Author Topic: Bank Shot  (Read 405 times)

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Offline Saiketsu

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Bank Shot
« on: February 01, 2019, 03:35:54 PM »
He couldn't remember if Paulie had just left to go take a piss, or if he had gone home. Pierre kept looking towards the bar to try to find his casual human friend. The two of them had a wonderful relationship - Paulie would get fucked up on the drug of the week, usually some suds and bud, and Pierre would indulge in a few drinks from the human. By the time Pierre had reached out to the middle-aged human, Paulie had already hammered down three Screwballs and a Bloody Mary, and was starting a fresh blunt. Like usual, the old human had given him some sort of casual hell before sloppily exposing his neck for the vampire's first dive into oblivion.

Fuck it, the vampire thought, his foot stepping wide to catch his swaying hip. He slowly picked up the blue piece of chalk and polished the tip of his pool stick in anticipation of Paulie coming back. They had a little wager going and Paulie owed him a small sum of money already, a small stack of Thomas Jeffersons sitting on the edge of the pool table. A little ditty popped into his head as he rubbed the chalk on meticulously and the tone-deaf vampire hummed it to himself under the din of the bar behind him. Tonight was not a night we wanted to remember, and Pierre was a bit anxious to keep it that way.

Ceci had gone crazy again. This time she had taken it upon herself and gone through his messages with Jenella and decided that he was some kind of cheating, lying scumbag. He had woken up abruptly right in the middle of the day to her throwing his clothing at him, telling him to get out. Groggily, he tried to ask what was wrong with her, only to duck as his phone also came flying at his head. Apparently she didn't like how frequently and intimately he was texting his fledge.

But Ceci didn't know the relationship that he and Jenella had. There was no relationship, no sex since he had gotten together with Ceci almost 6 months ago. There was no intimacy, except for the kind that Ceci had made up in her mind due to her own history of bad relationships and boyfriends. Certainly, there was chatting in foreign languages, and jokes about times past, but nothing risque about talking with his daughter. Ceci knew who Jenella was to him, knew what he was, knew everything. It was all just some big misunderstanding.

"Ceci, I can't go anywhere! Calm down, please!" He jumped out of her bed as a shoe collided with his shoulder. She was crying, hysterically now, and yelling incoherently about what a terrible person he was. Scumbag, liar, prick, any word she could fit in between angry sobs. She was gathering his things and throwing them one-by-one at him with varying success. He reached out to try to calm her, ease her frustration and try to figure out what the hell went wrong. Instead it was her who had left, pulling dramatically away from him and slamming the apartment door for good measure. Pierre stood in his under shorts in the middle of her bedroom, blindsided, groggy, and not altogether sure what had just transpired.

When the sun had set, he found that Ceci's rage had not quelled after abandoning him in her apartment. She had taken her wrath out on his precious Camille. Three metal-deep scratches weaved their way back and forth across his hood and driver's side door, proving that she had the time to tell him how she really felt. Broken glass, which was once his headlights, crunched under his shoes as he ran to access the totality of the damage. The cherry on top, however, were the deep gashes in the two tires on the driver's side, which seemed to have been made with something Pierre could only assume was a hatchet. How could such a tiny woman could cause so much damage?

So after an hour of finding a tow truck that didn't charge him an arm and leg, Camille was brought to the only auto shop open past 8PM. After two new tires, replacement headlights, high beams, and blinker bulbs, along with the two week process of getting the body refinished, Ceci's frustration had ended up costing him well over $600 in repairs. Not exactly the way he wanted to start off the night. And now he was single again.

He called up a taxi and went home, fearful of Ceci coming back to find him on the street in front of her apartment. Now he needed to change the locks again.

Psycho bitch.

Now he leaned drunkenly against the pool table cueing up the solids and stripes, racking them absentmindedly around in their little plastic triangle on the carpeted table top. The vampire took one more look around the crowded bar for Paulie before pulling a cigarette out of the pack in his back pocket and lit it. "Fuck it," he said aloud with the lit cigarette hanging from his lips, smoke filtering out at his words. He lined up his pool stick and drunkenly took aim.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

Damien. Nikolai. Pierre. Quinn. Zoheret. Levinia.
Isolde. Guillaume.
Kendrick.

