The Black Market

[Ubaldo Piangi]

Le Marché Noir

Of all the shady establishments in the slums of Paris, none looks nearly as respectable as Le Marché Noir - The Black Market. Considering its seedy appearance, this should give one an idea of how bad the rest of the area is. The Black Market is very aptly named; while it appears to be nothing more than a run-down pawn shop, it is quite a bit more. Though the innocent can purchase simplicities such as clothing and toys, those who know can get all kinds of black market goods within the walls of the store. Everything from drugs to weapons to illegally imported media is available - for a high price.

1. No spamming and follow proper RPG rules.
2. For the time being you may be in more than one thread at a time.
3. When this thread reaches 200 a moderator will start the new thread.
4. Have fun and enjoy!

[Henri]

Henri Ferino

Henri Ferino wondered the backstreets of Paris lost. He had gone out to get some lunch and on trying to find his wat back to the Opera Popilaire he must have gone down the wrong. He was now in a dark area of town, thugs and theives seemed to thrive here. The only buildings around were a few small apartments, cheap resturants, and stores with only a few items shown through their windows.
Henri remembered being told to stay away from this place but now he didn't seem to have a choice. He wondered down the streets wondering were the Opera House was. Then when he turened down the street he noticed a store that seemed to be still open. he walked in hoping their would be someone in the store to give him directions.
The door opened with a creack and Henri stepped onto the dusty floor. The dust flew up making him cough. He looked around the store all that was their was a few pre-owned clothes and toys. In annother section he uncovered some plain rings, necklaces and pocketwatches.
"Hello?" he said kind of loud. "Is anyone here?"

OoC: Henri, when making a post in-character, please remember to put your character's name in bold at the top of the post. ~U.P. BIC:

[Daroga]

Jean Sauveur

Wealth had a very peculiar effect on people. And the effect was as varied as the number of people who acquired it and the ways in which they did so. For some it caused them to hoard, for others it inspired them to spend. For Jean it enabled him to refine his tastes with the ability to open all options to him. As such he knew what foods he liked and where the best places were to get them, he knew what kinds of cognac he liked to drink and would pay the money for the premium very old selections, if he wanted to buy jewelry he had an account at Cartier... But when he was for something a bit more discreet and bit less respectable he also knew where to come.

This particular black market facility was what Jean perceived to be the best of it's sort in Paris, and he knew his underground dealers almost as well as he knew his French wines. The owners were shrewd and tight lipped. They didn't ask questions and offering your name was likely to get you thrown out (an admirable trait to him). It was how he liked to do business, simply and efficiently. So usually when he walked through these doors he knew exactly what he wanted and exactly what he was willing to pay for it. But today was different.

Jean wasn't one to shop just for the sake of spending money, especially in a place like this. But today was different. He was restless. The problem of being with a woman like Manya and her different moods was being compassionate and patient enough to let her do whatever she wanted to do, when she wanted to do it. But patience had never been his long suit. And the thoughts of what she was doing or what could be happening to her was picking at the back of his brain in a most annoying manner. So he had assigned himself this task. She wanted him to teach her his trade then the proper equipment would be necessary. He wasn't going to be giving her anything from his own precisely pruned and accumulated collection and the material wouldn't be sufficient. So instead he perused this dark store in the dark side town, stalking up and down the aisle and ignoring the perturbed look of the proprietor who had recognized him and expected him to walk to the counter and place his order immediately upon entering, trying to decide where to begin his newest educational venture and ignore the nagging thoughts that plagued him.

[WanderingChild<3]

Jade Jolie

Luxuries that most women of Paris had, was unknown to Jade. She didn't wear the expensive furs, or carry around the most fashionable of purses, and it wasn't that she didn't want too; it was because she couldn't afford any of it, and frankly, she never would be able too. She hated those rich pompouse *****es, so really, it didn't trouble her, that much. As long as she had shoes to wear, accesories for her Rouge costumes, and clothes to wear (and for the men to take off later), she was happy. There was nothing like the underground economy, a.k.a- the Black Market. It was where she would do most of her shopping, and everyone knew her well- very well, which mean she would usually get great deals.

The "dark side" of town, was always fun for Jade. You meet a lot of interesting people. Not your normal Paris people. The people who are really badass, and usually have something wrong with their brain or some sort of attitude problem. At least that's how she saw it. You barely saw any women anymore, since they were scared, but she thought that was a bunch of bull****. Of course, Jade thought herself a true badass, so that could have been as to why. Though, she came across someone rather...interesting on this particular day. Maybe, "sexy" could be the adjective she was looking for. Well, all she knew, was there was a tall, dark, and handsome pacing up the aisles. She saw him from the counter, and watched him closely. She had never seen or met him before, but she was positive she would be changing that rather soon.

Jade bit her lower lip, eyeing her prey, until finally she decided to make her move. Striding over to the aisle he was in, she wondered as to how to get his attention. He looked, sophisticated, and quite out of place in this run down shack. Being the outspoken person she was, Jade folded her arms, leaning against the shelf, a few inches away from him, and half smirked, making sure her posture was appealing enough. "Whatsa' guy like you, doin' at a place like this, eh?" Came her sudden question, tilting her head up so she could get a good eyeful of his face when he turned around.

[Daroga]

OOC: Sorry for disappearing last night my ISP decided Sunday at 6 am was a good time to do system maintenance BIC:

Jean Sauveur

Just because Jean was distracted, both with his task and his thoughts, did not mean he was unaware. In fact on this side of town it could be deadly to not be constantly certain of ones surroundings. And be observant was one of the things Jean prided himself on. Thus he had seen her walk in. She was attractive, tall thin with alluring features. None of those things were what he was in the market for, it was simply an assessment before going back to his perusals. There was nothing really on these shelves that was going to be sufficient for his needs. But he knew that what he was in the market for was mostly likely nestled away in the back of the store. Problem was making up his mind on what exactly it was that he wanted.

Far more interesting than any of the trifling good on the shelf though was the fact that he was being watched. He didn't look up at her but from his peripheral vision he noticed that she was standing by the counter, not moving and not calling for the proprietor. But as she moved into the aisle he was standing in he made a particular point for find a box of scarcely labeled medicine rather intriguing. "Whatsa' guy like you, doin' at a place like this, eh?" she said rather bluntly after stopping just next to him.

Jean paused for a moment before looking up at her rather painfully slowly. She leaned jauntily against a shelf staring at him blatantly with her head tilted. In return Jean appraised her as equally openly, looking her over slowly and silently from head to toe before resting his gaze on her face smiling bemusedly. A guy 'like him' belong in places like this probably more so than many others. But her assumption was a common one, and a sign that he was good at what he did, he took it as a compliment and was likewise amused. "I was looking for the library," he said sarcastically before looking around the store and leaning in slightly to say with mock innocence, "Why do you think I'm in the wrong place?"

[WanderingChild<3]

OOC: No worries! BIC:

Jade Jolie

The gentleman seemed to be taking his time, turning to meet her seductive gaze, and Jade watched in almost anticipation for what he would respond with. Bingo... The man was indeed, handsome. Though, she preferred to use the adjective "sexy", and this man was the definition. She always prefferred men with dark hair, and dressed like they were a hitman, or in some dark business. It made him all the more mysterious and thrilling. At the moment, Jade was thrilled, watching as his eyes checked her out from top to bottom. The mischevious smirk that had twitched on the corner of her lips, only grew wider at this. She didn't mind at all when men did this, by all means- have a look at what she had to offer. It was obvious that he had liked what he saw, when he returned to her eyes, a rather amused smile of his own becoming visible on those lovely full pink lips of his. Yes, Jade had a thing for lips too. Well, she had a thing, for everything."I was looking for the library." Came his velvet response, in a sarcastic like tone. She rose her brows, grinning madly now, appreciating that he had a sense of humor. It was hard to come by these days. Jade gripped the edge of the shelf, wondering what he was going to do next, as he looked around the store. He leaned in closer to her, which she was gratefully pleased that he did, and she could smell his sweet scent, which made her all the more intruiged."Why do you think I'm in the wrong place?" He asked fakingly innocently.

