a favor to ask

Larelle. The name buzzed in Luci’s head. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Still, the way the other women held herself told Luci that she was important in some way. That and she acted like her shit didn’t stink or something.

"Well, at first I just wanted to rescue you from boredom," Luci started, retracting her hand smoothly and laying it to rest on her lap. "Now I’d just like to have a nice conversation with you."

That was probably easier said than done. So far, Larelle didn’t seem to be that enthusiastic about her as a conversation partner. Or fellow human being, for that matter. Luci would have to try her best to be aloof but interesting to keep the other woman around long enough to find out what her story was. But…

Rescue her? If Larelle wasn't both in a good mood and intent on staying calm tonight, she would have cut the girl down and simply left. She was not in need of a rescue from boredom. The idea of conversation was only slightly better--which meant, of course, not something Larelle wanted or needed.

The bartender slid her and Luci their drinks, and Larelle removed a note from its space in her inner calf sheath, handing it casually to the bartender. She looked at Luci for about a minute and then raised her eyebrows, turning back to the bar. "Same reason most people come to this bar."

     sadistic part of her—despite how much she disliked Jace for shooting her—hoped      that he had gotten a few good hits in. 

     Kalrien brushed a lock of hair away from her face, giving a small shrug.      She had no problem with leaving the woman and her business out of       the investigation—sometimes allowances had to be made to focus on       the larger issue. If Favor was targeted for a narcotics investigation or      a police shakedown, things happened. She didn’t care about giving her      immunity in this if it gave her info on Dier.

     Short and sweet. Favor found herself respecting this cop, despite      her chosen profession. She listened to the speech, which obviously      sounded like some shit the hounds had been spouting for years as      protocol. Favor gave a small smirk at the comment about the bitch      being talkative.

"Lucilla Wardwick. Though everyone calls me Luci." She placed her drink on the bar and offered her now free hand to the other woman. "And yours?" 

"Larelle." She ignored the offered hand, motioning instead for two drinks. Larelle Favreux was not a hand-shaker. She was a drink-buyer, and this was how she showed politeness. "So, Luci. What do you want from me?"

Out of courtesy, she decided not to tap her metalminds tonight. Let the girl deal with her in her most natural form. Of course, she would still be better than the girl by a landslide--it was how things progressed.

     would go well here. Kalrien could sense that both she and this ‘Favor’ were      women of few words, preferring to let their actions speak for themselves. 

         Favor's arms crossed over her chest and she tilted her head          slightly, measuring this woman up. Straight to business--another          good sign. But she wasn't about to give the whiny prick up for          nothing, even if he did deserve it for being such a fucking moron.

     Walking right into a drug dealer’s base of operations without backup was not Kal’s      idea of a good plan, but here she was anyway. There was a job she had to do, a      lead she needed to follow, and she’d be damned if she let anything get in her way.      She was far from defenceless, should the worst happen, but every nerve in her      body was still on edge. 

     It had taken some work to find the place, and it was a wonder they had even let      her in. Her tactic for this lead was honesty—just tell them what they want to know,      hold nothing back. She knew these sorts of people, and they made her edgy, but      once you knew what you were doing, it wasn’t too hard to push your angle without      getting stabbed.

     Or maybe she’d just been among criminals for too long.

     Kalrien was cool and unreadable as she was led to a smallish room, where, pre-      sumably, this ‘Favor’ would meet her. Or, she would be killed. It would be an unwise      move on their part, but some people got desperate and stupid. 

     She crossed her arms and waited. Instead of worrying about what the next few       minutes would bring, she planned.

Favor walked into the small entry chamber, outwardly calm and composed but inwardly seething at the idiot who let a cop into her den. How one person could be that stupid was frankly beyond her. But the fact was, the woman was here and now she was Favor's problem and Favor had to get rid of her.

    He let the flare ebb just slightly on the pewter. Burning to hot, taking in too much, it was a good way to overdose. He had no intention of dying today. If Jace hadn’t done it, he certainly wasn’t going to let Elle’s metalfire do it. Letting up on his burn brought back the pain of his wounds slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, little one. Did I hurt your feelings?" Elle asked derisively and then snorted. "Here's your fucking Vibe." She went and plucked a small packet from a shelf, checking everything to make sure it was there--since her products were quality, she was determined to make sure they stayed that way--and then Larelle handed the little baby his packet of drugs for whomever it was that he wanted to bully.

Larelle was being herself tonight. Which meant she was drinking and being characteristically blunt. This was her off night, and she was going to fucking cherish it.

Midway through the night, she realized that the man sitting next to her had downed several shots, and she figured, to Ironeyes with it. She was down for a drinking competition. By the ninth shot, she was relatively fine--fine enough to notice the salute, and fine enough to give a subtle nod back. He was good.

And then she heard, "Hey there." They were slightly slurred words, spoken in saccharine tones by someone she did not deign to look at. Larelle downed her shot and motioned for the barkeep to slide her another. Then she said, in a monotone voice conveying exactly how she was going to murder this man, "Leave."

Not interested, and yet she continued the conversation. Luci couldn’t help smirking to herself, despite her new friend’s glare and dangerous tone of voice. There was something about the other woman…something about the way she held herself and something in the way she viewed  those around her that made Luci think she’d be a good ally to have. But at the same time, she definitely didn’t seem like the type of person to put up with her ditz act. Luci would have to play a different card.

"I guess it depends on what you’re looking for. If you want a dirty loudmouth or a brainless bimbo, then you’ve come to the right place. But a good lay or someone to have a real conversation with? Well,  we’d probably need to go elsewhere for that.” She punctuated her words by taking a sip from the glass that was set in front of her.

The smirk was irritating her beyond belief, but Elle had kept up the conversation because she knew this girl. One of Yomen's new dancers, she had been trailing Yomen's bitch around like she was his pup--and perhaps it was time to get to know her.

"Hmmm…" Should I get wine again? She considered as she slid into  the open seat. Nah, why not something with more of a kick. “Vodka  tonic, please.” She called out to the bartender once she had gained his attention. 

With one tough decision made, Luci looked around the poorly lit room for her next one. (The way she looked for her next sexual  conquest was pretty much identical to the way she  looked for her next ‘client’ at Spikes). Sadly, it was a pretty dry night: no one  stood out. With a sigh, Luci attempted to catch the eye of the woman she sat down next to.

Sliver take this. Why did she have to sit down? Larelle swirled her drink around and then took a sip. "Not interested," she said harshly.

Her back was straight, but she turned to look at the young woman with a cold, piercing gaze, and then her voice lowered to a dangerous, velvety tone as she shifted her eyes back to the bottles behind the bar.

Em pauses at that. She supposes so. She doesn’t think she’s ever used alcohol for that reason. She’s much more of the ‘find something else to occupy the mind’ than the ‘drown everything out’ type. She offers a little smile, regardless.

"I suppose so." Elle looked at the clock and then back at the girl's friends, who looked slightly antsy. "I do believe your friends are waiting for you," she said mildly, sipping her wine. Far be it from her to keep the girl while she was to win a bet.

"Hm. Fascinating. I'll have to go visit Weathering sometime then, it seems." Elle smiled properly. "Sometimes you simply need a very good pub when you're having a very bad day." Sliver knew Elle hadn't been to very many good pubs in ages.

No--Sliver was wrong for "Elle", wasn't it? Elle Renoux would be a Survivorist. Survivor knew that Elle Renoux had needed the company and comfort of a pub many times in her life where she had lacked male company. Instinctively, Larelle knew that Elle Renoux was from the seventh octant, where her mother had been a trader who had owned a boat and gone down with her ship.