Owner	Pose
Lex Luthor	"Willa, please send Mercy in when you have a moment."     The man's voice was steady and smooth, a liquid ease to his manner as he walked around the corner of his desk. Black suit? Immaculate. Shoes? Shined as if ebony. Hands? Perfectly manicured. Then a glance into the mirror.     That smile. That damn smile.     But enough self-serving reflection. The true man of tomorrow stepped toward the bank of three windows that looked out across Metropolis, eyes half-lidded and his expression somber. Reflective. A deep breath was taken. Held, then he turned slowly as he exhaled slowly.     There was much to do. And so few souls worth a damn and none worthy of trust. Save perhaps...
Mercy Graves	Mercy. She stepped into the door mere moments later. She'd been downstairs, discussing security measures with the team for an upcoming appearance at a charity event. Everything had to be perfect. There was nothing else acceptable. When she received the word, she moved to the elevator that would carry her up several stories to the main level that Lex used for his office. A light knock on the door, just so he knew she was entering. She didn't await his permission to do so. Had he not summoned her? Such respect would be given. If she knocked then waited, she would be wasting his time when he wanted her in the office. "Good afternoon, Mr. Luthor. How may I be of service?" She was dressed in a black skirt suit with sensible shoes, no heels. The skirt had a slit allowing for ease of movement. Not her chauffeur's uniform today as Theo was on driving duties today.
Lex Luthor	"Mercy," The single word hung there for a time.     He turned and leveled his gaze at his bodyguard assistant as his eyes narrowed for a moment. It was one of those looks the man would give, gauging, weighing. Measuring the person before him. Normally someone else would see the fake smile, the thin twist of lips that offered the facial expression meant to give the person before him some measure of ease. Mercy did not need that.     She knew her place at his side, well-earned, well-rewarded.     A few steps carried him back to the desk where he tilted his head slightly, "There is a paper on my desk. It has twelve words on it. Discern them, then set about it. I will inquire again in six days time." No hesitation, no checking of a clock, no minute gestures. He affects none of the customs used by mankind that so often shade intent or hide focus.     Those things are meant for the world beyond.     Lifting his chin slightly he says, "Have you recovered from your efforts of last week?"
Mercy Graves	It was so strange. To the outside world, they were very different people. He the businessman with the heart of gold who helped charities and cared about the world. Her the loyal chauffeur and body guard who kept a neutral expression at almost all times. Yet, she knew Lex. As he knew her. While others would see what they presented, each of them could read their truth. In public particularly, despite the masks they used. She had walked to the desk as instructed, picking up the paper and scanning it quickly. Already starting to plan in her head for how to achieve the new goal. But when he asked about her recovery? Annoyance. It was there for the briefest of seconds in her eyes. Not at him. Never at him. He knew she was annoyed with herself that she needed to recover at all. That she had allowed herself into those circumstances. "I am well. It will not interfere with my duties." As it had not. She had been to work every day and not once had she complained. "It was only a hairline fracture in the rib." She would just get taped up each morning and go about her business.
Lex Luthor	Another deep breath taken, then exhaled slowly.     The tall grim-faced man gave a nod and then said, "Schedule three more sessions with our friend once you feel you are recovered sufficiently. I need you to be perfect, Mercy." He turns away and walks back toward the window, his back to her as he looks at the woman's profile in the reflection. His eyes tighten.     "Our margin for error is more narrow now than it has ever been."     He lifts a hand then touching a thumb to the side of his chin, then fore and index finger to his cheekbone as he looks distantly across the city. Some inner monologue unuttered. Perhaps twenty seconds she is left there to wait. To watch.     Then he adds, "Tell Willa to send in the next person."
Mercy Graves	He might as well have beat her with a baseball bat. Mercy gave a terse nod as he mentioned the need for her to be perfect. She took that failure personally. It was her fault she had allowed that strike to land. Her fault she was injured. And having Lex recognize it? Point it out? Gut punch. "Yes, sir." Then she waited. Not rushing. Not interrupting. He was thinking. There had been times she had stood for far longer awaiting him to speak. When she had been new in his employ, she had interrupted. It only took once to learn better. As he finally dismissed her, she felt a hint of disappointment. She'd hoped for...what? She didn't even know. She folded the paper and slid it into the pocket of her jacket. "Yes, Mr. Luthor." Just as quickly as she was summoned, she had been dismissed. She slipped out the door and turned to give Willa the instruction before striding off toward her own office to begin preparations. She only had six days. She would not fail.