Mocking his movements, Jade straightened herself, scanning the store. She then bit her lower lip, as she leaned in, so they were now only inches away. Hunching over, she made it so her bossoms were now rather exposed, pulling out all the moves now. "Well, I could think of worse places you could be in," She purred suggestively, "But I really don't think ya' could handle it." She challenged seductively, allowing herself to lean in even closer, so their lips were almost in brushing distance. She teased him for a moment, and slowly pulled away, deviously eyeing him still.

[Daroga]

OOC: Sorry to start this scene just before my anti-social break and the ending on this feels a bit weak to me but I hated making you wait much longer... BIC:

Jean Sauveur

This was admittedly an odd place to find light hearted amusement, but in days such as this he would take it where he could find it. And at this moment voluntarily becoming the bait in this woman's rather overt game of cat and mouse was as intriguing a prospect as was available. And thankfully it seemed she was equally willing to play along as her long smooth neck stretched to likewise scan the store in a mocking impression of his gesture. Jean's smirked widened in appreciation. When her search yielded as little result as his did she bit down lightly on her full lips and leaned in close, both creating an illusion of conspiracy and offering him a rather intimate view of the curve and proportion of her breasts. Had this been an introduction in a more polite setting Jean would have refrained from looking, no matter how tempting. But as this was as far from that world as possible he did allow himself to enjoy the view, not ogling pervishly but apprecitively. He half excepted her to make a quip about it, calling him out on the fact that he wasn't being very gentlemanly or an overt blunt offer. But that was another woman, brass and unhindered.

"Well, I could think of worse places you could be in," she purred suggestively and his gaze rose to met hers with a single eyebrow cocked questioningly. "But I really don't think ya' could handle it." She stated in overt challenge. He had to wonder for a moment why so many women seemed to think that the easiest way to manipulate him was via his ego. He wouldn't deny that it was more often than not an effective method as even now he was tempted to challenge back that she truly had no idea the vast range of things that he could handle. But it did lead to the query of what about him it was that made this the most obvious method. Not that it matter greatly at this moment as she leaned in close, very close. But as her lips whispered against his, a hair breath from being dangerous, Jean held his place leaving defiantly, but allowing his mind to wander.

His lazy internal musing pondered if women like this were better classified as the snake or the apple on the road to forbidden enlightenment. But as she pulled away he was forced to question if it was truly denied. It wasn’t as though he’d made or expected any woes of fidelity in his other mind twisting and sheet tangling involvement. That still didn’t keep him from feeling vaguely guilty at his inclination to impulsiveness. But the polarity of his spirituality and his actions often lead to the most enjoyment from those things that he felt this guilt for. A wicked smile curled his lips at the rationalization. “That’s quite a pity,” he said in a low tone of disappointment, “that you would think so little of my abilities and what I could handle.” Brazen he reached forward slowly, as deliberate in his movements as his gaze that remained fixed on hers as his long fingers landed lightly on her shoulder. Almost distractedly his eyes slid to the digits as they traced a light, and slowly wandering trail across her mocha skin, “What would you think a suitable pastime for someone as hindered as me?” he asked as innocently as he could muster though his smile and the gleam of his eyes belied his own dangerous musings.

[WanderingChild<3]

BIC: Sorry if this isn't the greatest post. My muse is acting funky today.

Jade Jolie

She didn't know how he was going to respond, or what was to happen next. Which, was most peculiar for Jade, hence she usually could read people fairly well, all due to the fact she delt with all sorts of interesting men at the Rouge. This man, she could tell, was completely different from the rest. He wore some sort of mask, not allowing you to know exactly what he was thinking, but the twisted and mischevious twinkle in his eye, always kept you on edge. By this time, she would have him all figured out. As she stood only inches from him, she could only watch him ever so closey, the still devilish smirk on her lips, as she awaited for the next move."That’s quite a pity,” He mumured in a tone of dissapointment, and she felt her fingers which were grasping the end of the shelf, only slip off at how close he became. "that you would think so little of my abilities and what I could handle.” In one swift forward movement, his fingers trailed alongside her shoulder, but Jade kept her fixated gaze on his eyes, attempting to make it seem that his single touch had no effect on her. Though, it almost knocked the wind out of her as how haunting his touch and voice seemed to her."What would you think a suitable pastime for someone as hindered as me?” He inquired, that same dangerous spark gleaming in his eye. The question sounded mockingly innocent, and suggestive. At this point, she couldn't possibly keep from grinning.

Jade hadn't an idea of what his intentions were. Just some innocent, mischevious flirting, or the real deal? Usually, she would never care about the others' persons thoughts, and just have her way with him, but this particular man didn't seem the one to be ordered about. She would have to tred carefully with this, and make only small moves, until she reached the point of knowing where they were going with this.

Pushing off her hand from the shelf, she took two steps to him, so now they were inches apart. Slowly, Jade slid her hand up to his chest, beginning down his stomach, in almost a teasing seductive manner. Grinning, and searching for his reaction, she tilted her head up to his, cocking her head to the side. "I could tell ya'," She began in a husky mumur, letting her eyes linger down, giving him the eye once again. When she met back with his eyes, she shrugged, "But I'm better at showin'."

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: Easy will be meeting Calvin here. I apologize for the delay. Between the flu and connection problems, I haven't been able to get here till now. I'm determined to get started!! BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy was uncertain why he had not entered this shop before as he was not unacquainted with pawnshops. Of course, here in Paris there had been no need to deal with pawnbrokers, not that he needed to now. Wearing full Alleycat regalia of tattered jeans and jacket, a holey Slut Puppies T-shirt and his treasured though battered Adidas, he carried more than enough in his pockets to buy out what glittered within the glass cases that he was strolling by now, hands locked behind him so that the man would not be so on-edge about what a streetboy was doing in his domain. Bending slightly at the waist, he studied the rings, watches and other items, curious about their history.

Finally, he nodded at a cameo, bringing the shopkeeper to him, knowing the man did not expect a sale. The exchange of a few words assured him that language was no problem. He asked about the owner of the brooch, whether he or she would be back for it~which seemed to puzzle the man, as if this was some sort of trick. Sighing, Easy tried to explain that he wanted to make good for this pawn ticket and others so that the owners could retrieve their possessions. He was not ready for the explosion from the man, as if he had suggested something highly criminal though he suspected this place was a focal point for shady activities.

At last, the hands came from behind his back as he waved them about, trying to calm the man. "Forget about it, man!" So much for his dreams of good deeds... Still, he wanted some of the items. If the owners couldn't have them back, surely he could find them better homes than this. Would it be considered chintzy to give them as gifts? Or, was he liberating them? As he continued studying the offerings, others came and went, with occasional round trips by the broker to the back of the store. Without looking as if he was paying attention, Easy had noted the goings on, all the while careful about not looking anyone in the eye.

OOC: I hope that's a satisfactory start. If not, just let me know, and I'll try to rework it. BIC:

[angelofthenight]

Calvin Booth

Calvin had heard stories of the black market but he'd never actually been to the place that had been such a legend in his childhood. He'd once asked his brother what the black market was and David had told him that it was a place that sold things that were illegal and that you couldn't buy anywhere else. Then in Social Studies in eighth grade he'd learned about how people had been trying to sell babies on the black market and that was the frist time he'd really gotten an idea of what the black market was. Of course it had never really prepared him for the real thing. He'd always imagined everything to be black, hence the name.. or course that had been in high school.. he hadn't thought about it s of late until Rebecca came up to him and told him that their case entailed one of them.. or both.. going to the market and asking questions of specific people. Calvin had seen Rebecca's eagerness to go check it out but then he'd stepped and said that it woudl be safer for him to go because there coudl be trouble and unless she went with him he would not allow her to go. She'd seemed upset at first but had relented and said that he could go by himself, obviously the thought of wandering around the black market with him breathing down her neck wasn't appealing to her.. so she'd told him she'd investigate some suspect aroudn the 'safer' part of the city and they'd meet up at noon to discuss what they'd learned.

