💌 ESTELLE 💌

Undercity's filled to the brim with backstabbers and traitors but they looked out for one another. 'Don't shit in my toilet' kind of camaraderie. Warned to avoid her in case she tried to blend in an take them out from the inside but she doubted torturing herself with two jaegers was part of the master plan.

Gert fucking hated her. She'd punch her if they met in the streets but she had to pretend to like the job so she poured her the damn drinks and set them at the counter. Gert tuned out the band playing. She couldn't hear it right anyways, their DJ was shit and didn't know how to control the sound system or figure out how the acoustics in the room worked. Getting louder was always the wrong answer.

Vi downed her jaegers and all three of the beers and slammed the last cup on the table. "Three more."

"I think you're done." She would gladly let her die of alcohol poisoning, but she wasn't a Jinxer here. She was Gert, bartender, the girl you come to for drinks and nothing else, and she had to follow some rules. Brig did the small-talk and the customer-service and he was busy chatting up Hinge.

Vi slammed the payment on the table, shaking the wood witht he force of it. "Three more."

"You're done," Gert slid the money back over to her.

Vi blinked. "You're a piece of work, just get the fucking drink." She pushed the coins back.

"Don't need your blood money," Gert muttered to herself.

Vi chuckled. "You know, huh?" Her eyes were glazed over, chin propped on her hand. The stroke of dark paint upon her cheeks drained downwards like tears. Her hair dye colored her forehead, and ears, and the rest of her skin was bruises- old and new. But underneath it all were piercing blue eyes. Gemstones behind the bedrock, the stuff the miners died for to find, would kill for to keep.

"Everybody knows," Gert replied.

Vi laughed, throwing her head back. Her shoulders shook, the black of her eyes began to bled down her chin, her neck. It trickled down the jut of her collarbones and dyed the edges of her chest wrap. "Figures," she said. "Don't worry, only blood on that money is mine."

She assessed the coins. "I don't want to clean up your body off here. Get out."

"Aw, concerned?" she quirked a brow. "Don't deserve it sweetheart."

"Don't make this get ugly, pig," she spat.

Her eyes widened, the irritating grin fell. "Water," she rubbed her forehead. "And the beer later. Come on doll I know we fucking hat em' but we pour a drink for even the worst of em'."

'We', like she could paint herself different and pretend none of it happened. Gert reached for the water tap and set the cup down with a splash.

"You're right, that's what make us different from you."

"Gertie!" Hinge bellowed. "We're up!" Hinge tapped her hands on the wood with excitement, her braids glittered with a rainbow of neon accessories woven into them.

Vi's gaze was heavy upon her. Gert threw the cleaning cloth under the desk by the shelves for the next one on the shift. She looked at Vi just once. A lonely hunched over snail-like shape at the bar, downing a glass of water like it was a shot. She left to change.

She wore her performance clothes, the only addition she needed were her face paint and gloves. Leo switched into her high-heeled boots, which dented their savings for months. It was spray-painted and looked nothing like the minimalist, slick thing it was when it resided in whichever top-side store's shelf.

They gathered in a circle and threw their arms around each other's shoulders. Leo's breath smelled like juice and Hinge's dark lipstick painted her teeth a little. Get hid a snigger and eyes Leo, silently informing her not to warn Hinge of it.

"Alright ladies," Leo slapped their back. "Let's explode this shindig!"

Hinge groaned. "Still sounds like a bomb thing and not a chemical thing."

"My next best thing was 'let's baron these streets' but Margot would fucking kill us."

Gert groaned.

Leo laughed. "Let's show them our shine. How about that?"

Better than anything else she came up with. The shouted a cheer and ran to the stage. Gert stood at the mixing desk, track lined up. Hinge stood behind her with the electric guitar and Leo took center-stage, setting the mic on the stand.

Leo gave the introductions, a magnetic force of nature no matter how rowdy a crowd. Gert closed her eyes, ignored the strobe lights, the darkness, the everything, and tune into the tempo of the beat. She made the mix with a sense of hope, when she was feeling light-hearted and hopeful. A rare moment to capture. The upbeat rhythm sounded alien to her ears. Hinge came to the forefront, and Gert did her best to match with her, enhance her freestyle moment.

They were stars, burning endlessly against the darkness of the undercity. If only they could get records, go record in a real studio and put a vinyl out. Those Pilties wouldn't even know what hit them. They tried to sneak into studios, buy recording equipment. Gert studied up on the recordings but sneaking into one was nigh impossible.

But one day.

One day she and the Jinxers would breach topside. They'd see the sunlight. This would all end and she'd get that record out.

Until then, she'd bring out all the magic in Leo and Hinge in Zaun.

Their set ended, the rush of the performance left he sated. Everything seemed damn near worth it for those ten minutes. The patrons flocked to Leo, Hinge dragged her to the bar and eagerly began to outline her plans for their next performance to embarrass the other bands which came on.

Gert barely listened, still replaying the song in her head, feeling it in the thrum of her pulse.

Hinge leaned into her ear. "I think that one wants you," she giggled and fled into the crowds before she could so much as pay attention and process. When she did look to the direction she pointed, she found Vi, slumped exactly where she was before with her empty glass of water.

Gert stood up to leave. She didn't want to end this night looking at her.

"Wait," Vi called as she walked past her. Gert stopped, mostly on reflex. "Nice tunes."

She snorted. "Nice tunes?" Had to be half out of her to have said something so ridiculous. Sloshed people didn't make good critics.

"Haven't heard that one in a long, long time," she sighed. "But it sounded...different."

"I'm a DJ that's kind of what I do." She sighed and readied to head otu but was stopped once more.

"What....what's the first song called? Before you changed it?"

"Ever heard 'Our Love'?" she asked, and sung the chorus. Vi leaned close to hear her over the crowd. She was warm, radiated with it, and she smelled too much like sweat and blood.

Vi closed her eyes, seemingly having forgotten she was meant to figure out if she's ever heard the song. She leaned closer, her scrunched brows relaxed, her lips fell into a soft line. Gert couldn't avoid seeing those plush yet chapped lips even if she wanted. The cut of her jaw was calling her attention. Traitor, pig, she reminded herself. If top-side wnated a spy, Vi wasn't a bad pick. That handsome face could get her places.

"I have..." Vi concluded. "'Our Love', huh?" she asked.

Gert nodded.

"Ever have a turn with the mic?"

"What do you want?" she eyed her cautiously.

"A conversation, without a punch in the mix preferably."

"Wrong place, wrong person," Gert replied.

"Haven't met a fist both times we talked," Vi grinned, her eyes twinkling in the strobe lights. "I'd say I at least got the right person."

She wanted answers, information, something she could supply the Jinxers with but the hurt and the questions seemed like she truly wanted nothing more than a drink and a talk. Vi hasn't been seen in a uniform in ages. Gert locks up the doubts, the naive hope she may be better. Whatever it was, she still worked with them.

"Wouldn't have to search so hard if you made the right call first time around."

Vi sighed, weary, the kind of exhalation she's seen too often in the streets from the hopeless and the tired, begging for a miracle to strike down, knowing firmly it won't.

"Never been good at making the right choice," said Vi. "Nice meeting you....?"

"Not getting a name out of me, Vi," Gert replied and skipped out of the bar. She heard Vi's call to wait, probably to ask her name for real, but she wasn't giving it away so easy.