"I'm starting to. You kind of wear your heart on your sleeve." Lyudmila smirks, turning. "Da, tovarisch." The phone goes off not long after that - Mama's voice is terse and to the point as she explains that Olena and Lyudmila will be infiltrating the West via the tunnels underneath Berlin. She tells Lyudmila a car will be arriving to take them to the station in an hour. Olena figures she should probably just while the hour away with chit chat, but if she's lucky maybe she could talk her new companion into a quickie?"
Witch comes to the railing. "Hmm... The green one looks like scopolamine." She says. Alistair knows it pretty well - agencies across the world have long sought a 'truth serum', but scopolamine is about as far as they've gotten. It can't force someone to tell the truth, but it lowers inhibitions and induces suggestibility. "Don't know the other, though." The blonde shakes her head. It's okay - Alistair knows it well. Red Lace, a powerful aphrodisiac used both recreationally, and for torture. Low doses increase sensitivity and make sex more pleasurable. High doses, however, increase the pleasure to unbearable levels. When watching interrogations where the subject's health wasn't a priority, he's even seen high doses induce orgasms just from a single light touch. Opening the folder, he sees the text is written in code - not a hard one, though. Shouldn't take him long to decipher it, he just needs maybe an hour and some quiet.
Olena had stripped down out of a desire for casual comfort - after all, Lyudmila had allowed her into the room with barely a stitch of clothing on her. She was wearing a provocative set of lacey red in the same shade as her hair, and when she turned away from her companion, her panties did little to hide her voluminous derriere. As Lyudmila relays the information given by Mama, Olena turns at the waist, eyes hooded and a hand on her hip, accentuating her rear while silhouetting her figure against the light filtering through the window blinds. "You know... We ought to get to know each other more..." Her weigh shifted onto one leg, emphasizing one hip... "To make sure the mission goes well, we should know how the other ticks." Her weight shifts, her other hip now poking out. "For the mission, of course!"
Alistair took a look at the vials. Oh, he was going to use it. But which should he use on whom? As he wondered about that, the Witch put a folder on his lap. He started looking through it, then glanced at the prisoners. Well, he might give them some more time to consider their situation. He consider dosing both of them with drugs... But he would keep them for later. It would be fun play~ He gagged both of prisoners, then went to decipher the folder.
"Those suit you." Lyudmila utters as Olena bares herself - though frustratingly her tone is so neutral that Olena can't quite judge whether it's just fashion appreciation or appreciation for he body underneath the lingerie. Her laugh is warm and loud, more of a cackle, as Olena makes her suggestion. "You're a subtle one, aren't you? Huh, alright, then. Let me know all about...Olena's your real name, right?" She invites.
Olena turned to face Lyudmila as she indulged the redhead, a broad grin on her face that made the swing of her hips as she approached, hands still on her hips, seem like a joke than an actual come-on. Of course, the Vixen had been a good girl all day, so she deserved a bit of a reward. As she drew near to the brunette, she would crawl onto the bed on her hands and knees, eyes just a bit narrowed to add the slightest hint of danger and heat. "Yes," she answered simply, before she brought her head level with Lyudmila's chest. With a light push, she would place her hands on the thief's shoulders and bring her down onto her back, before Olena would straddle the hapless woman. "What do you want to know?" She asked, her tone deceptively neutral as she grabbed Lyudmila's hands and brought them to her hips. The gesture gave her words the impression that she was giving her the choice to touch or strip her as she saw fit.
