I fix the earpiece I got from 47 back on the plane so that it fits comfortably in my ear, and I can hear Diana perfectly. My eyes gaze upon my own reflection staring back at me as I sit across from the vanity in the hotel room we checked into. The masquerade ball starts in an hour, so I take my time in getting ready.

My hair is pinned back so I can focus on my makeup; which isn't much, actually, just some black eyeshadow, a little red lipstick, and light blush. Maybe I'll apply some eyeliner, but the majority of my face is going to be hidden by a mask anyway, so there's really no point in going all-out with my makeup. Then again, I believe 47 is planning on using me to lure Michael - one of our targets - off somewhere private so he can kill him. It means I have to look as pretty as I can make myself look.

After applying my makeup, I remove the pins from my hair so I can brush out the thick, tangled curls. I hum a soft lullaby to myself - one that my mom used to sing to me when I was a child, actually - while I watch my reflection brush out its own hair. When I finish and set the brush aside, my hair falls down way past my shoulders and, for once, the curls are tame and don't make me look nappy like they usually do.

My eyes gaze back at me when I once again look at my own reflection. The dark circles normally around my eyes aren't visible at the moment, which is the only thing I thank makeup for. No one will actually know how tired I am.

I get up out of the chair and head away from the vanity to where my dress is lying on the bed. It's black, with diamonds on the area around my bust and flares out around the skirt part, which makes it a lot easier for me to move around in. It also matches the black-and-diamond-sparkled panther mask I received earlier when we checked in. How lucky are we for the hotel's ballroom to be hosting that same masquerade our targets are to be?

I slip the bathrobe down and off my shoulders, which I then place on the bed instead of the floor. I fix the strapless bra I've got on so that it's more comfortable and not digging into my sides. Afterwards, I pick up the dress, slowly sliding my legs into the fabric. I pull it all the way up and make sure everything is even and not messed up anywhere before I go to zip it up.

I suddenly get the intense feeling that someone has been watching me the whole time, so I turn my head and look at him over my shoulder. There 47 stands in the doorway. How I hadn't noticed him before now is beyond me. It makes me blush a little to myself when I realize that he saw me in my underwear. Stop being so damn embarrassed! I hiss inwardly.

"You wouldn't mind helping me with this, would you?" I ask him, turning my back to show him the zipper that's on the back of my dress.

He approaches me slowly, then works at zipping me up, which feels a lot longer than it should have, I'll admit. I keep my hair held up with my hands so it doesn't get caught in said zipper. When he finishes, I turn around to thank him, but I come a little too close to his chest. Truthfully, I never noticed the height difference before, and that's that I stand at five-foot-eight on flat feet. And, if I'm being honest with myself, the dark wolf mask - which, by the way, goes perfectly with his tuxedo - really does suit him.

"Is something wrong?" He asks me after there's a long pause and he notices that I've been zoned out for the last minute or two.

"What?" I finally manage to ask him after snapping out of my own daydream. Why can't I just act normal around this man for more than two seconds? "No, nothing's wrong." I tell him, flashing a smile before I turn to sit on the bed and slip on my stilettos. After I slip the heels on, I put on the mask, fixing it to make sure that it doesn't smear my makeup.

47's P.O.V.

I can't help but watch this woman as she moves about the room, her hips swaying with each step she takes. Her cheeks are flushed deep crimson, and as much as she tries to hide it, I can tell that it's not from her makeup.

I'd heard from Diana that she was a tough woman; one who usually never shows emotion. She's heartless, unremorseful, and has no feelings whatsoever. Yet, she acts different around me. I don't know what it is, but I can tell it's affecting her.

When she fell asleep in the car on the way to our flight, I could hear her mumble my name in her sleep. My name was followed by a soft whimper and she curled her body into a tight ball. It hadn't ceased, either, when we boarded the plane. She even sounded like she was enjoying herself while she slept.

Now, she couldn't even bring herself to look at me for very long, and every time I'd look into her eyes, she'd find a reason to look away. She seemed harder-sterner-when I first met her, and she could actually look at me. Whenever I'm near her, though, she blushes, becomes flustered, and starts tripping over her own words.

I know what Diana told me about relations with another agent, but there's something about this woman. . . .something that I can't quite put my finger on. 

Anastasia's P.O.V.

"How are we doing on time?" I ask him, my hands running through the soft layers of the gentle ruffles on my dress as I straighten out the fabric.

He looks at the watch on his wrist, "Ten minutes until it starts." He says.

"Well, that's not too bad." I get up off the bed and stretch myself out, my back popping itself in the process. "We should head there now, then. Wouldn't want to be late to something like this, right?" I flash him another smile, and I swear I can see him smiling back. I'm probably hallucinating, but I have my hopes.

"Right." He says, and exits the room with me following behind him. When we step out of our room and into the hall, he offers me a hand after closing and locking the door.

"How very gentlemanly of you." I wink at him before taking his hand into mine. He intertwines our arms together and then leads us down the hallway to where the ballroom is clear on the other side.

As we approach a rather large group of people huddled together and mingling, I can't help it when my grip on him tightens. My heartbeat picks up pace as well as my breathing. I think he's noticed that I'm starting to have a minor panic attack, because his arm tightens around mine as well and he quickly leads me through the crowd of people. I sigh and mentally thank the fact that I didn't start freaking out my first day on the job.

We reach the doors to the ballroom, and a woman wearing a mouse mask stands at the open doors. She smiles at us and tells us to have a wonderful time before letting us go through. Getting in was a lot easier than I thought it would be.

It wasn't as packed at the moment, so we find a table for ourselves relatively easy. I assume that the targets won't attend until later on - when the party has officially began. When they show us their faces, however, that's when the fun begins.