Calvin couldn't help but wish that she'd come with him, now that he was actually here in the eerie pawn shop that contained a bunch of stuff that Calvin knew for a fact was being illegal pawned off as something that was perfectly respectable. Calvin meandered through the store, eyeing a couple things with curiousity and wondering what kind of journey they'd had in order to end up here in teh black market. Calvin looped his thumbs through his belt lopps as he stood in the middle of two aisles. He glanced around at the contents of all teh shelves and then something caught his eye. It was a figurine of an angel that looked like Cupid, the angel had a bow and an arrow and from the look of it, the arrow was sharp enough to penetrate someone's skin. Calvin wondered if it was possible if Rebecca would find this helpful.. he knew that neither of them had imformation on the body that had been found but he was sure that they could ask around and figure out if it was possible that the murderer had sold the murder weapon to the black market in order to cover up what they'd.. possibly over remorse for killing them.. or the fear of getting caught.. it didn't matter to him.. he just wanted to figure out if his notion was correct.

Calvin straightened and slipped his hand into a plastic glove, trying to make the glove discreet as he carried the figurine to the front where a young boy stood in front of the counter with the broker looking over him, as if assessing what he was looking at and trying to be sure that he wasn't doing anything to it. Calvin approached and had to stop when he realized that the boy standing at the counter was none other then Easy Tanner, the child theyd' been asked to investiage and the outcome of said investigation had almost ruined his and Rebecca's partnership. He set the figuriend down but coudln't take his eyes off Easy as he whispered something to broker that Calvin didn't catch. Obviously it upset the man for he yelled at Easy something about how he must be insane. "Forget about it, man!" Easy yelled back and then as everything began to quiet down Calvin motioned for the broker to come over to him. He could feel eyes on him and he was certain that Easy was watching him. Great. The last thing he needed was for Easy to try and distract him while he was trying to work. Calvin motioned for the man to follow him, mindful that Easy coudl be watching him but he didn't care.. the investigation was more important at the moment anyway. Calvin showed the broker his badge and he saw the broker pale at the sight of it.. obviously he didn't want police in here.

Calvin figured he oculd use this to his advantage and verys seriously he explained that what he was doing was illegal and that Calvin could very easily have him arrested. The man was about to protest when Calvin lifted a finger and said rather casually that he wouldn't have him arrested if he let him take the figurine he was holding, he didn't say anything else, he shouldn't have to explain to the man that he needed it for a murder investigation then he was sure that he wouldn't be getting anything from him. The man quickly agreed and Calvin thanked him with a smile, though he was sure there woudl be more investigations to come. Calvin turned on his heels and headed for the exit then stopped he saw someoen slip something into their pocket. The boy looked to be the same age as Easy and Calvin wrestled with hismefl for a moment. Stop the teeneager from stealing and risk blowing his cover to everyone in the store.. or let him go.. and risk being fired for not doing his job.. he woudl rather deal with the first option so without even thinking he set the figurine down and walked up to the fellow. "You know its agaisnt the law to steal.. now hand them over..' he said seriously, and the boy emptied his pockets of rings and handed them to Calvin. He carried them back to the front of the store and handed them to the broker. He was aobut to leave again when the broker called with a smile, obviously knowing what he was doing. "It was a pleasure agent Booth..." and then Calvin stopped, and realized that his cover had been blown.

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

About the time he and the man behind the counter were having their failure to communicate, others had entered the shop, including another youth who had clumsily stolen some trinkets that wouldn't do him much good, Easy was certain, because anything worthwhile was under glass, while the truly valuable items would be somewhere in back, either in a safe or locked away somewhere else. There also was a tall man who now stood next to him, the scent of him telling the youth that he didn't belong in this place, not that he himself fit in as completely as he might have had he foregone such civilities as bathing. He was spoiled now, accustomed to being clean though his ragged clothes put on enough of a show to make him look as if he belonged. Being blessed with excellent peripheral vision, he could see the man flashing something at the broker, and he knew body language enough that one thing came to mind: cop! Just the thought sent his heart racing from pure habit though there was no real reason he should panic. He remained very still, so as not to attract attention, not moving till the man began walking out of the shop carrying the statuette he had shown to the man behind the counter who now was sweating so profusely that one might have believed Paris was being hit with a heatwave. The tall, dark-haired man who suddenly seemed familiar to him had stopped the boy-thief but did not look as if he intended to haul him to whatever station he might report.

Then, he noted the little man's smile, an expression tinged with maliciousness, as he called out loudly enough for all present to hear, "It was a pleasure, agent Booth..."

Easy had turned in the direction of the retreating man-in-suit, and his own shocked expression seemed to match that on the man's craggily handsome face. It was apparent that he had not planned to be "outted" in this district. And, Easy just as obviously had not expected that the cop had turned out to be "Mr. Moulin Rouge"!

"Where's the bimbo?" he demanded, smirking, leaning against the counter, aware that he was distressing not only the broker but also the tall, rather fierce-looking man. "The one hangin' all over you all the time?" he amended, as if the man regularly supported such females. Inside, he was astonished that he had had the nerve to challenge the man, and his heartbeat hit hyperspeed at his daring. "Or, is she a cop, too?" It would never have dawned on him that anyone would be assigned to watch him. He supposed it was merely coincidence that their paths had crossed.

[angelofthenight]

Calvin Booth

Calvin felt so vulnerable when his cover was blown, it was why he'd chosen to be a sniper. His main goal was to keep hidden, to hide behind the ridge line and take out targets as he was directed. But working as a cop was a completely different story. Cover was a cop was a matter of convenience, of getting things done and he knew that if you cover was blown it wasn't a big deal you just couldn't get things done as easily or discreetly anymore. Calvin had known that coming into the job and he knew that now... but still.. having hsi cover blown, having that little convenience gone made him feel extremely vulnerable. Like a turtle without part of its shell.. he still had his gun which was his protection and his badge which was his status but the security of his position was gone and now everyone in the store knew he was a cop.. even Easy, who had turned his gaze on Calvin just as quickly as everyone else in the store would. The broker was smiling smugly, as if proud of what he had done and Calvin narrowed his eyes at the man, who knew if Rebecca was here she woudl already be yelling at him and it was a good thing she wasn't, they didn't need more of a scene out of this then it already was.

Calvin's eyes fell to Easy who was watching him with the shock on his face that mirrored how Calvin felt. He hadn't planned on the broker doing this but Calvin would get him back.. he'd promised him that he would not turn his store over tot he police if all went well.. and it was obvious.. that all hadn't gone well. Despite what the broker had done Calvin's gaze was focused on Easy and the American watched as the boys features changed from that of shcok to realization and then to sheer pleasure. "Mr. Moulin Rouge!" Easy exclaimed and Cslvin wanted to lunge at him, and cover his mouth with his hand, not that anyone else would know what he was talking about but Calvin hoped that maybe in the moment it would take him to cross the room over to Easy he would second guess his assumption. Of course the more logical side of him knew for a fact that Easy had recogniazed him and there was no turning back now.. he just had to be thankful that Rebecca wasn't there.. it woudl've been a disaster if she were and then Calvin woudl've had two shocked people to deal with.. he knew his partner would hear about this anyway.. but he'd rather handle Easy... and then her.. as opposed to handling them together.

"Where's the bimbo?" Easy demanded and Calvin coudl've hit him at that moment if Rebecca's words hadn't stopped him. You know how I hate violence Booth... she'd told him numerous times and it was those very repetative words that kept him rooted in place, his hands clenching into fists despite his firm resolve not to hit the negligent teenager. "The one hangin' all over you all the time?" This only caused Calvin's temper to flare more but he gritted hsi teeth and closed his eyes, picturing Rebecca's hurt face in his mind after he'd punched Polaris, no. He wouldn't go through that again, ever again. "Or, is she a cop, too?" he asked and at those words Calvin stiffened, he wasn't about to satisfy Easy's curiousity but the fact that Easy suspected it really bothered him. Did that mean he coudl guess that they'd been assigned to keep an eye on them. If that was the case then niether he nor Rebecca were going to get paid for the job at the Rouge and based on teh trouble it ahd caused them.. he beleived they deserved some sort of compensation for their problems. Calvin glard at Easy his mind working frantically to think of soemthing to say.. and then he caught sigh of the underlying fear in Easy's eyes.. and he knew exactly what to do.