Benson and Maria protest but can't fight back as he gags their mouths, their complaints muffled by the thick fabric. Moving a nearby chair into the corner, Witch keeps watch on the CIA spooks and the door at the same time, showing her tradecraft. With their charges secure, Alistair has the quiet he needs to bring the folder to Benson's desk, utilising a fairly standard espionage cypher to crack the code and discover the secrets within. Deciphering the letters, he transcribes them onto a piece of paper, writing out reports lodged by Benson. Except they don't seem like official reports, and closer to rambling. Filtering out those that don't seem relevant, he focuses on a few key reports. February 10 - My man in Maribel's organisation managed to slip me photos of a ledger the other day. The little bitch's organisation is making hundreds of thousands - in a few years, maybe even millions. That's a lot of cash for a slip of a girl like that. I'm the ranking officer here in this country. You think she'd give her superior a bone, but she says she doesn't have to, since she's not part of my command structure. Slut even said she had 'connections' at Langley. How dare she threaten me? February 15 - Donaldson's boys hit one of Maribel's cash transports last night. I'm gonna make it rain tonight, baby. Maria might be a frigid bitch, and Marisol might think she's too good for me, but ol' Benson's gonna have some fun. Marisol's pissed, but she can't prove anything. Donaldson is a professional, old school type of guy. He made sure there were no witnesses. Donaldson? Alistair thinks to himself - he knew a merc named Donaldson during the war, running an outfit not unlike the Canaries. A sociopath, but good at his job, doing assassinations and robberies for hire. March 12 - Damn it, I can't figure out what Marisol's doing with her money. Donaldson got a few shipments of cash, but now it seems like Marisol's gotten someone to handle her financials for her and keep hold of her money. Have to find out who this 'banker' is and beat the location of the money out of them. They can't be a local - I'd know them. May 16 - Got word that Maribel's trying to smuggle something out of the country besides powder. Something she shouldn't be. If I can just get my hands on it and find out what it is, I can seize the whole operation. I'll send Donaldson's boys to grab Maribel and bring her here for a nice 'chat', along with whatever it is she's moving. My contacts tell me she's doing it out of that crazy Brit's airfield. Donaldson and his boys will make the snatch for me - just have to remember to pay 'em extra not to rape Marisol. That bitch is mine. The 'crazy Brit' must be Nadine - the former flyer of the Canaries back during the war. May 17 - What the fuck is going on? I got to the site a couple hours after Donaldson's boys dropped contact. They're fucking dead, and Donaldson isn't responding! Marisol's gone, along with whatever she was transporting, but the plane was still there on the runway. Without Donaldson, I have no muscle down here. Need to make new contacts. And figure out what the fuck is happening. Did Marisol kill those guys and go into hiding? Did she get snatched by her own people, or maybe some of the other smugglers in the area? Crap, no use speculating. Need to remind Maria not to bring any guys in off the street. Bad enough she won't put out for me, but she's risking a security breach by fucking in here, and I'm worried someone could target us next.
Lyudmila's eyes glint softly as she gazes up at the spy, letting the Vixen climb atop her and pin her down with a minimum of fuss. Her fingers squeeze the soft flesh of Olena's hips. All of a sudden, she bucks upwards as she turns, bringing Olena's back crashing down onto the sheets as Lyudmila darts atop her, thick thighs squeezing the Vixen's waist and keeping her pinned down. She lowers her head, fine strands of her brunette locks hanging low and tickling Olena's face. The redhead can feel the other woman's breath hot against her lips, the other woman's eyes burning with amusement. "I want to know... Your weak point." She all but purrs, her hand reaching out to cup Olena's cheek, before her nails lightly scritch against the Ukrainian's neck, and travel further Southward. "How to turn you into a quivering...little...wreck..." She smirks deviously as her fingers trail along Olena's cleavage.
Olena had only one thought as Lyudmila turned the tables on her. "Uh oh." A gasp escaped her as nails trailed down the side of her throat, unstifled by the two front teeth nipping down on her lower lip. After all the excitement of the day and her natural... Proclivities, the Vixen was powerless to escape the thief's trap, panting in tune with each deliberately enunciated word. She shivered as she felt the brunette's fingertips run down erogenous regions of her throat, followed by the curve of her breasts, running along the bulging flesh clung tightly to by the red lacey brassiere. The Amazonian Ukrainian could have certainly regained the initiative with her training and experience in close combat... But why would she when her back arched so naturally at the slightest touch of her chest? Rather than leverage the light grip she had on Lyudmila's elbows, Olena simply held on, allowing her new friend to explore her body to her heart's content. "Eheh, w- well, where's the fun in telling?" Olena teased, but the usual masterfully impish tone was undercut by her breathless stuttering. She managed to look composed, at least, her eyes still hooded with heated desire... Or maybe it was just thoughtless desire after all, who could say.
