This is Cory. You know how all this works, right? You leave the message, and I'll get back to you when time and work allow

Tah tah for now.

Character Name: Corine 'Cory' Murphy
Official Title: The Forger
Play by: Karen Gillan
Age: 24
Totem: Her mother's ring, the inner inscription has almost faded away, but in her dreams it's as clear as she remembers from her childhood.

Physical Appearance: At 5'11", just her height makes Cory stand out in a crowd, with shoulder lengthred-hair, light brown eyes, and a pretty, round face; she is more likely to be described as "adequately pretty" than "devastatingly gorgeous" or even "beautiful". While generally dressed professionally for work, her large closet contains enough different styles for her to blend in most places. Personally, she prefers a more casual style, t-shirts and jeans with a grown collection of scarves, cardigans and jewelery.

Her slender build hides Cory's actual strength, however given the choice, she prefers to outrun rather than outfight her opponents. All of her fighting skills come from tussles with her older brothers, but she makes up the skill she lacks with brutality and a disregard for any 'rules'. While she prefers knifes, Cory isn't afraid to use a gun when she needs to, and is pretty decent with them as well. All in all, Cory would rather avoid a fight, they tend to leave to much evidence behind.

Personality: Loud and brash, Cory tends to attract attentions of all varieties, mostly due to a sometime problematic tendency to not think before she speaks. Tending to be rather cool, even rude around people she doesn't trust yet, those she's let in would find her to be surprisingly warm and funny. On the job, she's not one to fuck around or tolerate those who do. Her professionalism is what gets her jobs despite her young age.

Cory does have one soft spot, her family. Growing up, loyalty to those she loved was pounded into her head. Once Cory gets close to someone, she will stay loyal to them for years. However she doesn't tolerate betrayal of any kind, cutting ties to anyone who would turn on their friends.

Brief History: Born into a family loosely connected to the Irish mob, Cory can count on one hand all the people in her family who've had legitimate jobs. The rest is a band of thieves, thugs and the occasional murderer. She tried to break from tradition, going as far as to attend two years of college at NYU before dropping out. Still, instead of following in her mother's footsteps as a con-woman, Cory took those skills and became a forger.

Now that she's established herself in the United States, Cory's looking to branch out into the international dream-sharing business.

I thought i saw him today, journal. Down by Tower Bridge, fortunately it wasn't but my hands shook all the way home. One goddamn mistake, and now I've not only got a difficult projection but a new dose of paranoid.

God the whole situation was fucked up, I mean really who does what I did in Maui. Using the name was stupid, let me get to close. It wasn't a cover, it was... so close to who I actually am. Behind everything... and shit I sound like a lovesick teenager. I need to go out on the town with Robbie, get this out of my system.

London was a bad idea, far to close to him... the accent and just the aura of it sometimes.

Note to self: stop drinking when home alone, booze only for when accompanied by Robbie or Eames. Fun drinking, not morose drinking.

I should probably burn the picture shouldn't I...

Oh my god, it was worse than I even thought it would be. Just ugggggggg, so uncomfortable. Not only were Karl and Eames staring daggers at each other, but Delilah was drunk and Robbie, poor Robbie didn't seem to have a fucking clue at what was going on and just sat there trying to play peacemaker with me. Never, ever again, just no.

I'm not sure what Delilah sees in Karl, but she dotes on him. Pratically could see the stars in her eye, it was almost nauseating how in love she is with him. Maybe a bit jealous, journal, been a long time since I had a real relationship. Just lacking time I guess.

So tired right now, need some sleep before heading over to lunch tomorrow. That's just gonna be a ball of giggles I can tell. Must remember to bring something that can get blood on it. Just in case.

Sorry journal mine, but I left you here for your own protection. Wouldn't want Eames to have stolen you away would we?

