Circe was tired and pissed. Oh, she was familiar with the weapon in question and yes she was making money but not nearly enough to excuse the work she was doing!

Especially with the supremely scary mortal man in black, SMIB for short, coming in with these last minute requests. Sure the Larcenist took pride in her work, self-deprecating humor aside she was both a Fairest and awesome. But Circe preferred to drink coffee for pleasure, not necessity. It took the joy out of it.


A rush job of 9 hours non-stop working was not fun for the gunbunny smurfette. Nor was this the first one from SMIB. Usually he provided the parts but this time Circe had only got some parts and had to rush to find and modify the rest. 9 hours of mechanical work, plus extra.


And did the request come in at the start of the day? Oh no, the message to come and get the stuff came at night.


Which was why the morning meeting found the Larcenist was barely in her suit, body armor visible from the partially on dress shirt and a unsecured tie. The basement for the meeting was also hot, though part of that was the Summer Queen's mantle on full blast due to a combination of exhaustion and being pissed off. Circe was nursing a large coffee thermos as SMIB entered. No, not a thermos mug but an actual travel thermos.


That got SMIB to break his stoicism for a look of surprise. Well good.


"Okay," sips the coffee, "I don't know who yer used ta dealing with but scary or not, anymore rush jobs like this ain't happening."


The only response was a slightly raised eyebrow.


"You are NOT paying me enough ta be yer exclusive gunsmith. I have multiple clients and need sleep. Unless ya start paying with riot gear and assault rifles," that made him confused so hooray for Circe making it awkward for SMIB, "Yer not getting rush jobs like this from me more then bi-annually! At best!"


Silence as SMIB continues to not talk. Circe drinks her coffee and glares, quite angry and very Summer in her glare. Oh, and the mortal breaks eye contact first with a resigned nod. Good. Still not talking, SMIB waves to the weapon he'd requested.


"Yeah, yeah, so long as you understand. Yer Soviet carbine," she points lazily at the SKS Carbine in the open case, "Has the scope and stock ya gave. Mechanism and barrel modified, it is bolt action now, got parts from a KAR-98 so it works like that fer pushing the bullet out. With my vented suppressor and that other stuff ya gave fer the stock and barrel casing, it should be very damn quiet," Circe mumbles in Italian about needing sleep.


Circe sighs, "Barrel is custom built, reversed previous process so it's gonna be weird ballistics on it," she sips her coffee, "Bipod is standard surplus. Its ta yer specs and beyond. So take it and don't ask me fer this rushed shit fer another cazzo year." The next words are literally roared by the Summer Queen, "I. Need. Ta. Sleep! I will get a rocket launcher ta enforce that."


SMIB's shoulders whince as he nods, posture apologetic. He retrieves the case and leaves the gold bars again. Nothing extra, the agreed upon remained that she must split with Leon.


Circe chugs the coffee down, shoves the gold into the thermos, rips of her suit's tie to shove it in to dampen the rattling. The Summer storms out, heading for her home and bed.