"I suggest you watch your mouth Mr. Tanner..." Calvin warned calmly as he walked back over to the coutner, and leaned against it so that Easy was the only one that could hear him. Calvin's eyes, contrary to their naturally warm look were nwo cold and hard, almost threatening. "Though I may not do anything to you to enforce my advice I assure you there are people who would not hesitate..." he warned, knowing that Rebecca would likely have chewed him out by now.. but Calvin wanted ot play a mind game or two with him, see how he reacted to an old interogation room trick. "What are you doing here anyway?" Calvin asked seriously. "I didnt' think teenagers were supposed to be on this side of town.." he drawled, waiting fro the fear to come into Easy's eyes and replace the look of mocking pleasure tath still exsisted there. "You know I coudl have you arrested..." he pointed out as he pushed away from the counter, setting the angel figurine down on the counter and folding his arms across his chest. "and I'm starting to wonder why I shouldn't.. I'm sure you're not supposed to be hear.. and it seems to me that you're causing trouble with broker here..." Calvin said, motioning to the man that was watching the conversation a little ways off. "So tell me Easy Tanner.. what are you doing here?" Calvin asked, the question was more of a trick, he just wanted to make it clear to the boy that you don't mock a police officer.. it coudl get you into trouble.

[MystMoonstruck]

OOC: I apologize for taking so long to respond. My laptop has been zapping every post every time I've written it, even in the "safety" of my mailbox. Between that and medical tests, I'm now so far behind that people likely are giving up on me. Thanks for your patience. I appreciate every storyline! BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy knew he had no business acting so cocky, but he had come to the realization that he had the backing of lots of money, power and influence. Maybe it had come time for that to go to his head. If so, it certainly had taken long enough, he mused, supposing that this was perhaps one of the craziest times such assuredness should crop up. He was fully aware that the man he was confronting had a dangerous air about him, now that he had had another opportunity to size him up, this time sans ladyfriend. And, it definitely was to his advantage that he knew the man was a cop. He knew that he had been unable to hide his shock at the discovery, but it had not been difficult to allow Alleycat's attitude to enter the fray, especially once the man closed in on him, big hands closed into fists, a lethal glare seeming to warn the youth not to press him too far. But, when had that ever stopped him before? Getting physical with the guy seemed awfully tempting though he was willing to bet big that the man was as straight-arrow as they came. No doubt about it: The two of them were cops, and they were hot for each other. The full lips were smiling now, one of those offkilter grins that could charm or irritate, depending on the recipient plus his general attitude.

The grin did waver as the man spoke: "I suggest you watch your mouth Mr. Tanner..." Then, their gazes locked, and Easy tried to keep his tiger's-eye orbs steady though hearing his name from those tempting lips sent a shiver through him~one of excitement and apprehension. As the man leaned on the counter, the youth tried not to shrink back in any way. "Though I may not do anything to you to enforce my advice I assure you there are people who would not hesitate..." What people, Easy wondered, but he would not allow himself to respond~not just now. Besides, the man hadn't finished: "I didn't think teenagers were supposed to be on this side of town..." That caught Easy between pride in passing as a teen and the fierce flare of rebellion this man seemed to incite in him. "You know I could have you arrested..." the man said, now moving away from the counter, setting down the figurine he had badgered out of the shady-looking counterman. "and I'm starting to wonder why I shouldn't.. I'm sure you're not supposed to be here, and it seems to me that you're causing trouble with broker here... So tell me Easy Tanner.. what are you doing here?"

"First of all, thanks for the compliment, man. I'm flattered! Really I am! Teen? Yeah." Sweeping his fingers through his ebony tresses, he quickly gauged the distance but bided his time till just the right moment. "Arrested? All I was doin' is tryin' to pay the guy what the people got for their stuff so's they could have it back~for Christmas. Is that against the law? I mean, I could buy the stuff and try to track 'em down, but it seemed~well~easier to do it this way. Only that guy, he doesn't get what I want to do. Anyway, you were givin' him a rougher time than me over this..." And, he did it, the carefully positioned left hand lifted in another sweeping gesture, knocking the statuette off the counter with enough force to ensure that it smashed into the proverbial smithereeens as it hit the floor~hit being the operative word.

"Oh, man!" He didn't care if his acting distressed couldn't convince the most trusting individual. "I broke your stolen statue! Gosh! Sorry about that, Mr.~um~what is your name? I'll need it when I tell my~uh~patrons that you're harassing me. You're a cop. Wouldn't you call it that? Harassment of somebody who was only doing some Christmas shopping? And, how do you know my name?!"

[angelofthenight]

OOC: Sorry if its bad. I just woke up. BIC:
Calvin Booth

He was tempted to call Rebecca and elt her know that he was going to be later then he planned getting back to the station. Of course he really didn't want to bring her into this. He was sure that she had plenty to do relating to their current case and all so he simply tried to put Easy in his placew ithout causing to much of a scene. The only comfort was that he was a cop.. thus if the store clerk tried to calll the cops it would simply mean back up for him... and the American officer was sorely tempted to arrest Easy for various reasons. But since his conscious wouldn't allow him to arrest an kid for blowing his cover on an investigation he simply leaned agaisnt the counter and did his best to explain to the foolish adolescent that he coudl get in trouble for what he'd done. Calvin set the statue carefuly on the counter as well allowing his eyes to dart over to it every so often to make sure that it wasn't about to fall. If he didn't come back with the statue and gave it to the forensics lab to be fingerprinted and what not then they might as well close the case.. they wer all pretty certain tahta statue matching ghis description was the murder weapon.. and if they lost it.. there woudl be no closing the case.

After trying to intimidate the boy he asked him what he was doing here. If Easy hadn't just blown his cover Calvin probably would've left without a second thought of why he was there. but now.. now that he'd brought himself to the agent's atteniotn there was no overlooking him. "First of all, thanks for the compliment, man. I'm flattered! Really I am! Teen? Yeah." Calvin coudl tell a lot by peopel's body lanjguage and the way he was standing he looked as if he had everythign under control.. like he wasn't confronting a man with a gun. That was alright with Calvin.. after all Easy's patrons woudl be interested to know where he was spending his time and he was certain once they found out they would come and talk some sense into the kid. "Arrested? All I was doin' is tryin' to pay the guy what the people got for their stuff so's they could have it back~for Christmas. Is that against the law? I mean, I could buy the stuff and try to track 'em down, but it seemed~well~easier to do it this way. Only that guy, he doesn't get what I want to do. Anyway, you were givin' him a rougher time than me over this..." Calvin wanted to get int he boys face and point out that he was doing hsi job.. where as this kid was just be nuasance.. but at that moment the boy hit the statue and it started to fall toward the floor. Wihtout thinking Calvin moved his foot forward and allowed it to hit his foot, to some extent it woudl cushion the fall and it did enough that it only chipped in a couple places.

"Oh, man!" It was obvous the boy was not at all remorseful over what he'd done and that infuriated Calvin even mroe then if the statue had broken and been unusable.. the manners of youth these days really appalled him. "I broke your stolen statue! Gosh! Sorry about that, Mr.~um~what is your name? I'll need it when I tell my~uh~patrons that you're harassing me. You're a cop. Wouldn't you call it that? Harassment of somebody who was only doing some Christmas shopping? And, how do you know my name?!" Calvin coudln't help but smile at this. "Dont' worry your patrons already know my name I assure you..." he muttered as he picked up the statue and held it firmly in his hand. "They'l be hearing that you tampered with evidence for a murder investigations.. and that your spending your time in places like here..." Calvin's smile became menacing as he moved awayf rom Easy. "No wonder my partner and I were hired to watch you.. you just seem to attract trouble and now with that attitude of yours I"m not surprise... oh and tell me Easy..." he pasued, allowing a tight anxious silence to fill the space between them before he added. "Would they want to come bail you out of jail?"

[MystMoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy had to admit that he was disappointed that his "smooth move" had not ensured the destruction he had envisioned. He did not have a clue as to why the statue was of any interest and supposed it was intended as a gift for the woman he had seen in this man's company. He was disturbed that this man knew his name and, further, that he had mentioned patrons. The thought jolted through his body that Rafe Chancery and Jamil Mehmet might have sicced this rent-a-cop on him. His trail of expenditures perhaps had raised questions, and he wondered if he had intentionally dared his "keepers" to do something about it. Perhaps they had done that very thing. The shock had led to pangs of anxiety, a state he was all too familiar with, his insides twisting with fears as his moment of feeling untouchable was smashed to bits. His face a porcelain mask, the golden eyes now glittering, he could not stop the tremor that shook him as reality smacked him in the face.

