He looked in the mirror repeating to himself the fake name he's been using for the past month or so, "Ethan Shawl.....Ethan Shawl..." trying to drill it in his head before he goes out.

His hands braced against the bathroom vanity are sweaty though. He hates this feeling, like a twisting weight in his stomach. No...a snake in his stomach. The kind of snake he's been for the past fifteen years without issue.

Years of his life spent working the con. From swindler carnie up to his current game of investment scams. Half his life working marks and making money to vanish with again and again. But this time is different and he hates it.

He splashes his face with water, trying to get her face out of his head. Tonight is suppose to be the night and he'll never need to speak to her again. Its all paying off. A big check from the pretty heiress and then he's in the wind.

So why does that thought make the feeling in his stomach worse? God, is he really such an amateur that he caught feelings for a mark?!

Shaking his head hard to try to clear it he pushes back his dark hair to smooth it back. A deep breath to try, and fail, to steady his nerves. Just get through tonight's meeting and he can sort this shit out later.

Hard, fast steps carrying him out of the luxurious penthouse that his lease is almost up for to the luxury car he's been renting to make leaving again easier.

Just get through the night and it'll all be alright.