Ilea made a small pit stop home to change out of her suit and pick up her usual supplies, and then she was off. Luca lived not too far away from away from her (company housing after all), but even if he had, she'd have gone three sectors out of her way to change. She took few luxuries; this was one of them. She hated the suit, it was too constricting. She couldn't move right in the pants, the jacket was a little too stiff in the shoulders and she'd kill herself before she got anything on that button-up shirt, and if she'd had to wear the suit on her jobs she wouldn't even have lasted the first assignment. Blood was a tough stain to wash out of white. So was dirt, dust, or any other sort of grime she had to get herself in half the time. She liked black much better, something light, something tight, something just one layer so she didn't have to worry about any excess fabric.
There was a little wire round around her belt, a thin metal cable of five twisted fibers that she wrapped around a protrusion from the edge of the roof. Ilea had little trouble rappelling down the few feet to Luca's top floor windows. She checked the back first (the front would have been suicide, anybody on the street could've seen her) but it was quiet in the back and if she was quick, she wouldn't be seen. Luca's dark curtains were thrown open to the early morning sun. Ilea swung her legs up and wrapped them around her cable, hanging upside down and lowering herself slowly until just the top part of her head was in view of the upper edge of Luca's bedroom window.
She almost let go and fell. It was just supposed to be a peek, cursory visual reconnaissance. But she just hung there, her mouth open in shock. To her credit, she hadn't made a sound. After a few moments of stunned silence Ilea pulled herself back up to the roof, snapped her cord back into her belt, and stood there for a moment wondering what she should do. She'd told Drake she'd call him as soon as she found Luca, but this was too good of a chance to pass up. She'd call him later, after she was in. Besides, she was still digesting the three things she'd seen.
One--Luca in bed with another man. That was definitely a man. Whether or not Luca had been aware of that fact at the time he'd brought him home was irrelevant. Luca was in bed with and had one of his legs twined around a man. That brought her to Number Two, which was that Luca's boxers (or what she could see with his pants gathered about his knees) had most definitely had ducks on them. Duckies, even. The fluffy yellow kind with the big eyes. Looked like somebody had got them in the kids section of the mall, except they were definitely Luca-sized. She wondered what other kinds of feathery or furry friends he had hiding in his underwear drawer. The Number Three that Ilea noticed was the bruise on Luca's head. That was no ordinary bruise, somebody had hit him hard with something blunt. Or he could've just had really rough sex. That other guy in his bed looked like he could've put up quite a fight if he'd wanted to.
Ilea let a look of disgust cross her face (since nobody was looking) at the fact that she'd just thought about Luca Manwhore Whitney doing one of his favorite pastimes. She'd originally thought of him as the straightest man on the planet, but perhaps desperate times called for desperate measures. Or he'd just been covering up all along. She smirked, another rare emotion to cross her face. Luca Whitney was never going to live this one down. This was payback on the order of blackmail material.
Ilea went back into the building, padding silent as a shadow down the stairs and to the top roof of the floor. She stood in front of the door, tarnished silver letters reading 518. Reached into her belt and pulled out her picks, but found that she didn't need them. None of Luca's four locks were at all in use. She put her picks back, drew her gun (a precaution she always took) and opened the door. It swung open silently. She hid behind the wall, satisfied that no sound came from within the apartment. Didn't seem that either Luca or his mysterious man lover were yet awake. Ilea padded inside softly, threading her way through the living room, by the couch and to the bedroom door, which was wide open.
She made it as far as the doorframe when the other man woke up, bringing his arm from where it rested beneath his pillow, one smooth arc of black, the barrel pointed right at her. Or where she had been a moment ago. Ilea rolled out of the way, firing a shot as she came up, already halfway inside the room and at the foot of Luca's side of the bed. It was a warning shot, right over the other man's shoulder, close enough that he would feel the bullet pass before it lodged itself in the wall. She stood and pointed her gun back to Luca's secret boytoy. She didn't want to kill him if she could help it, that had definitely not been in her orders. But she'd had to do unauthorized kills before, and if circumstances demanded it, she would. She still wouldn't like it, and probably neither would Luca. Bad for inhouse relations, see. Especially if it was someone who was just obviously a little jumpy in the mornings. And very groggy too from the way his eyes didn't seem to be able to focus clearly on her.
Slum trash. If Luca were to ever pick up a man, it would be from the slums.
If Drake's phone call hadn't woken him up, the sound of that bullet being fired definitely would have.
"Good morning, sunshine," Ilea said softly, pulling out a second gun with her other hand. "I am going to enjoy writing up this report, Whitney."