#ruiark

So, is she the one?” Tamar giggled at the whisper by her ear. The music was low in the tavern, the musicians just starting to work up a sweat after a couple hours of build up. People of all shapes and sizes were getting swept up in the groove--except her. The Mercenary. Tamar’d only seen her in here twice, but both times made a special part of her quiver. There was just something about the cut of her dark brown eyes that spoke to the great lengths she would go to not socialize with a single person in here and she wanted to see just how far that meant.

“Oh, yeah, that’s her.” Licking her lips, Ruiark had to tighten his arm around her waist not to get lost in the throng of patrons between them and the bar. As they got closer, those sharp eyes cast a dark glare her way, weight shifting with the impatience of someone who was very much done with a conversation that hadn’t even begun. “Well, well, well! Long time no see--”

“What are you still doing here?” She asked, tone harsh and expression harsher. “My boss told you to leave.”

“Technically,” Tamar argued, “your boss told me to fuck off. Those two are not necessarily the same.”

“Actually, they are. Now, I recommend you get before I have to throw you out.”

“Please,” Ruiark snorted, “don’t threaten us with a good time! We’ve been talking about how you’re gonna see us out all night! See, I told Tamar here--”

“I cannot even begin,” she boredly drawled, “to explain how many fucks I do not give.” She pulled her long, sakura-pink waves back into a messy bun and said, “I’ll give you to the count of three before I start breaking bones.”

“Really? We’re already to boning? That was fast!” Ruiark giggled, resting his chin on Tamar’s shoulder, completely unconcerned with the malice wafting off their target. “Hey, Mercenary, mind telling me why you’ve got such a stick up your ass for Tamar?”

“Yes.”

Tamar gave Ruiark’s blond locks a scratch and lamented, “her boss and my boss have this serious hate between them. They both think I’m here to try and get him to talk to my boss--”

“--Because you are--”

“--But I keep tryin’ to tell her that I’m done with that! I mean, my boss prol’ly ain’t, but I’ve got bigger things to worry about. Like you,” she said, giving the Mercenary another frightful smile. “We’ve had so many arguments and you’ve already thrown me out five times, but I still don’t know your name! Don’t you think that’s a little tragic?”

“No, what’s tragic is that you still keep coming back. Are you really that desperate?”

“This ain’t about desperation,” Tamar reasoned with a smile. “I just like ya, is all! I mean, I’d prefer to date you, but I’m fine with being friends if that’s all ya wanna give me!”

“Or just a name,” Ruiark offered up as a third option.

“Or just a name works, too. I’m not picky, I promise.”

The Mercenary gave her wink another cold look. She remained quiet for a few moments before her posture loosened and her arms crossed. Leaning against the wall at her back, she hiked her foot up on the counter and huffed a breath. “You’re really not here for him anymore, are you?”

Tamar rolled her eyes with a crooked smile. “I already told you that.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “but you mean it. You’re really just here to bug me.” Sighing, she closed those mean eyes of hers and leaned her head back until it met the wall with a light thud. Opening them again, she looked upon Ruiark and Tamar with a rather strained glance, like she would very much regret what she was about to say. “Larceny. My name’s Larceny.”

“Ooh, a deadly name for a deadly girl! Me likey!” Tamar clapped.

Ruiark offered her a manic grin and said, “nice ta meet cha! I’m Ruiark and this here is--”