Lord George Randoff. Twenty-eight. Has a wife and child. Owner of West England’s largest vineyard, and he makes sure everyone knows it. Makes sure everyone knows about his every accomplishment with that vineyard.

_Snap!_

He should’ve said less.

“That’s our target right there, Olive.” _Snap_! I take another bite of my carrot._ Snap! _Oliver does the same. “Didn’t take long to find him, did it?”

“Well,” says Oliver in that deep, quiet voice of his, “this _is_ his birthday celebration, Olivia.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go ahead and finish this, hmm? The client says he has a taste in men, so you better do your best in the outfit I made you.”

Oliver looks dashing in it, I must say. Vest and waist coat a burgundy, trousers and darker shade of grey. His green eyes, almost the same shade as his name suggests—and the same color and shape as mine—are framed by bushy eyebrows that have volume and speak more than he often does. His skin is a freckled hue of deep brown, lips plump and red. I had given him a makeover so that his face would appear more flushed when speaking to the lord tonight.

Ah, it is getting a bit late. We had arrived a little late, but that was my fault.

I toss the carrot to the side, stroking a gloves hand through my curly hair, marveling at the gorgeous way it bounces with its reddish-brown glory. Oliver’s is the same, shorter of course, but equal in beauty.

He _is_ my twin.

He tosses his carrot to the side as well, then kicks both of ours under a well clipped bush.

“Are you ready, _Mr. Hallow_?” I say to him.

“As always…Ms. Penny.”

I extend my hand. “Then let’s get this assassination over with so we can go home.”

———

Two people: a man and a woman, both dark skinned and wearing matching outfits. They enter as one, eyes focused as though they know where they’re going and what they’re about to do.

I crack my knuckles, brushing the dirt off my trousers as I stand from where I am hiding. I look down at myself, cheap clothing too small for me, and sigh. I’m not at all dressed for the occasion, but Lord Randoff would have to deal with this—if he’s a bitch about it, I swear to everything holy. I’m protecting his life here, so he better be happy.

“And not fall for any…temptations. _Shit_, they move fast.”

I hope over the bush, gaining some curious and disgusted glances my way, and walk quickly to where the woman had left the man with the Lord. _Jesus_, that’s a mouthful.

Let’s hope that’s all this is.

———

As we walk up the the Lord, who is talking a storm with his mates, bragging is all it sounds like, really, Olivia clears her throat and all the men turn to us.

They’re quiet. One of the men to the far right is eyeing Olivia’s breasts. She shudders, but it’s so quick no one notices it but me. He isn’t important, though. The man of the show has his eyes wide on me.

Perfect.

“Hello, milord.” Olivia curtsies, hair bobbing with her. I bow as well, repeating what she said, but more quieter. Talking or interacting with people isn’t my strong suit, but when it’s for business—and feeding ourselves—I’ll put my discomfort away.

Lord George’s pals pat him on the back, glancing at me as they walk away. The lord coughs, licks his lips, then shakes himself out of his stupor. “Welcome! Welcome! Uh—do I know you?” He mostly looks at me as he says this. The edges of his eyes are lined with lust.

I didn’t think Olivia’s outfit designing was that good, but I suppose it is. It fits around my muscular body pretty well. Not too tight, but tight enough to show the hard lines of my body. Olivia knew it, too.

She looks behind the lord’s head, then her face brightens. “Oh! They have truffles here Percy!” Percy, that’s right. That’s my name this time. “I’ll be right back.” She gives Lord George a smile. “Nice to meet you and happy birthday.”

“Thank you very much, Ms…?”

“Ms. Penny.”

“Well, nice meeting you.”

“Treat my brother well, will you? As the quiet type, he is, he’ll keep you waiting for an answer until you’re dead!” Olivia laughs, a dainty gloved hand covering her mouth politely, then she strides away in her burgundy gown. Elegant as always.

“So. Percy?”

I nod. “Percy Hallow, sir.” I give him my hand and he shakes it, hand holding on longer than one would normally do. I stroke the inside of his wrist with my fingers before letting go. He bites his lip. “Lovely party you have here.”

“Well, yes, thank you. My wife organized it. Not that it matters, of course.”

“No, I don’t think it does.”

The lord grins, then he shakes his head, eyes widening. “But—but in the case it will.”

“What do you—“

“My lord! Who is this man?”

I turn to see a man next to me.

A man. No, an angel.

His body is lean, almost as tall as I am. His blond, almost white hair, is tied tightly against the back of his neck, the rest resting on his back. Even though I’m not close, I can see the thickness of bounty of his translucent eyelashes. I can see the way they brush his pale cheeks, the way his thin lips part as he turns to me. I almost cry at the face he’s bestowing me.

**Hatred.**

What did I do wrong to have an angel find fault in me.

“My lord,” he says, completely ignoring me, “We need to talk.”

Lord George opens his mouth, but then there’s a shot.

_Snap!_

Then there’s a scream.

Plan B it is. Whoever this angel is, Olivia finds him dangerous.

There’s not many people Olivia’s afraid of.

The angel flips around and points at me. I notice he’s wearing the most ragged clothes I’ve ever seen on a man. Olivia, under better circumstances, would fuss over his attire.

“You—you under arrest by the Bureau of Magickal Investigation and Murder. You have the right to remain silent, but you must hand over your wand.”

Well, no reason to pretend anymore. Lord Geroge starts to back away, but Olivia’s right behind him. The lord flinches at something. All eyes are on us. The guests, the servants.

How are we ever going to get out of this one?

“That’s where you’re wrong, angel,” the man gives me a curious look before going back to his original expression, “I’m not a magicker at all.”

Then I bite my finger and blood drips onto the ground.

———

They disappear.

With the lord.

They’re just…gone.

“Well, shit.”

I’m gonna lose my job, aren’t I?

“And did he just call me an “**_angel_**”?!”

***

A random thing I thought of while daydreaming and listening to music. Thanks for reading and have a great day! ❤️