Offline Billiam

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #1 on: February 01, 2019, 04:22:09 PM »
That arrogant, stupid, little shit hole! Who the fuck actually calls himself "The Black Prince?"

This thought belonged to the fine establishment's newest occupant for the evening, and for the vampires who's brains were open, her mind was screaming. She was a tiny thing, short and skinny, with flaming red hair that was currently framing her face. Despite her size, there was a certain rage about her that could be intimidating. It could also be very attractive if you're into that sort of thing, but she didn't like to make assumptions. The newcomer's face was marked by a pissed off expression that matched her mental shout.

For those who couldn't hear her, an angry red head in a sheer maroon crop top, black sports bra and ripped skinny jeans entered in a huff. Her black boots had white laces, and a three inch Kitty-Kat heel supported her as she strut across the pool hall, looking for a table. Her hoop earnings were made from barbed wire, and added a certain savageness to her look. They hinted at a skill set that came along with this little attitude. She grabbed a pool cue from a nearby table, and waited for a partner.

Her face could not be described as patient as she tapped her boot, checking her savage red nail polish for flaws. Why was she mad? How would pool help? What other emotions did she have other than pissed off? Nobody knew as she stood there ready to devour someone. She'd made an entrance though, and one mortal whispered near enough to Pierre that he could hear it, "She looks like she came here to fight."   
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.


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Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #2 on: February 01, 2019, 04:47:35 PM »
Pierre glanced up at the mortal's words and found the very obvious source of worry. Yes, she does, Pierre thought, smirking. He had always had a thing for redheads - it was that fierceness that always drew him in. Now, intoxicated, there were no brakes on that reel. The Frenchman leaned back up, leaving the pool rack unbroken.

"Hey!" he called to her above the din, taking the cigarette from his lips so as to speak clearer. A few humans looked over to see what the commotion was before pointing their attentions back at their own people after deeming Pierre just another drunk guy in a bar. Slowly, with cigarette in one hand and pool stick in the other, the older vampire made his way over to the Redhead, weaving unsteadily through the swath of humans. "You want to take some of that anger out on the table instead of scaring us civilians?" He was far too drunk to recognize to whom he was speaking, or to even pay attention to how he would have come off to the woman, but obviously he was up for a little bit more of a challenge than Paulie - wherever he had gotten off to - could present to him. Especially in a game of pool.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

Damien. Nikolai. Pierre. Quinn. Zoheret. Levinia.
Isolde. Guillaume.
Kendrick.

Offline Billiam

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #3 on: February 01, 2019, 05:42:11 PM »
Lisa-Joe Hampton turned her gaze to meet her drunken opponent. She had to admit, for a man he wasn't too bad. There was something handsome but soft about him. Maybe it was the blonde. The corners of her pout transformed into a cruel little smirk, eyes remaining angry. The redhead took out a pack of Red Apple cigarettes and tapped the box one, two, three, before placing a stick in her mouth. Ignited, it billowed a cloud of smoke around her lips and eyes. Stevie Nicks had temporarily possessed her, and she left a touch of the gypsy behind. To Pierre's comment she rolled her eyes, but followed it up with a quick look up and down.

"How about I take it out on you Shugah," she quipped back, a musical and lazy southern drawl offsetting the vaguely threatening comment. She slapped a quarter on the table, before moving to the side. Her arms became like a Vegas show girl as she pointed to the coin and said, "your bid."

She'd come to play for money, and her opening bid, although small, was on the table. She pulled an ash tray over and used it, then crossed her arms across her chest, pool cue in hand. She waited for him to make a move.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.


Prince~Harpy~Two-Face~Legend~Satanist~Spy~Wolf~Huntsman~Slayer~Rodent~

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #4 on: February 01, 2019, 05:54:12 PM »
Pierre puckered up his lips at the sting, taking it as nothing more than an invitation to continue something flirtatious. Pierre liked hard women, women who threatened to kick the crap out of him, put him in his place. They were always more fun when you were looking to start some trouble. He wouldn't mind having it taken out on him - women were good at doing that to him. First Nadia, then Jenella, Ceci. Why not? He could chase this for a little while. He eyed her as she followed him back to the table, enjoying the view.

