a long night spent with your most obvious weakness
[Sighing as she brushes a few stray strands of black hair from her eyes, Ella finishes buttoning up her white blouse, rolling the sleeves back down once she does. Glancing back at the man sleeping in the bed, she makes sure that her slacks are adequately fastened before starting for the door. Xander has her bag, and she knows that she has more than enough time to get the bag back from him and prepare for work at the club that night.
For just a moment, Ella pauses at the door, her hand resting on the knob; turning her head, she watches the man as he snores, images of the myriad of ways she could murder him while he still sleeps flitting through her mind.
She could throttle him.
She could slit his throat with the letter opener still sitting on his desk.
She could smother him with the pillow that is currently propping up his thick head.
She's physically strong enough, and nameless, faceless - she could finish the deed and escape into the darkness of the night. No one would ever be the wiser; not the man's wife or children, not the police. Ella herself would never feel the sting of remorse, she's sure.
Yet, instead, she brushes these thoughts away with a small shake of her head, unwilling to put forth the effort she's sure it would take. Knowing her luck, she would break a nail or hurt her delicate hands, or something else unsavory and ill-advised.
Twisting the knob, she exits the one-room apartment, prepared for the mist of the street outside - but walks out into a hallway instead, one almost as vast and dim as the street itself.]
What is this?
[Ella stops, looking around, spinning when she hears the door behind her click shut.
It's gone now.
Turning back to the remainder of the corridor, Ella's gray eyes narrow.] This is not amusing, nor is it intelligent, I assure you.
[[ooc: AU!femme!L for your tagging pleasure.]]