Une was caught up in the whirlwind of her thoughts, as she mulled over the so-called priest's words. She stepped out of the elevator and bumped into Blake, the captain who had accused her of espionage.
The tall soldier glared down at Une, his face an angry red. "Major Une," he spat venomously, "the colonel says that you are to accompany him to a dinner tonight."
Without waiting for Une to reply, he stalked down the hall to the stairwell and away from his shame at being used as a message boy, his visage still crimson.
Une watched him, until he was out of sight, and then strolled down the hall to her apartment. She had changed back into her uniform, before the importance of what Blake had told her hit her.
Rushing to Treize's rooms, she burst through the door and spotted him lounging in a straight-backed chair reading a novel. Treize calmly set his book down and took a sip from the wineglass on the table next to him. "Yes, Une?"
"Why do you want me to go with you tonight?" she demanded.
Trieze swirled the red liquid around in the glass. "I need an escort. Also, you'll have to watch out for assassins. We'll be going to a Romefeller function, so wear a ballgown."
Une crossed her arms. "I'm a major in the OZ organization. Ballgowns aren't really a part of the wardrobe."
Trieze rose to his feet and moved to the desk in the corner of the efficient room, sifting through its drawers, until he found what he was looking for. He lifted out a leather wallet and held it out to his bodyguard. "Take this, Lady. Buy your dress."
Une hesitated for a few moments, glancing at the pocketbook and then back to her employer. She quickly snatched the wallet and turned on her heel, walking out of his room.
Une browsed through a small dress shop, searching for a suitable ballgown. The only problem was that since the town was so small, not many people had the need of a gown, so the selection was rather limited. She fingered a blue dress, but found that it was too stiff to possibly be sat in comfortably.
She headed for another row of gowns and rifled through them; a red cocktail dress had just caught her eye, when an arm snaked around her waist, and a hand covered her mouth, muffling her alarmed cry. "I'm glad you still have your excellent reaction time," hissed a voice in her ear. "Don't yell."
The dressmaker in the front of the shop continued to hum to herself, completely unaware of her predicament. The hand over Une's lips left, and she growled, "So you're following me now?"
"Just because you were uncooperative in the church. I have a job for you."
"If it has anything to do with Trieze, I'll-"
"You need not worry," reassured her captor. "I need you to assassinate Duke Dermail. His death will hopefully cause Romefeller's collapse, thus destroying OZ."
Une nodded. "Tonight's dinner. All right, I'll take it, but after this you'll leave me alone."
Her employer chuckled. "Absolutely. Oh, and Une, that green gown would look beautiful on you." The voice and the arm disappeared, yet the order remained crystal clear in her mind.
The assassin bought the recommended dress and prepared herself for the night's occupations- protecting Treize and killing Dermail.