There was a part of Charre that wished that she had had the privilege of walking through a night in which she could listen to the song of crickets, real ones, not the ones that she heard coming out of speakers when she watched old movies. There was also parts of her mind that wondered if that fellow that was walking through her father's office earlier wore boxers or briefs, and also parts of her mind that were exploring the finer points of rose tea. Then, of course, there was also the part of her mind that was focused on the job at hand but that part of her mind was quite minimal at the moment. She hadn't spotted her target just yet and she saw no reason whatsoever to bother with thoughts about him until she really had to.

Charre casually strode past a fellow curfew breaker and paid them very little mind. In fact she actually gave the nervous man a small wave. He wasn't really her concern that night, after all. She had bigger fish to fry so to speak, and besides, when it wasn't her purpose to be intimidating people off of the streets at night she saw no harm in letting them be, really. If she were in their shoes she would likely be breaking curfew as well. It would have been awfully hypocritical of her to go about the place bothering them when she wasn't being paid for it specifically, now wouldn't it? Certainly it would, she answered herself and continued down the street.

As usual, Charre was dressed in ordinary street clothing. She actually looked generally like a regular citizen just out breaking curfew... like you do. That was a talent of Charre's. Her presence in places was very difficult to hide due to her nature, however her ability to look as if she belonged made that not really matter in the end. Perhaps it was her inviting and casual manner, but people seemed very prone to trusting Charre. This was stupid on their part in many cases, but it served her quite well. That wasn't to say that Charre wasn't a trustworthy girl, for she really was. She was quite the loyal girl when it came down to her real friends, but friends that she made on the job were marks and always would be marks, however well she convinced them differently.

Ah! There he was. Her target! There he was, reclining on a step, casually having himself a fag. How rude of her to interrupt a fellow's smoke break. On any other night she may have stepped back and waited for a bit for the fellow to finish the last cigarette he would ever have, but on this night she was in a small bit of a hurry. She had a friend who was in need of being forced to have a little fun and she really did need to get to it in a timely manner before he could insist that he would prefer to go to bed.

Casually as always Charre strode up to the man and leaned down a little, probably exposing her cleavage a bit, she did like to show it off. It was quite nice, after all, and there was no reason for people not to admire it! Even if that someone was about to draw his last breath.
"Well then!" she began cheerfully. "It would appear that someone is out after their bed time, hm? Hurry along, then."

The man looked up at her in the manner that one would look at someone who'd just grown a second head then gave a sharp laugh and all but told her to sod off. Charre sighed then pouted rather prettily, she thought. "Come now, darling. Are you really going to make me say please?" she asked him, sliding her gun from where it had been hidden before.

The cigarette was immediately put out and the man began rushing off, presumably to go home. Poor dear. He never would see his home again. He may have been a criminal but that didn't really make it any sadder for him that he wouldn't get to sleep in his own bed again. A terrible shame for him regardless of his crimes.

"Oh! Wait, darling! You've forgotten something!" she called after him. The man turned around to look at her, appearing a bit confused at her friendliness. "So sorry~" she finished before the pull of her trigger produced a soft crack muffled as best as a silencer could. No use frightening the general public, now was there?

Charre didn't need to check if the man was dead. She not only knew that he was but the clean-up crew would certainly finish him off if he wasn't. He was, though. They always were. Charre never left a target breathing. Oh! Speaking of them. Charre lifted her hand to her ear bud and pressed softly. "Target down, dears. Your turn~" she said pleasantly. "Terribly sorry, this one appears to be leaving quite the pool. At least it isn't cobblestone this time, hm? Do have a good night!"
With that she turned briskly, putting away her gun. Ah! That fellow in her father's office may not have been wearing knickers at all. Perhaps he was the commando type. She pondered this as she walked away from the scene.