It wasn't until she got closer to the pool table that he noticed she wasn't a human. In his current state, he couldn't quite determine her age but figured she wasn't too much younger than he was - after 400, it's all the same anyway. Pierre smirked and put the cigarette back into his mouth as he pulled out a wad of folded bills. Unceremoniously, he pulled out one of the ten dollar bills he had won off of Paulie and slapped it down over her quarter. "Come on," he groaned playfully with the cigarette hanging from his lips, his eyes glossed over, "you better have more balls than that. I'm expecting a fight after all."
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

Damien. Nikolai. Pierre. Quinn. Zoheret. Levinia.
Isolde. Guillaume.
Kendrick.

Offline Billiam

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #5 on: February 02, 2019, 03:41:50 AM »
Well, well well. This man had the right spark about him. He’d been challenged and challenged right back. She was impressed, although less so at the sight of a ten. Lisa-Joe let her cruel smile turn into a slightly pleased smirk. She sat up on the pool table, kicking her legs as if she were in high chair. It was then she noticed he was a vampire, and an older one at that! This city had a decent amount of elders, more than the usual metro area, but Lisa-Joe was still surprised when she met one just in the wild. She noticed his intoxicated state and huffed in jealousy. She’d have to get on his level eventually, and hopefully the attractive Frenchman could could oblige her. She didn’t have a purse, but from within her skinny jeans summoned a money clip full of twenties. She counted five and slapped them over Pierre’s measly ten.

“Raise you,” she said sweetly, eyes focused like a viper. “If it’s too rich for your blood cousin let me know.” As she finished her bid, she took a long drag of her Red Apple, while she waited for his response.

She emphasized the word cousin. Her face looked like she was telling a dirty secret. She meant it as slang term for vampire, but was unsure if Pierre would get her down home southern expressions.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.


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Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #6 on: February 02, 2019, 12:42:01 PM »
"Cousin, huh?" Pierre smirked, his charm turned on high and his hands pulling out seven, eight, nine more ten dollar bills that he threw down in the pile. "So we're cousins now?" The big smirk on his face stayed as he made fun of the phrase, playfully of course. He returned the folded money to the back pocket of his fitted blue jeans that sagged a bit on his hips. The tip of his cigarette, now nearly a half inch of pure ash suspended from the red hot cherry threatened to fall down Pierre's black cotton polo, as Pierre rubbed the chalk once again over the tip of his stick, completely forgetting that he had done so already. "Cousin," he said under his breath, mockingly, just loud enough for the woman to hear him.

"Are we gonna play now, or are you gonna try to get more money out of me," And then he added, more for his own drunken humor, "cousin."

He was hoping to push her buttons, just a little. He meant no harm in it, but he did get some small bit of entertainment from trying to annoy his company. Knowing how his night was going, however, the thought suddenly occurred to him that she may instead just try to strike him between his legs with the end of that stick she was holding.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

Damien. Nikolai. Pierre. Quinn. Zoheret. Levinia.
Isolde. Guillaume.
Kendrick.

Offline Billiam

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #7 on: February 02, 2019, 04:00:41 PM »
Lisa had certainly thought about taking her pool cue and giving Pierre a swift smack in the sack, watching his face well up with embarrassment and pain. Hell, he seemed like he was egging her on. Maybe he was into getting beat down there. It wasn't the Brujah's place to judge, but she smiled at the thought of this cute man secretly hoping to get taken on by a strong woman. She knew he was looking for trouble when he kept calling her cousin, obviously teasing her about her word choice. A venomous flash overtook her already angry face, and depending on how sensitive Pierre was to changes in auras he might detect that for the first time a bit of it was directed at him. On the other hand, she liked his company. Maybe this was exactly what she needed. She couldn't just beat up her boss, but perhaps beating up Pierre - at pool - would satisfy the itch.

"I think this is enough of your money for me to take," she said slyly, placing her own cash back in her money clip. "Wanna set up the table shugah? I'll even let you break if you say something nice to me."

