#toddthesmuggler

[greysonbytrade]

your favorite item of fake documentation that you've made for someone

His favorite is, of course, what he made for Virginia. She'd been his friend for a rather long time, giving her an identity was all the more pleasureful. Plus, her fake name was all the more fun to write. 

"Fake flower shop sign for April fools, more than likely."

[ashley-statham-blog]

Waltz || Ash and Todd

Ashley always thought of that first meeting with a new potential client as a bit of a dance, a waltz in particular. Sharp eyes and cautious minds explored each other, tried to feel out what sort of uses could be gleaned while also trying to keep their vulnerabilities under check. You couldn't really trust anyone in this line of work, because those suited for crime always had the same mindset. You take what you can get until it's no longer useful, and then you get rid of it. If you have to choose between yourself or another you throw that other person to the wolves without a second thought.

The blonde never bothered to wonder how people got her number. It was circulated through the right people, criminals gossiped with as much fervent dedication as housewives after all. Ash didn't answer the phone for new numbers. They were to leave a message at the prompting of the computerized voice, and then she would text them the address of a public but private place to meet her at. Of course she'd recognized Todd's voice, and for a moment she'd considered ignoring him. The blonde had no interest in working with someone who talked so much, the last thing she needed was her name being blasted out into the airwaves.

But curiosity had gotten the better of her, so now she stood, eyes surveying the small restaurant she'd instructed him to meet her at. When her blue gaze found him, she approached the table with a casual grace, seating herself and giving him a broad smile. "Mr. Mccullough," she purred, "How delightful to see you again. Now before you say anything, let me cut to the chase so you don't waste any words." Her hands moved to smooth out the tablecloth as she spoke. "I don't care about money. You could pay me ten pounds and I wouldn't really give a fuck. I take jobs based on whether or not they intrigue and challenge me. So just keep that in mind while you're dictating your needs. You aren't selling me on your bank account, you're selling me on whether or not the work itself will be interesting."