"Don't worry your patrons already know my name I assure you... They'll be hearing that you tampered with evidence for a murder investigations.. and that you're spending your time in places like here..." As the man moved away, Easy found that it did not ease the growing panic that urged him to flee this place, to distance himself from this man and perhaps find some way to discover if he was, indeed, being investigated. The mention of murder sent his heart racing as he felt plunged into confusion. It was simply a statue in a pawn shop! The man was playing a cruel game with him. That was all~or so he wished he could believe. "No wonder my partner and I were hired to watch you.. you just seem to attract trouble and now with that attitude of yours I"m not surprise... oh and tell me Easy... Would they want to come bail you out of jail?"

At that, the youth broke out of the paralysis that had kept him frozen throughout the man's bating speech. He broke and ran, hoping to dodge past the man and lose himself on the streets, in some alley or abandoned structure, as there were many of those in this part of town. He simply wanted to be away from here!

OOC: I'm sorry that it's not much, but I knew that Easy would do this: run from a confrontation. There's too much of the streetboy in him not to flee instead of standing his ground. I hope that's not too disappointing. This is one terrified boy now! ~~ Easy has left the Black Market! BIC:

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

OOC: Rachel and Dorian. If possible, Rachel post first? BIC:

Santiago Ortiz ( http://s256.photobucket.com/albums/hh172/Rollergirl_0/Chambermaid/CExtra/CPromos/?action=view&current=COT36.jpg )

For once, Santiago was in La Zone Fonecée for Opera House business. It seemed like such a contradiction to mix the streets when Santiago took refuge after killing a man with the glittering splendor of his “real” job. But it didn’t’ bother Santiago too much. After all, the seedy pawn shop sold some of the cheapest furniture around and with a little elbow grease and stagehand magic—voila!—Santiago had a wonderful set for the Populaire’s latest opera that was well within his allotted budget. Santiago preferred to think of himself as resourceful or thrifty or responsible, rather than cheap or miserly. Besides, no one was likely to question the stage manager on his sources. As long as the show was aesthetically pleasing, as long as the budget was not gone over, and as long as everything went smoothly, no one would even care.

Perhaps, it wasn’t the fact that Santiago was looking for props and properties that made this excursion a little on the weird side. After all, Santiago had never had to consciously remind himself that his scavenger hunts were not dates. Until now.

That Rachel was with him made it hard enough for Santiago to focus. She was quickly becoming his favorite diversion and favorite pastime. Talking with her, laughing with her… She brightened even the dullest of moments. Santiago still thought back to their Cleaning Misadventures with a fond, wistful smile, whenever he loaded up the washing machine. And now, out and about with her, running errands suddenly felt like a lot more than just a chore. But, of course, Rachel probably didn’t see it that way. If she had seen it that way, this would mark date number three or five or something for them. Which was why Santiago was absolutely determined not blow things out of proportion. They’d gone out all over Paris and it had never meant anything. At least, not on both ends. Even knowing that made it hard for Santiago to keep things as professional as he wanted. Rachel’s skirt skimmed above her knees and Santiago caught himself more than a few times watching her legs, trailing a step or two behind to watch her walk.

He pushed open the door, holding it for Rachel partially to do the right thing, but mostly to sneak one last peak at her legs as she walked into the store. Immediately, though Santiago looked straight ahead. He had to keep his cool, had to stay professional. He needed to stop thinking about Rachel and Rachel’s legs, and start thinking about what he needed to buy tonight. He nodded curtly to the man behind the counter and stopped a few steps in front of the door.

“Rachel,” he said, his voice quiet, but a little harsher than he hoped. He still sounded like stage manager Santiago, though, which he supposed was a good thing. “Don’t say a word to anybody, don’t make eye contact, and don’t touch anything.”

If “professional” suddenly meant “bossy”, Santiago was doing a fantastic job so far. But as he ran the do not list through his mind, he realized how much of it applied to himself. Do not say a word about this potentially being a date. Don’t make eye contact with Rachel—or even look at any other part of her. And most of all: don’t touch anything.

[WanderingChild<3]

Rachel Day (http://media.tiscali.co.uk/images/galleries/tv/glee----before-they-were-famous/medium/gl_08_Lea_Sngl_0833_R1.jpg)

Le' Zonia Fonencay was like a completely different world! Rachel Day had the 'pleasure' (such sarcasm!) of visiting it once or twice, but today it seemed different. It seemed, so exciting! The sun was setting, and the light made everything seem better! Although, night seemed to make people prettier. Anyways! The first time she had been to this part of town, was, well- at a time where it was nothing but terrifying for her. Correction: Utterly terrifying. It was all dark, and everyone looked like mutant gargoyles or something. Of course, that was when she had just aided in murder, so everything seemed mutant-esque at the time. Now, it was just nice to see another part of Paris! It was so much more different. Rachel enjoyed different, and was excited to explore. Which was why she insisted Santiago take her along with him today. Insisted, meaning: pestered. Sure, the scenery should have made her a little on edge, but she was brave. Rachel Day could take it! Alright, so maybe she wasn't all that brave to face this town alone. In fact, most of her excitement bravery was because she felt safe. Why? Well, because of the man standing next to her.

Well, usually standing next to her, although Rachel noticed at times how he was behind her? Hum. Well, maybe he was just finally learning his place, and letting her lead the way! ... Well, something like that. Anyways, Santiago's presence, wherever he was standing, made her feel safe. Which, her independence was boiling- because she knew she could take care of herself. Still, no matter how independent the little actress claimed to be, after everything she had been through that summer, it was best that Santiago was with her. Lately, she wanted him with her a lot. The fact that the reasoning behind it wasn't just for her safety or protection, made her very confuzzled and flustered. It was beginning to become irking. Correction: Exceedingly irking. Every Broadway Love Ballad she belted in the shower- she couldn't stop but use emotional recall acting, and think about the Spaniard! First off, Rachel Day did not use emotional recall. She either used method acting, or just her way of acting. Secondly- first he was abducting her dreams, and now her Broadway musicals?! (Woops. Did she say dreams too?) Seriously. No one had the honor of intruding on Rachel's musical moments. Ergh. Santiago just managed to slither his way into everything.

“Rachel,” After just entering the door, Rachel spun to meet Santiago- who looked like, really serious. She knew that tone well, though. The tone he used with everyone around the Opera House. If he thought he was going to be macho Stage Manager Santiago to her, he was completely wrong! “Don’t say a word to anybody, don’t make eye contact, and don’t touch anything.”

Rachel squinted up at him, her hands firmly on her hips. Alright... so he went to macho Stage Manager Santiago.

"Gee, only if you give me a Scooby snack!" The joke was funny to her. Scooby Doo. Ah, she missed that show. Rachel perked up a smirk to her own wit, and then still staring at him... realized. "Oh." She groaned, rolling her eyes, and slumping over. "You're Spanish. You don't get it."

Rachel sighed, "Listen Santiago- I know how to behave. Just, go do your thing, and I'll be in-" She turned and pointed to the aisle in the middle, full of shiny stuff. She didn't know what it was, but.. it was shiny. What more did she need to know? "this aisle. Alright?"

Before her over protective Spaniard of a body guard could retort or go on some foreign tantrum, Rachel spun on her flats, and heading into the aisle.

[MystMoonstruck]

Dorian Grayson (http://i85.photobucket.com/albums/k76/cynsemele/Catalikes/eduardo75.jpg)

Dorian didn't believe in such things, but he sent silent blessings toward the new arrivals he heard enter the shop, his sharp hearing picking up a deep, accented voice and that of a woman, a very young one, he was certain. Whoever they were, they provided the distraction he needed in order to slip several medallions and other trinkets from the little carousel they hung on into a pocket, knowing that they would take up so little room as to be unnoticeable. Just in case, he pretended another sneeze, allowing himself to use a handkerchief that then was tucked into the necklace-bearing pocket. What he had taken amounted to very little. If they had been of any real value, they would have been under glass up front or in back in a safe. They would find new homes around the necks of past, present and future lovers, each presented with such sincerity that there would be no doubt how heartfelt the gift was. Who knows? Perhaps some of those mementos had made their way here, to be gifted again.