She raised her eyebrow at him and invited him into her personal space with the crook of a finger. How brave Pierre was feeling may affect how close he chose to get. 
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.


Prince~Harpy~Two-Face~Legend~Satanist~Spy~Wolf~Huntsman~Slayer~Rodent~

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #8 on: February 02, 2019, 11:52:05 PM »
He didn't miss the venomous look in her eyes and acknowledged that he was on thin ice, right where he liked to be. But he didnt miss that bit of smile that also told him where he stood in her books so far. Perfect.

"I'm Pierre Jean-Luc LaForgeron de Calais," he said grandly with as much accent as he could push, punctuating each consonant as if he were telling her something impressive like some title of royalty. He extended his hand with palm up so as to take her hand if she accepted his greeting and press it to his lips quickly, a sign of good friendship and a bit of dramatic flash. "But you can call me Pierre duSang, miss...?" Now he presented his name with only a slight accent, knowing that most Americans couldnt master how French words were pronounced. He was accustomed to his name being Americanized and took no offense to whatever slipped out between those pretty lips.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

Damien. Nikolai. Pierre. Quinn. Zoheret. Levinia.
Isolde. Guillaume.
Kendrick.

Offline Billiam

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #9 on: February 04, 2019, 02:47:59 PM »
When Kindred reach a certain age, their views on certain issues become complicated. As a proper lady of the old south, Lisa-Joe expected a certain base level of politeness and chivalry from men, but at the same time felt herself very much a feminist. This dueling perspective on the male gender often left men in a position of can't win. However, Pierre's strange brand of theatricality and flirting was hitting all the needed boxes. She also had a New Orleans relationship with France, so she responded in kind, as he took her hand.

"Heureux de vous rencontrer Monsieur. Je m'appelle Lisa-Joe Hampton, votre plaisir de coure." Her accent was not terrible, indicative of someone with formal training, but it didn't feel natural and a bit of her southern twang slipped in and out of her words.

She let him kiss it, giving him a pleased look, as if he was being a very good boy. She leaped off the table and pointed to the balls.

"Set up Pierre duSang," she instructed, attaching the same weird emphasis the Frenchman had used on cousin to his name.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.


Prince~Harpy~Two-Face~Legend~Satanist~Spy~Wolf~Huntsman~Slayer~Rodent~

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #10 on: February 06, 2019, 12:12:07 PM »
It took him a moment to recognize her Creole-influenced French, her twange momentarily making him think she was speaking English words he just couldn't understand properly. But once the words filter through the translatory system he was only used to using with Damien and Jenella -

- and Nadia -

he actually understood who he was chatting with.

Lisa-Joe Hampton. District Leader Jake McCloud's chick. He didn't know - or at least couldn't recall - much else about the relationship she was said to have with the little bastard, but her name was tied to him. Maybe she was his fledge? No, she was much too old for that. His woman? She didn't seem to smell like him, at least not that Pierre could make out in this atmosphere. He inadvertently hesitated before responding in a French that was indicative of his time and place back when France was simply a kingdom and he was merely a human blacksmith.

"Ah, bien, ma chérie," Pierre exclaimed in genuine surprise as he took the rack off the organized pyramid of billiards. "Vous connaissez le français. Très bien, très bien. Et vous parlez bien le français pour une américaine. En général, je ne trouve personne qui parle français volontiers, sans parler de la clarté. Personne dans cette ville. J'ai vécu à Montréal quand je suis arrivé dans le nouveau monde. Ensuite, j'ai vécu à la New Orléans pendant quelques années. En dehors de ces deux villes, le français était difficile à trouver." As he spoke, he forgot to check to see whether this Lisa-Joe was actually comprehending what he was saying - not that he was saying anything of any importance - or whether she was actually listening. His French tended to be quite a bit older and out of date when he wasn't paying attention to his sentences. Many times his own youngsters couldn't keep up with the strange combination of Latin-Anglo-French of old that he was accustomed to speaking in his human years. Instead he took aim at the triangle of balls which didn't seem to want to stay steady in his vision, and took the first shot. The cue ball striking the head ball sent loud clack through the noisy club. The outsiders went spinning off in all directions, and one stripe ended up sinking in the back corner pocket. The Frenchman leaned back up with a bit of sway and tilted his head at the table.

