I can give you a day. And if you can make it somewhere out of country, I will do filthy things to you. Absolutely filthy. I've been alive for three hundred years.
Well you certainly know how to motivate a gal to work quicker. I have a couple decades myself I'll reward you with after I let you have your way with me.
Lake Como, first class tickets. Meet me on the runway at JFK tonight.
When you're out of trouble, unless you want a local to keep you company.
[ Val wastes no time call up preperations for her private jet, stuffing her suitcase full enough with things for a week. A driver takes her to the airport, leaving her at a side entrace. Heels clanking along the pavement, she makes her way to the stairwell of the plane. Someone grabs for her bags, she brushes the shoulder of an attendant. ]
A guest will be joining us shortly, be a dear and pour two glasses of champagne.
( there's a myriad of good things about being as powerful a witch as she is. one that's close to the top of the list? the ability to go from one place to another without setting food on public transportation.
no way is she sitting next to a drooling, screaming child or a man that wants to chat her up, ogling her tits and thinking he has some sort of shot. ew.
so, she appears in a flourish of purple smoke and attitude, tugging her jacket tighter and glancing around. )
[ Money means never having to rely on the public, unless she wants to get somewhere unconventially or in a less showy fashion. The jet is small enough no one will really question it, and it belongs to a friend so those weirdos on the internet who love tracking public figures won't clock who's on it.
When Agatha appears in the cloud of purple, Val jolts, then offers the seat across from her once she's at the top of the stairs, moving towards her own seat. ]
Next time I'll ask for the red carpet. Here's a welcome drink.
[ Val gestures once more and the attendant offers a glass to Agatha, comeplete with a little dish of peanuts. ]
It'll only be about eight hours. Movie? Magazine? Blanket?
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I know things.
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Lake Como, first class tickets. Meet me on the runway at JFK tonight.
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I'll be there. You'll have to tell me when you want your reward too.
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[ Val wastes no time call up preperations for her private jet, stuffing her suitcase full enough with things for a week.
A driver takes her to the airport, leaving her at a side entrace. Heels clanking along the pavement, she makes her way to the stairwell of the plane.
Someone grabs for her bags, she brushes the shoulder of an attendant. ]
A guest will be joining us shortly, be a dear and pour two glasses of champagne.
no subject
no way is she sitting next to a drooling, screaming child or a man that wants to chat her up, ogling her tits and thinking he has some sort of shot. ew.
so, she appears in a flourish of purple smoke and attitude, tugging her jacket tighter and glancing around. )
No rolling out the welcome mat?
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When Agatha appears in the cloud of purple, Val jolts, then offers the seat across from her once she's at the top of the stairs, moving towards her own seat. ]
Next time I'll ask for the red carpet. Here's a welcome drink.
[ Val gestures once more and the attendant offers a glass to Agatha, comeplete with a little dish of peanuts. ]
It'll only be about eight hours. Movie? Magazine? Blanket?
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( but later, she's sure she'll ask for some form of entertainment that she can appropriately judge and make fun of to pass the time.
the drink is good enough for her at the moment. she sips it, enjoying the way it warms her before she sits back and looks around. )
Did you just have this old thing laying around? Didn't want to take the car so let me pull the jet out instead?