As for the medallions of saints and such: Religion seemed to be the first thing pawned to judge by the quantities that had accumulated here. Elsewhere, he had seen statuettes, icons and other items. Maybe in a hundred years, the stuff would have some value, but he and most of his world would be long-gone. As he was turning away, something caught his eye. In a basket of rings, obviously junk jewelry, baubles that could be bought for very little at stands on the streets and in tiny shops, he saw it, the tiny face staring up at him, challenging him to pick it up: a tiger ring (http://pictures.ezpics.net/Photos/Art/ezpics.net/appleby/Tigers/9.jpg?03304wtmMm2GsNa). It was like nothing he ever would wear, a not very well done trinket, its left paw holding what likely was a rhinestone. Dorian was not a sentimental man who held on to memories, but he suddenly recalled the masquerade, where he had been Monsieur Tigre to the very lovely Lady Sailfish, as he had dubbed her. For a while, she had looked at him as if he was someone of value, trusting blindly in his pretense. He had not meant it to mean so much to him, and he frowned for just a moment as he mentally reprimanded himself for doing what he must.

Without further hesitation, he scooped up the ring, not even knowing if it would fit, and had it nearly in his pocket when he was interrupted by the possessor of the voice he had heard earlier: a dark-haired girl moving toward him, surely seeing the theft underway. His pale jade eyes caught at hers, and he brought a hushing finger to his sensual lips, from which issued a subdued yet intense "Shhhhhhh!" At that, he deposited the tiger ring in his pocket, never taking his gaze off the girl, his look now touched with admiration. There was always time to consider what the world chose to bring his way.

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Santiago Ortiz

Don’t talk, don’t look, don’t touch. Simple enough instructions, but the instant they flew out of Santiago’s mouth he mentally kicked himself. Rachel was twenty-one years old; not five. Surely she knew how to behave herself…? And even if she hadn’t—especially if she hadn’t—Santiago would have expected her to stay near him on this side of town, regardless of how early into the evening it was. His tone had probably been laced with Rachel-repellant. Her hands flew defiantly to her hips and Santiago clenched his jaw waiting for the typical, scathing ‘you aren’t my boss when we clock out’ type of speech. The one where Rachel insisted that she was a grown woman and that she didn’t need to take orders from the likes of—

"Gee, only if you give me a Scooby snack!"

“¿Qué? “

Santiago couldn’t stop the question from shooting out of his mouth. Rachel looked so pleased with herself, so proud, with her wide smirk and bright eyes. Santiago searched her gaze and something like disappointment flicked in Rachel’s brown eyes.

”Oh." She groaned, rolling her eyes, and slumping over. "You're Spanish. You don't get it."

Santiago folded his arms over his chest. What was that supposed to mean? He was from Spain, not Mars. He may not have been a college graduate, but he wasn’t stupid. He narrowed his eyes and something slick and sarcastic about Americans danced on the tip of his tongue. Two could play that game… But Rachel’s sigh kept Santiago silent. He did not uncross his arms or widen his narrowed eyes.

"Listen Santiago- I know how to behave. Just, go do your thing and I'll be in-" She turned and pointed to the aisle in the middle, full of shiny stuff, "this aisle. Alright?"

Santiago sucked in a breath as he watched Rachel flounce off to the aisle. Tonight, he had enjoyed watching her skirt pull around her curves and the hemline flirt with her legs. But not now. Now, he had ensured that this was definitely—no ifs, ands, or buts—not a date. This was just Santiago running errands with Rachel in tow. Rachel, who evidently didn’t want to be near Santiago. Fantastic. In half an hour or so, he’d still be her ride home and they’d still be living together. Which meant that regardless of how angry she was with him, she’d still have to hold on tight as they zipped down the Parisian streets. She’d still have to share the sink when they brushed their teeth. Maybe then, Santiago could worm a smile out of her, win her favor back.

Maybe. Probably not. With his luck, Rachel would consider him a jerk for the rest of the week. And he’d still have to drive her places, see her at work, and share an apartment with her. Spectacular.

Rachel disappeared behind some shelves and Santiago felt an uneasy lurch in his stomach when she was not in view. Part of it, he knew, was that he missed her—and recognized that it was his fault she wasn’t at his side right now. Part of it, was the apprehensiveness about the rest of their evening, and possibly week. But Santiago couldn’t help but suddenly feel uneasy without Rachel by his side because he still remembered what side of town they were on. La Zone Fonecée did not welcome pretty, naive girls. The siren songs it may have had for girls like Rachel were nothing more than drunken catcalls from men rowdier than Santiago and more trigger happy. He’d spent his life in places like this. One wrong move and you had a knife to your throat or a gun to your head. And it was certainly worse for women than men in neighborhoods like La Zone Fonecée. If they had been at a chain warehouse in the Business District or a family owned and operated carpenter’s shop, Santiago wouldn’t have felt that the gun clipped to his hip was nearly as vital as it was now. He motioned to follow Rachel behind the display case, but stopped short.

If she wants to get in over her head, let her, an oily voice that sounded too much like Santiago for the stage manager to be entirely comfortable. You’ll be around if you feel like rescuing her tonight.

“If” was not a word Santiago shied away from. There were no guarantees in life. He knew that better than anybody. But the context in which it was used surprised him. Santiago was uncertain about so much in life and his feelings for Rachel were no exception. But until now, he had never given it a second thought that if she needed him, he’d be right there.

She hasn’t noticed why you do what you do, his thoughts continued. She doesn’t understand that you’re half in love with her. You always pick women who aren’t interested. Let this one go before you get in too deep, Ortiz.

A small, strangled noise escaped Santiago’s lips as he considered calling after Rachel and ignoring his doubts altogether. But he turned around smoothly and walked towards a display of old, rickety tables and chairs. If Rachel was going to be stubborn, that was just fine by him. He didn’t need her or her legs to make him happy. He had work to do. And for the likes of Santiago, that ought to have been enough.


OOC: Santiago is still in the shop, and I figured I ought to make him walk a little ways away so you guys can have at it for a bit. Lemme know if you want this changed! BIC:

[A_Single_Rose]

OOC: Para Santiago y Chianna! BIC:

Chianna Mimieux (http://www.listal.com/viewimage/1124493)

For the first time in a long time, Chianna felt suicidal.

She experimentally played with the shard of glass in her hand. There had been a broken bottle lying on the ground and she had picked up a sharp, black piece. It was sticky and reeked of intense, sour liquor. But she didn't care. All she cared about was the blade-like edge on all its sides. The little light that was lit inside the shop made the glass dully shine. The store clerk was somewhere in the back - or maybe he was at the front. She didnt' know. She wasn't paying attention. She didn't care. She wasn't even turned toward the front counter at the moment anyway.

The glass point grazed her hand, hard enough to be felt, but soft enough where it didn't leave a mark. The dull, easing pain made her hand tingle. She pulled out her cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke.

What are you doing? I don't know. Yes, you do. I'm going to do it. No, you're not. How do you know? Don't do it.

"Shut up," she muttered under her breath. The glass finally broke the skin. She didn't flinch, only took the glass away and looked at the tiny drop of blood on the back of her hand near the base of her thumb. Maybe one of her selves would say it looked pretty. It was so red and dark. It wasn't pretty. It was just... there. There was nothing special about her blood.

She didn't know why she was feeling this way. Maybe it was because she didn't know. This uncertainty was tearing her apart. Some days, it was manageable - almost to the point where she didn't even realize she had a "condition." Other days... other days, it was like this. It was like she felt her body in 30 places at once. It was like she felt her mind floating in front of her face so that she couldn't feel responsible for anything. What would she feel in the next hour? What would she feel in the next minute? There was too much uncertainty. This self didn't like the uncertainty. Her other selves could, but not this one.

I'm going to do it. I'm going to do it right here. There's still so much you can do. I'm going to go outside and do it. With that in your hand? Yes. There are better ways.

She was right. There were better ways. But she wasn't sure whether she cared or not. She just wanted to get it over with.