"So are we going to play now," And then cautiously opening up the table for her, while subconsciously guarding his genitalia against any attack from the end of a pool stick, he added just for fun, "cousin?"
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

Damien. Nikolai. Pierre. Quinn. Zoheret. Levinia.
Isolde. Guillaume.
Kendrick.

Offline Billiam

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #11 on: February 07, 2019, 08:26:32 AM »
So what you think you're fancy?

The more elaborate display of older French made Lisa scowl a bit, not that Pierre was paying attention. He was too busy listening to himself talk. She got the bulk of it, although there were a few words that left her stumbling. Well, she would just have to teach him a lesson. She eyed his crotch for a moment wondering if that was the appropriate place to teach, but then saw the table. She thought about the wager and that she'd show him up in the game. Yes... That would be best.

She saw his break and it wasn't bad. He would be stripes and her solids. That was fine with her. She liked solids better anyways. Then he had to go and goat her again. This guy just loved trouble.

"Desperate to lose so soon," she mocked, chalking her stick as she eyed the board.

He passed his follow up shot to her. Well, what a gentleman. She noticed the funny way he guarded his crotch and gave it a dark, intentional stare. It was only a matter of time. Lisa moved swiftly, pool cue in hand to a corner. She briefly got close to Pierre, and let her eyes meet his, face tight and unmoving. Her scent was cigarettes, booze and a soft perfume, a little sweetness among the harsh. She spied an easy first pick up and sunk a solid in a corner pocket. She lined up a second, although this one was harder. She lined the shot up using the cue, closing one eye like a sniper. Then she leaned back and gave it just enough force. The second solid slunk into a side pocket, giving Lisa-Joe a one ball advantage on Pierre. She scanned the board for another pickup but found nothing easy. She hit the white ball against the sides, trying to put it somewhere Pierre couldn't work with it. It ended up somewhere that gave him a few openers but all of them he'd have to work for. She wasn't much about giving ground.

"Your turn cousin," she snapped back, tone sickly sweet and yet somehow even more aggressive.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.


Prince~Harpy~Two-Face~Legend~Satanist~Spy~Wolf~Huntsman~Slayer~Rodent~

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #12 on: February 11, 2019, 12:39:44 PM »
If he had had the need, Pierre would have held his breath as Lisa-Joe crossed into his space, those angry little eyes making all the difference in the world. It was tense for those first few seconds, and Pierre was extraordinarily thrilled at her scent and presence near him. Her face, while unmoving, told him everything he needed to know. She was one hard, cold bitch and probably one ferocious lover in bed. Not that he was already thinking about that type of thing, of course.

That was, until Lisa-Joe pulled her eye contact away and leaned down over the table for her shot. He hardly noticed the actual shot she took because while he tried to keep his eyes politely on the table, the alcohol had his eyes on her figure. How was he supposed to ignore this woman, full of piss and vinegar, flexing perfect undead skin to take a serious shot, and pay attention to the game? He was drunk! Surely she didn't mind his occasional wandering eyes as she bent and stretched in those jeans, jerked that stick steadily and with precision, flaunted that smooth skin on her torso under her crop top.

Pierre took a purposeful moment to flick the ashes off his cigarette onto the floor as Lisa-Joe straightened herself and spat out her aggression at him. He had to try hard to get his silly thoughts out of his mind, thoughts of seeing her naked shoulders under him. Fortunately, no one had ever managed to pull a thought from his head.

She belongs to Jake McCloud, stupid. She may not have been Jake's lover, mistress, or fledge, but she was a close ally of the little brat who called himself "The Dark Prince". Pierre's family made no assimilations, allyships, or bonds with Jake McCloud's. Honestly the kid was too young and bold for his own good. What did they call themselves? Monarchs? Mohawks? He didn't understand any of it really. But because of the difference of beliefs between Damien and McCloud, Lisa-Joe Hampton was supposed to be she was off limits politically.

