Post by Kittles on Jul 19, 2014 23:38:33 GMT -5
The atmosphere was thick with noise and drink. She could smell the liquor on nigh every being's breath within a twenty feet radius - and the establishment was packed. The speakers pumped with noise and patrons danced flush to one another, grinding together in ways that made her heart flutter. There were card games aplenty being played throughout the house, and on her way in she'd passed what she was sure were a pair of prostitutes. All in all, she was utterly out of her element.
Still, she came. He wouldn't meet her on her turf, never, not in a million years, so she was resigned to sit meekly at one of the tiny tables with her feet tucked snugly under the chair, hands in her lap, head down and praying no one would engage her. So far, so good.
So focused was she on blocking out her surroundings that she started when a martini glass slid its way in front of her. She whipped her head up, and locked eyes with the man who'd brought her the drink.
She tittered nervously, wringing her hands. "Oh, no - no thank you, I don't-"
"Sweetheart, you keep running into me and people are going to start asking questions." the man said, cutting her off and flouncing down into the chair across from her.
She bit her lip and dropped her eyes to the only comforting view in the bar. Her hands were still nervously active.
Her new companion wasted no time continuing the conversation. "Why'd you come to a mess like this place? Not honestly worried about a heathen like me, are ya?" he said, grinning widely and revealing inhuman sharp teeth. His drink sloshed in his hand, sprinkling the table with small droplets that stank of something stronger than alcohol.
She looked up long enough to move her drink onto a coaster.
The man waited for a moment before leaning forward across the table, near enough to touch her if he had the mind to. She felt herself recoil. "Babydoll what are you doing here? Do you know how many of us are in a place like this?"
He gestured around the bar. She tried not to stare too long at any one being's vices - they were everywhere, everywhere, hurting souls, drowning themselves in fire, it hurt to stare too long. She snapped her attention back to the man, taking a deep breath and steeling herself.
Without knowing how to start, she felt the words tumble out of her mouth unguided. "Does it hurt?"
The man cocked an eyebrow. She flinched and looked down toward his hand - directly to the finger where a thick iron ring lay, a dusky red stone set in the center. He followed her gaze.
Carefully, he spoke. "Sometimes. But it's not really your business, is it?"
Her words spilled on. "If - if you haven't - ah - collected in a while, wouldn't it be best if you - I mean, wouldn't it hurt less if-"
The man leaned heavily forward across the table, smiling his fangy grin and whispering sharply. "Fuck 'em. You know how long I been at this? I don't give a damn. Go, run and tell your friends. Do you know how many of us are here? Sweetheart, this city belongs to us. Don't waste your precious, pure-hearted existence worrying about the damned reapers on the other side."
He jerked his head toward the door. "If you knew what was best for you, you'd be getting on."
She didn't need to be told twice. She stood up fast, threw a wad of cash onto the table - "thank you for the drink" - and was out the door in half a heartbeat.
Still, she came. He wouldn't meet her on her turf, never, not in a million years, so she was resigned to sit meekly at one of the tiny tables with her feet tucked snugly under the chair, hands in her lap, head down and praying no one would engage her. So far, so good.
So focused was she on blocking out her surroundings that she started when a martini glass slid its way in front of her. She whipped her head up, and locked eyes with the man who'd brought her the drink.
She tittered nervously, wringing her hands. "Oh, no - no thank you, I don't-"
"Sweetheart, you keep running into me and people are going to start asking questions." the man said, cutting her off and flouncing down into the chair across from her.
She bit her lip and dropped her eyes to the only comforting view in the bar. Her hands were still nervously active.
Her new companion wasted no time continuing the conversation. "Why'd you come to a mess like this place? Not honestly worried about a heathen like me, are ya?" he said, grinning widely and revealing inhuman sharp teeth. His drink sloshed in his hand, sprinkling the table with small droplets that stank of something stronger than alcohol.
She looked up long enough to move her drink onto a coaster.
The man waited for a moment before leaning forward across the table, near enough to touch her if he had the mind to. She felt herself recoil. "Babydoll what are you doing here? Do you know how many of us are in a place like this?"
He gestured around the bar. She tried not to stare too long at any one being's vices - they were everywhere, everywhere, hurting souls, drowning themselves in fire, it hurt to stare too long. She snapped her attention back to the man, taking a deep breath and steeling herself.
Without knowing how to start, she felt the words tumble out of her mouth unguided. "Does it hurt?"
The man cocked an eyebrow. She flinched and looked down toward his hand - directly to the finger where a thick iron ring lay, a dusky red stone set in the center. He followed her gaze.
Carefully, he spoke. "Sometimes. But it's not really your business, is it?"
Her words spilled on. "If - if you haven't - ah - collected in a while, wouldn't it be best if you - I mean, wouldn't it hurt less if-"
The man leaned heavily forward across the table, smiling his fangy grin and whispering sharply. "Fuck 'em. You know how long I been at this? I don't give a damn. Go, run and tell your friends. Do you know how many of us are here? Sweetheart, this city belongs to us. Don't waste your precious, pure-hearted existence worrying about the damned reapers on the other side."
He jerked his head toward the door. "If you knew what was best for you, you'd be getting on."
She didn't need to be told twice. She stood up fast, threw a wad of cash onto the table - "thank you for the drink" - and was out the door in half a heartbeat.