This was La Zone Foncee. People died here everyday. Knives, guns, poison, strangle, bullet, "accidents," club to the head... There were so many possibilities, so many ways to kill herself and get the misery out of her head. She hoped she'd be able to do it before one of her other selves stopped her. She took a drag cigarette.

Be more creative.

Yes, she was going to get creative.

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Santiago Ortiz (http://photos.exposay.com/Olivier_Martinez/olivier_martinez_0MB25.jpg)

There was only one arms-dealer in Paris Santiago trusted to keep mum about his purchases. He didn’t like shopping at middle-class pawn shops or going through the root-canal known as “gun registration” at the police office. Santiago Ortiz preferred discretion when he could get it. And there was no more discreet weapons-dealer than the run-down pawn shop in La Zone Fonecee.

Technically, Santiago already had a gun. He was looking to trade it for something else. Not necessarily something newer or more expensive… Just different. Hell, he’d buy the same model and make, as long as it was a different item. Santiago was ill-at-ease carrying around the spare gun he’d plucked off of Ignacio de Lorca’s dead body. Not because he had some moral hang-up about looting a corpse (that was normal in a gang). No, Santiago’s issue was that the gun clipped to his hip now had once been used in an attempt on Rachel’s life. He didn’t need a reminder of last summer hooked on his belt. He didn’t need to think of saving her life time and again after they were broken up. He’d never regret what he’d done; the saving, that was. He just didn’t want to remember it anymore. He didn’t want to still care.

Besides, his favorite gun was stored somewhere at Myron’s apartment and he wasn’t getting it back anytime soon.

He sauntered into the pawn shop with a quiet confidence. Santiago didn’t need to flash gang signs and holler out catch phrases to claim a piece of turf as his own. And as far as he was concerned, La Zone Fonecee was his stomping grounds, just as the Populaire or Le Marais. He had his hangouts, his favorite bars, and the places he called his around all three. This was just one of those places.

Santiago came to the rack of guns mounted to the wall and looked up at it with judicious eyes. He didn’t need anything big or flashy. Something simple that would get any job it needed to done. He chewed on the inside of his mouth and cocked his head. The selection was impressive for a back alley pawn shop, but he had yet to see anything he liked.

Pity, he thought. I don’t want to look at the private storeroom if I can help it.

The best—often most illegal—merchandise would be in back. Santiago preferred to buy retail so that no one could pin down his activities as being against the law. Everything in the front of the store was reputably bought and pawned… Nothing ill-gotten. The stuff in the back, though…

Santiago’s inner gangster salivated at the thought of all the guns and knives available back there. Best condition, top of the line... Each weapon in back had a less savory tale than the last. And it was the quality that had Santiago itching to ask to see them. He doubted, though, that any gun of his would see too much use these days. He didn’t need to be extravagant…

You never know, he thought, still gazing at the display case. Something might come at you from nowhere…

[A_Single_Rose]

Chianna Mimieux

You know, Chianna didn't believe in a God. A long, long time ago - actually, it wasn't really that long ago - her psychologist had called her crazy. He would sit across from her with one ankle on the other knee. Long legs. The man had long, spider-like legs. And he didn't seem to mind when Chianna called him the spider doctor. He'd ask her questions. Sometimes she'd answer, sometimes she wouldn't. She hated the man. But week after week, Aunt and Uncle dragged her to the Spider. Week after week, Chianna's mind grew redder and redder until she left. She had given the Spider hell and had even broken some furniture. Soon, she left Aunt and Uncle. Her life was manageable now. Her life was manageable.

But her mind was wandering. She didn't believe in God. And she didn't really believe in chance. Everything was connected. Everything happened because someone told it to happen. That's the way it worked.

Chianna had a hard time believing this the moment Ortiz entered the pawn shop.

She had been fingering the sharp end of the glass when she saw the door open. She froze - but not in fear. It was simply out of shock and other feelings that set themselves in stone at the front of her skull. It was less real than anything she'd recently hallucinated. I'm dreaming. But she wasn't. Even if she was dreaming, she was going to pretend this was real. It probably was real, but she was going to pretend anyway. So what was she going to do? She didn't know, but her body seemed to know before her head did.

Chianna placed the glass down on a shelf and walked toward the counter, where her boss was now standing. What was he doing here? They had agreed never to talk about their last meeting, but here they were again. What could she do? She couldn't just leave. No, she couldn't just slink out of here and miss a perfect opportunity to-

She stopped and turned around, picking up the piece of glass again. It was almost involuntary, but she slipped it into the black cloth wrapped around her thigh. The skin gave way, but she didn't flinch. She would just let it bleed. Nothing mattered anymore anyway. That was why she was going on this suicide mission. Nothing mattered anymore, especially this slimy, salty thing called her "life." Her body moved forward silently and lazily like an undead being. She was now only a few feet away from the honorable and esteemed Stage Manager, who was looking at a wall of guns. Who gave a sh*t what he was doing here. Chianna didn't care. All she cared about was the fact that the Manager was looking especially dangerous right now. Perfect.

Chianna walked up beside him and put her wrist up on his shoulder, let her hand hang carelessly. She leaned against him with a smile she usually saved for her customers. Actually, it probably looked like the smile she gave him back at the Motel that one time. Her voice was smokey and as careless as her actions. "Come back to get your shin kicked again, monsieur?" The sarcasm could mean the death of her. She welcomed it.

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Santiago Ortiz

Santiago made up his mind. He’d just use De Lorca’s gun, conscience be damned. Rachel had carried it around at his request until Christmas when he gave her her own weapon. She hadn’t cried about it. He didn’t need to worry. He certainly didn’t need to think about Rachel this much. A gun was a gun was a gun. Just as he turned to go, light pressure dug into his shoulder. Santiago tensed up; knowing that in one swift move, he could turn around and shoot a potential attacker and call it a night.

"Come back to get your shin kicked again, monsieur?"

Santiago was loath to admit it, but he knew that smoky voice. He sighed. Chianna Mimieux was determined to make herself a thorn in Santiago’s side since their brawl in Nothing Special a few months ago. It wasn’t like Santiago had never dealt with worse.

“Oh, it’s you, Señorita Mimieux,” he said, shrugging so that her wrist slid from his shoulder. “Here I thought it might be someone important.”

He turned around with a lazy smirk and folded his arms. His eyes swept over the chorus girl with distaste. Her clothing barely covered her tonight; she was probably working the streets.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, tonight?” he asked with light sarcasm.

The Santiago Ortiz she encountered tonight was different than the one who considered slamming her skull into a barroom floor. He was also different than the stage manager who threatened her job. He was a bored, and mildly depressed gangster. Still a dangerous combination, but one not as ill-disposed as he had been when she tried to tempt him to infidelity or when she disrespected him in his office. In fact, a little verbal spar with Mimieux might be something of a release. If not, Santiago was sure he could find something else to entertain him in the run down pawn shop.

[A_Single_Rose]

OOC: Let's get this rolling again. BIC:

Chianna Mimieux

The cigarette hung off the side of her mouth. She messed with the tip of it with her tongue, tasting the bitter and the black. Her stance was laid back - as care free as anything in the world. There wasn't anything to worry about anymore. It would be all dark in a few minutes anyway if Chianna played her cards right. A dot danced in her head, walking across the soggy brain and skipping around the little cracks and canyons. It stopped at the front of her head, waiting, watching the show go on outside of this pathetic body.

Chianna smiled as she felt the Stage Manager's realization against her limp wrist. “Oh, it’s you, Señorita Mimieux,” Chianna smiled at his "warm" welcome as he slid her hand off of his shoulder. Here we go... “Here I thought it might be someone important.” She could here the blood in his voice. It pulsed before her grinning eyes, splashing her insides, washing over her with lovely coldness. She drank it up through her eyes, nose, ears. This and the cigarette's fading flavor in her mouth was making her thirsty. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, tonight?”

She took it out and blew a puff of smoke in Ortiz's direction. She had to drag this out. It had to be torture. It had to be good. If she was going to kill herself; she was going to enjoy it in the most terrible way possible. The waiting was building in her gut, filling like a bubble. It was going to keep growing as she kept this going. It was going to keep growing until she couldn't take it anymore. When that happened, it would burst and that's when Chianna would do everything in her power to make Ortiz kill her. But until then, she was going to have to wait.

