| The Mother-Load of Misunderstandings |
[15 Oct 2005|05:30pm] |
Bethany had spent most of her nights walking the streets of Las Vegas and slipping into the back alleyways as those usually yielded answers unlike any other place in Vegas. The people lost in shadows tended to be the ones with the most answers. They were often the ones who were not afraid of speaking up.
She now found herself in a seedy bar that was a few alleyways back from the main strip of Vegas. The people who littered its tables were the sort of people most normal folk crossed the street to avoid. Alcohol stained the ground beneath her feet and smoke clung to the air. All she could smell was blood and the stale scent of sweat.
This was not a place that Bethany would frequent but she had come looking for someone. A man who went by the name of Brent; she had been told that he was the man to talk to about the recent disappearances in Vegas. Apparently he had information and Bethany was willing to lose herself in the grit of his world if it meant she was one step closer to finding out where Victoria was.
The Slayer was dressed in an almost modest outfit. She was once again in black from head to foot. It had become her favorite color in the recent days. A polo neck hugged her figure and covered all that she did not want to be seen. Black pants clung to her legs and knee high boots were laced tightly until the leather wrapped her calves. The boots had no heel for once, as heels were impractical for what she was doing. The present from Darian wrapped her thigh; her Sai was around the other and leather gloves covered her hands so she wouldn’t leave any prints if things had to get a little rough.
Bethany moved her way through the gathered crowd, ignoring the cat calls and wolf whistles coming from the various tables. She paused in front of the bar and found the bartender with her eyes. “I’m looking for Brent.”
The bartender shook his head and gestured towards his ear as if to say he couldn’t hear her.
Bethany rolled her eyes, and lifted a knee to settle it on a stool before planting her hands down on the bar to lean in. She settled a few inches away from his mouth and said again, “I’m looking for Brent. Have you seen him?”
“He ain’t been in tonight, maybe hang around for a bit and you’ll see him.,” the bartender responded as he tipped his head and gave Bethany the once over. “Keep the weapons to yourself and we won’t have any problems.”
Bethany quirked her lips into a forced smile. “I’ll take a tequila shot.”
The bar Bethany had chosen for her search was on the low end of what Las Vegas had to offer. As such, the dim lighting had more to do with cheap fixtures and concealment of unexceptional furnishings than ambience. It permitted certain of its customers to linger unnoticed in indistinct corners, and discuss confidential matters without an audience.
It also allowed for the Slayer's eyes to skim over a familiar demon reclining to one side of the room. He remained obscured while she went to the bartender and made her inquiry, leaning close to be heard over the testosterone-fueled ruckus. The rim of a highball glass tipped back, and he caught a cube of ice between his teeth and chewed it, the muscles in his lean jaw working overtime.
The client's excuses had become an obnoxious buzz in his ear, like a gnat; the thick pronunciation of each 's' sparking an irrational urge to pry the man's mouth open and cut out his tongue. It could only be an improvement.
Darian listened with a minimum of attention and watched Bethany. The way her knee was bent to the stool's ripped cushion, her weapons flashing mutedly in limited lighting, deceptively delicate hands on the well-worn bar. He set his glass down slowly and swallowed. One of his hands drifted uninvited to the client's tie and wrapped around the knot. In a quick twisting motion, the material had been cinched tight around his fist, and Darian's knuckles were digging into man's throat. "I believe I've made it clear that I'm not a banker, and this isn't a loan. If you aren't prepared to pay within the week, I will hang you. With this tie."
After a few seconds of enjoying the client's pointless struggles to breathe, he withdrew his hand and settled the man's clothes back into place. Client nodded and nearly tipped his chair over on the way out.
Bethany tipped her head as she felt her eyes drawn to one side of the room and she was not disappointed. She tilted her neck and let her eyes traverse the shadows as she located a familiar shape hidden in one corner. Bethany would recognize those broad shoulders and those green eyes anywhere.
She retrieved her shot, downed it in one, paid up the amount in cash and then stepped back off the stool. Her weight was settled down on the ground before Bethany was moving. Her hips swayed from side to side as she carried herself with confidence that almost bordered on arrogance.
"We seem to have a knack for being in the same place at the same time," she muttered as she leaned in to wrap Darian's tie with her fingers. A slight grip was exerted and Bethany covered his lips with hers in a kiss that clearly stated how comfortable she felt with him and their ever-evolving relationship.
( Why Are You Here? )
( Shoving Away )
( Too Deep )
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