» feeling just short of sober

[fuckyouboots]

Who: Cindy and Irene
What: Drinking like the badasses that they are
Where: After Dark
When: After dark! ...hahaha
Warnings: Cussing and sexual references, most likely. We're dealing with Cindy and Irene here.

Free stuff is something Cindy never turns down, especially free alcohol. At least the company's worth it--Irene Adler--and there's no pressure to put out at the end of the night. With her hair up in a low chignon and in her nighttime best, Cindy camps out at the bar both to keep an eye on the door and the other on the bartender who keeps grinning at her like a lovesick fool. Men. Her ears are perked to any overheard comments and business deals she can use for leverage in the future.

Even when she's out for fun, Cindy is working. It's just how she gets off.

Comments

[fuckyouboots]

"Depends," Cindy says as she slips a cigarette between her soft pink lips, "Am I going to have to stroke your ego by calling you Mistress?" Ah, yes. Cindy has been doing her research on Irene. It would be dumb of her not to. What an interesting line of work and all it does is make Cindy more curious about what makes the woman doing it tick.

Not to mention, whipping the shit out of people gives Cindy a little thrill. But that is neither here nor there. Back to the company at hand.

"Seems like you're a tough bitch to crack, doll." She points at Irene's bruises with a certain amusement. A woman who cares about her appearance showing them off like that must want to send a message.

[thedominatrix]

"No one's managed yet," she agrees, going so far as to point her toe to admire one of the bruises on her left thigh, glancing back up at Cindy with a rather wicked smile.

"I actually don't like being called Mistress, as it happens. It's too...typical. And impersonal. My clients call me Miss Adler."

[fuckyouboots]

"Not for lack of trying, obviously," Cindy chuckles, turning fully to face Irene, legs crossed at the thighs. Her dress is riding up, giving the bar a nice show of smooth, bruiseless, scarless skin. Another benefit of being a Fable.

She smiles a little smugly for some insane reason before she replies. "I won't be calling you Miss Adler anytime soon." Or ever. People call her Miss, thank you very much.

[thedominatrix]

"Then 'Irene' ought to work, oughn't it?" she suggests cheerfully, not at all put out by Cindy's refusal to give in to her. Isn't that why she likes her so much, after all? Anyway, demanding what people aren't going to give is really just a good way to undermine yourself.

"I think people trying to crack you is a sign you're doing something right. Now. What are you having?"

[fuckyouboots]

"Or it could be a sign you're doing it wrong." Whatever it is, look at Cindy. She's scar-free. She should be doing it right, right? Yes, Irene, Cindy is.

"Screwdriver, heavy on the screw," she throws over her shoulder to the bartender while her eyes are still on Irene. "I like to go easy at first. Make them think I'll be nice."

[thedominatrix]

"Then take out the claws?" Irene finishes for her, a smile on her face and her eyebrows up.

And now she's wondering precisely how Cindy got away without any bruises, because she seriously doubts it's humanly possible, considering what Cindy seems to have been getting up to this past week. Of course, Cindy might not be human. There's always the possibility in Baedal.

As the bartender readies and hands over Cindy's screwdriver, Irene glances at him and opens her mouth- but he's already preparing a whiskey sour. "Oh, you're so good to me," she informs him lazily before returning her attention to Cindy. "Anyway. I think you're only doing it wrong if people ignore you, don't you think?"

[fuckyouboots]

"Maybe. Or the teeth. Depends on how I feel at the moment."

It's definitely why, but fuck if Cindy is just going to come right out and admit that to a Mundy. The only person who she's told is Ilde and it'll stay that way for a long while. Remy knows only because he knew her in another place. That will also stay that way. She doesn't care if they know she can shoot and stab. What she does care is if others know her true identity and job. Anybody can be called Cindy; only she can be Cinderella.

Irene is clearly a frequent flier in this place, probably a VIP to boot. Cindy makes a note of it as being one of Irene's usual stops. With the orange slice that garnished her drink in hand, Cindy breaks it half and spends a moment pulling the flesh of the fruit through her front teeth. "Ah, but if they ignore you, they'll never see you strike. Still works out in your favor."

...words, how do they work

[thedominatrix]

Irene raises her eyebrows and tilts her head, conceding the point. "Very true."

...though not for long, because Irene never lets anyone else be right for long unless there's something in it for her in the long run. For instance, most men love it when she nods in agreement with them, and she's perfectly prepared to if it gets her somewhere, but she doesn't enjoy it. That's another reason why it's a relief to talk to Cindy; she can be as sharp and unpleasant as she wants to be, and Cindy will return it with interest.

"Though I think if you're very clever-" and the implication is that she and Cindy both are "-you can catch people's eye when you want it and still avoid their suspicion when it's necessary."

[fuckyouboots]

"However," Cindy begins as she sips her drink far too casually for this conversation, "If they continue to look at you with that eye, sooner or later, said eye will turn suspicious so why start trouble when there doesn't need to be any?"

That's always been her key to any lock. Don't start trouble when it doesn't call for it. However, Cindy's definition of trouble is definitely different from other people's. Her definition just stands for 'don't let the Mundies see'.