"This job's easy." Elvis hoarsely chuckled. He took the poison from his shelf of murder weapons. He grinned to himself as he began to put it in his bag.

Quickly, he scurried off into the night, reminding himself of the job. Kill Jason. Kill Jason.. He repeated the mantra in his head. He made his way down to your place, just walking the short distance.

He snuck in through the luminescent gates, now seeing the aftermath of the party. The half, finished wine glasses left on the table, the smell of the greenery mixed with the sight of the people's sleeping bodies was welcoming, but made his job a little harder.

He tugged on his red robes, making sure that he had carefully moved away from the sleeping people. He stepped over them, now just making sure he doesn't hit their face with his foot or accidentally tug on their hair. He came to a hault, sighing as he did.

He looked up. In the middle of it, his eyes eagerly spotted a silky white robe. He frowned, wondering who it belonged to. Who could possess such a beautiful, unforgettable robe? The Southern assassin wondered to himself.

He let his eyes wonder up. He couldn't help his curiosity, with each wondering gaze, he took an step. Each step was full of desire and shock; shock because of the pure white, yet a burning desire to find out who it was that piqued his interest.

His eyes eagerly followed up the silk, freezing at the sight of your legs. They were so perfect, so..lovely. He couldn't help but want to hold them. He slowly looked up at your waist, up to your chest where it stayed for a little while, but it finally landed on your face. Your sleeping, beautiful face. He could feel himself slip into a trance. He couldn't do anything but stare.