Speaking of the man... damn journal, just DAYM. He's more than a little addictive once you get a taste and I got a hell of a taste in Cardiff. Really, in the future, we must make sure to get at least separate beds, that last night I almost lost control... No matter, not like I'm all his type, I have a feeling the connection's more on a mental level than a physical.

At least on his end that is. Anyway, I did excellently and got to make-out/grope/heavy pet with Eames.

Sadly London is horribly boring it seems. Eames is in Japan and that lovely woman, Delilah, is still back in the States. And all have left me with little to no entertainment.

Really, lifting wallets can only entertain me so much before it gets repetitive. Almost wanted to give the last one back along with a good lecture on the proper protection of one's personal information. In short, people are incredibly stupid.

But since my life seems to be the great cosmic joke, I met the most lovely, handsome man at my little Sunday coffee shop. Who was gay, AND one of Eames former Marks. Who Eames had fucked.

It was all rather awkward after finding that out, but seems we are still quite good friends luckily. At least good enough to drunk text. (note to self: Stoli = BAD)

I managed to take care of the little monster's birthday present in Cardiff, city is jam-packed with stuff. Got her something nice and shiny and perfect for the little bit. Hopefully it gets to her in time for her birthday.

Seriously, who did I piss off and how do I make it stop?

I mean really, REALLY??????

I thought all this raising from the dead b.s. DIDN'T HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE.


Fuck


I'm gonna need more alcohol for this.

I.LOVE.THIS.FLAT/APARTMENT/WHATEVER

After the Mirador, anything would have been better. But the new apartment/flat/whatever really is perfect, not too modern and in a part of town close to anything I could want. Plus it came with furniture. Note to self, send John the most expensive alcohol ever. Man is a god for arranging all this.

I've spent most of the day painting, the last owner had the most god-awful taste in wall decor. All neon and stripy, I was afraid guests would get migraines from the wallpaper in the guest room, it was that bad. (I know, my dear journal, I have a guest bedroom).

All in all I've been in a mad dash to get settled before I leave for Cardiff. I've got only good feelings about this trip, might actually not suck as much as I feared. I was sure Eames would choose some grunt job, all work and no play. Seems this job is rather juicy though, entirely enjoyable. Plus trains are involved.

Must remember to take pictures in Cardiff for the little monster, my real brother seems to be under the impression I'll forget her birthday next month. I'll look for something if I can grab a free moment.

So I'm leaving, for about 13 hours, but it's still leaving. I've got a meeting in Paris to attend to, so hopefully the French from the Montreal job will be useful. As for "Seamus", who more than likely show up while I'm in France, because I get the vibe that he likes to be inconvenient for people, I've left word with the concierge that should my "brother" appear, they are to let him into my room and call me on the cell I bought at the little drugstore around the corner. Hopefully uninhibited access to my room/the minibar will keep him around long enough for me to get back from France. It's risky, but I need to branch out beyond just the remarkable Mr. Eames. He maybe the best forger, but this business is built on more than just forgers. If I'm going to stay in Europe, I'll need friends in all sorts of places.

I got lucky with the remainder of my contacts in the Americas, a pointman I worked with a few years back managed to not only transfer all the money in accounts tied to my burned identities, he's looking into more permanent accommodations in the area. Once Eames rolls around with his promised "audition", I'll be ready to move out of this room with the paper thin walls and into a proper work space. It'd be amazing to get to actually sleep at night instead of listening to the man next door and his overly enthusiastic mistress. Just ewww.

I must have somehow pleased the universe, because after that crapfest that was the LA  job, things are finally looking up. Of course since the LA job sent me running all the way to Europe, I'd count anything that doesn't result with me in jail, bleeding or having to run for my life as "looking up". I wish I could say I had a profitable job lined up, but I doubt the "audition" will pay in anything but reputation. I can't spend much more time sitting around waiting for another chance to land in my lap, I've already tapped into my emergency accounts and that money will only last me a month or two in this hotel.

If only the damn rain would stop.