corners, but she played it off as just a formality. Smoothing her green skirt down, she took a seat, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ears, and leaned back into the chair, still staring at him. It was hard to believe that he was two years older than her and had an impressive position on the police force when he looked like a sixteen year old, and dressed like one as well. No matter. She pulled a cookie onto her own plate and began consuming it while placing her order with the waiter: a pot of hot blueberry tea, a Shepard's pie and a fruit tart platter for dessert.

"I suppose you had a reason for taking me out to lunch, and it'd better not be for intently studying bakery confections."

Always straight to the point without any regards of feelings - just the way she liked it.