Post by Rose Gray on Dec 3, 2006 1:02:50 GMT -5
Rose sauntered up to the casino bar, the expression on her face daring anyone to ask how old she was or if they could buy her a drink. When no one questioned her, she sat down at the bar and waited for her client, who was later than she was. No small feat. So she waited. Only once guy slithered up to her, and slinked away just as quickly when there was suddenly a knife between his middle and index finger.
Finally her client, her late, unnamed client, pulled up a stool next to her. His was a rich collecter, a pimp. Rose didn't approve of him, but she was pressed for pay. What else could she do.
"You have it, right?" he hissed through smiling yellowed teeth.
Rose leaned away from the foul breath. "Don't worry babe. Here's your little gun." The little gun was the various components of an uzi. Sure, Rose could have put it together and kept it herself, but being paid was much more useful to her. She'd never run across anything her daggers couldn't handle. And she was a scavenger, a retriever. People asked, and she found them what they asked. And she got paid. Even by scumballs like this.
He passed her said pay. Then he proceeded to make her a rather detestable job offer, involving his chosen line of business, which she turned down as politely as possible.
Once he left, Rose turned to the bartender. "Tea," she said. The bartender shot her a confused look. Rose smiled sweetly. "Not jokin', babe. No alchohal. Tea. Fetch." Instantly smitten, the young bartender ran off to get the strange young woman her tea, while Rose slumped over the counter, looking miserably unsatisfied with her life.
Finally her client, her late, unnamed client, pulled up a stool next to her. His was a rich collecter, a pimp. Rose didn't approve of him, but she was pressed for pay. What else could she do.
"You have it, right?" he hissed through smiling yellowed teeth.
Rose leaned away from the foul breath. "Don't worry babe. Here's your little gun." The little gun was the various components of an uzi. Sure, Rose could have put it together and kept it herself, but being paid was much more useful to her. She'd never run across anything her daggers couldn't handle. And she was a scavenger, a retriever. People asked, and she found them what they asked. And she got paid. Even by scumballs like this.
He passed her said pay. Then he proceeded to make her a rather detestable job offer, involving his chosen line of business, which she turned down as politely as possible.
Once he left, Rose turned to the bartender. "Tea," she said. The bartender shot her a confused look. Rose smiled sweetly. "Not jokin', babe. No alchohal. Tea. Fetch." Instantly smitten, the young bartender ran off to get the strange young woman her tea, while Rose slumped over the counter, looking miserably unsatisfied with her life.