Don't get cocky, asshole. But he didn't seem to listen to his own advice. He was having such a good time, finally. What was the harm in enjoying the game so far? She was good-looking, terrifying, and he was single. It was a perfect match.

Pierre took his time coming back to the game, cigarette between his first two fingers with the tip facing into the palm of his hand. He rocked on his heels for a second, digesting his next move on the table and with the red-head. With slow precision, Pierre walked around the table, enjoying entering into her space as she had done to him, but keeping his eyes - wisely - on the table as if it were the only thing in the room. He found an angle that he liked and set up for the strike at a human's pace. As the table wobbled in his vision, he measured the distance from the tip to the cue ball, adjusted his angle. He could feel Lisa-Joe's eyes on him.

"So," the Frenchman said after lining up a shot, sinking another striped one into the pocket to the left, scattering her solids into a slightly harder to reach angle. "What is it that brought you to this pool table tonight with me, Lisa-Joe Hampton? What pissed the lady off?" He aligned himself for his second shot, choosing to target the 11 ball - the one closest to her current position - and taking a provocative kind of aim.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

Damien. Nikolai. Pierre. Quinn. Zoheret. Levinia.
Isolde. Guillaume.
Kendrick.

Offline Billiam

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #13 on: February 11, 2019, 03:32:16 PM »
He had style. He was annoying, bold and a man, but despite this she was warming up to him a bit, and when he invaded her space she let him, resisting the urge to give him a shove back. As their body's almost touched she flexed her arms, almost wishing he'd want to fight her. As he lined up his balls, she studied him. The Keeper had been looking at his line up, but noticed his hands. They were large and rough, and she had a brief image of those hands and hers, in some test of strength. She worked her gaze up his arm to that cute, but stupid, face of his. When he took his shot, she scowled and cursed a bit, smacking her leg since she knew hitting the table was off limits. Her smile gave way to a steely pout and she studied the board intensely. He had some skill. Well, la dee da. She'd get him in the end.

Lisa had been so focused on Pierre's eventual demise that she almost missed his question. Jake had pissed her off. He'd made a call she didn't like, and it had been two in short order. First there had been hiring that man child wanna-be asshole Lazarus. Lisa-Joe knew a yellow belly coward when she saw one, and that little Nancy had all the makings of one. Besides, he could never be loyal to the Anarchs. He couldn't be loyal to anyone. Then there was tonight. She didn't want to think about that just yet.

As he lined up the shot, she stretched out her abs, throwing her arms back and cracking her sternum, letting her crop top rise to new heights, and showed the Frenchman a fair amount of flesh. If it would influence his shot she didn't know. It didn't hurt to try though. She continued her stretches post shot using the pool cue now to get some leverage.

"I got into a fight at work," she answered, tone indicating some hostility about it remained. Jake's smug little boy face popped into her vision and her mind's eye slugged him right in the jaw.

Take that ya little shit.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.


Prince~Harpy~Two-Face~Legend~Satanist~Spy~Wolf~Huntsman~Slayer~Rodent~

Offline Saiketsu

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Re: Bank Shot
« Reply #14 on: February 11, 2019, 11:51:11 PM »
He almost didn't hear what she had said, what with the stretching and all. As best he could, he kept his eyes on the game in front of him, though still enjoying the view presented. So she knew he was watching her. What gorgeous woman didn't? He would let her stretch, not bringing up that the undead had no actual need to stretch now - that would ruin the show.

"Sorry to hear that," Pierre said after he landed one more ball with a quick jab of the pool stick. The eight ball came terribly close to the side pocket after making the 9 ball ricochet off into an unhelpful position between the side and corner pocket, touching the side bank. "Ah fuck," Pierre said to himself, looking at the table. His is only move now was to just place her balls in a most inconvenient way.

"So what kind of work do you do that's got you fighting with your boss metaphorically through a pool table? And better yet, are you gonna take that out on me?" He smiled openly at her, stubbing out his cigarette after taking the last drag.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.

Damien. Nikolai. Pierre. Quinn. Zoheret. Levinia.
Isolde. Guillaume.
Kendrick.