Chianna took another drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke from her nose. She held the cigarette between her index and middle fingers up in the air and pushed herself up against the Stage Manager. "The pleasure is mine, monsieur." She pushed herself up toward his face, pulling the cigarette next to both of their faces. Chianna smiled and slid one leg up against his. "Care for a cigarette?"

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Santiago Ortiz

Señorita Mimieux blew a fat puff of smoke into Santiago’s face. A non-smoker would have sputtered and coughed; Santiago grinned. Her disrespect, like MaCarthy’s, wasn’t pleasant in the conventional sense of the word. But Santiago got a sort of perverse pleasure from it. Everyone else in the opera house either did his bidding or gave him a wide berth. He was respected, if not feared, in many places. Chianna Mimieux seemed to feel neither. Santiago took what changes of pace he could get when they came his way and he toyed with them. Irritating though she may have been, Señorita Mimieux was also entertaining. He watched as smoke billowed, dragon-like, from her nose. She lifted her cig between their faces.

"The pleasure is mine, monsieur," the Frenchwoman purred. A smile spread across her lips and her leg traveled up Santiago’s in a way that could only give him goose-bumps. "Care for a cigarette?"

“Aren’t you friendly tonight?” Santiago said, mildly amused. For his part, he was somewhere between apathetic, intrigued, and irritated by the girl standing before him. The intrigue and irritation were what kept him from skulking away with a shrug. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket an procured his own box of cigarettes. He drew one out and replaced the rest into his jacket. “A light, if you have one.”

[A_Single_Rose]

Chianna Mimieux

The Manager's leather was cold against her arm. It made her shiver a little, but she stayed where she was, loosely attaching herself to her boss. In the grand, high class, elitist Opera House, the Manager was her boss. Here, he was nothing to her. But was he nothing? No, he was a way out now. Last time they were here, they'd been a block away in a dirty motel. She remembered clearly her kicking his shin. She remembered his groan of pain. She remembered the look in his eyes. There was blood in those eyes and a pure, thick anger. That is what she wanted right now. That look. That look that made him seconds away from taking her life. She needed to spark it again. She needed it badly.

His reaction surprised her. “Aren’t you friendly tonight?” He wasn't annoyed? He wasn't angry? He wasn't murder-ready? Chianna blinked and her smile fell for a second. This wasn't right. This wasn't going in the right direction. She needed to work harder. Her smile came up again, forced and thin. She backed away a few inches as he reached into his leather jacket and pulled out his own pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and slipped the rest away. “A light, if you have one.” This Manager was a little different. There was something different about him. Something changed. Her little spectator in her head tapped her brain. It sounded like a quarter tapping against the street. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. She didn't like the sound. The only way to get silence was to make the spectator happy. Death would make the spectator happy.

Chianna's smile was stone as she reached down to her thigh. Her fingers lifted her black blouse to reveal a cheap black band of fabric around her left thigh. She pulled her lighter from between her thigh and the band and flicked it open in front of Manager's face. She looked at his face through the small flame, watching him catch fire before her eyes. The flames licked his crooked nose and burned out his squinty eyes. But she couldn't burn him - not yet. He still needed to do a job for her.

She lit his cigarette with a deft hand and then easily slipped the lighter back against her thigh. She could feel the piece of broken glass press against her other thigh. Maybe it was making her bleed. Maybe not. She couldn't tell anymore.

The cigarette between her fingers felt heavy. She placed it in her mouth and kept it there before turning toward the wall of guns next to them. So many possibilities. So many combinations could be made. A bullet through the leg so that she could bleed to death. Through the heart or the brain if she wanted a fast one. Her mind wasn't working properly. Her body was moving on without the brain. She was no longer thinking.

With a step toward the wall, she raised her hand and slid it down the racks, feeling the gritty material against her finger tips and palm. Her hand landed on a medium-sized gun at torso level. She wrapped her fingers around it and whipped around. She threw herself against Ortiz and pressed the gun under his chin. The cigarette in her mouth shook as she laughed, her body and her gun-holding hand shaking, too. "Bang," she made a gun shooting noise as she tickled his chin with the nose of the gun. Her laugh was dry and filled her throat. "I just shot you, Monsieur Ortiz. How does it feel?" Her mind wasn't working properly. She was no longer thinking.

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Santiago Ortiz


Santiago realized just how desperately he needed a change of pace when he was totally unsurprised by Mimieux pushed her clothes back to reveal three things: a black garter, a flash of red, and a lighter. He wouldn’t have even been shocked if she’d revealed even more in that devil-may-care movement. She flicked the lighter on and held it up between them. Santiago could feel the heat from the tiny little flame and he wondered for a moment if Mimieux was only taunting him. He cocked a brow wordlessly and put the end of his new cigarette to her light. He brought it to his lips for a quick drag. He would have savored the moment any other time, but tonight, he was watching Chianna Mimieux. Santiago didn’t trust the chorus girl. He hadn’t since long before he realized that she worked for him. But Santiago would be a liar to say she didn’t intrigue him. He seldom felt interested by other people’s after-hours activities. But Chianna came from a world, not unlike his own… One where you didn’t necessarily know where your next meal would come from or if you would even live long enough to get to that next meal. It sounded dramatic. But it was true. Gangsters, prostitutes… It didn’t matter. If you lived on the margins of the law, that was the way the worm turned. He took a second, this time slower, drag from his cigarette, watching as Mimieux moved to the rack of guns on the wall. Curious, Santiago lifted a brow and exhaled, temporarily putting her behind a grey smokescreen. In an instant, her entire weight was thrown to him and something cold and metallic pressed to his chin.

"Bang," Mimieux said with a throaty laugh. "I just shot you, Monsieur Ortiz. How does it feel?"

Santiago had bullet wounds. He could peel off his shirt and point out the scars to her and tell her exactly what it felt like to have the bone shattered and be damn lucky your friend had a cousin in med school who could use the practice. He could tell her that death had its own, special smell. Not stale, like so many people thought. It was metallic and tangy and salty; all red and grey. Sometimes blue-green as you tied bricks to a body to cast it into the ocean. He could tell her how sweet death had seemed only months ago, until he realized that the unknown was scarier than anything in this world.

Instead, Santiago chuckled.

“How do you think it feels, chiquita?” he asked, brown eyes shining with dark amusement. “Have you ever been shot?”

[A_Single_Rose]

Chianna Mimieux

She couldn't hold the gun still. Why? Why? She wasn't afraid or anything. No, why would she be afraid. This is what she was going for! And hopefully it would work and really begin to annoy him. Yeah, she needed that reaction from him. That look. That look he gave her in the motel. That look. She hadn't seen it at the time, but in those dark, serious eyes, she had seen her own death. Yes. Yes, she had seen it. Chianna bit the end of her cigarette as she smiled crookedly up at him. Her other hand gripped the collar of his leather jacket, pulling it desperately toward her. She was slipping. She could feel her feet turn to ice and melt and slip and slide away. The floor was gone, so she held on tight and looked into the Manager's eyes. Where was that look?! Give me that look, God damn it!

But the b*stard only chuckled. He was laughing at her. She wasn't smiling anymore. His chuckle was enough for the both of them. “How do you think it feels, chiquita?” She loosened her grip on his lapel. It wasn't working. Why in the hell wasn't it working? What was wrong with this man? What happened to the death in his eyes? Chianna bit down on her cigarette even harder so that it broke in two, falling down down down to the ground. “Have you ever been shot?” The gun shook a little harder in her hand, coming alive and crying as she held it and slowly pulled it away from Manager's chin.

No, that's why I want you to shoot me! Why was it so hard to die? Why can't I just shoot myself or stab myself or lunge into oncoming traffic? Because that is too boring. You're better than that. You deserve a more gruesome death, dear. I do. Yes, you do. That's why... I need this man to kill me. To murder me. Murder... It was such a beautiful word right now. Chianna was desperate for her. The spectator in her head was impatient. He wanted the show to go on. He wanted to see how it ended. He wanted to get his money's worth. Sitting up there, watching her fail at provoking Ortiz wasn't very exciting. She had to come up with something else.

Chianna pulled the gun away and spat out the end of her cigarette. It hit Ortiz's show and smirked up at him. "No, I have not been shot before. Unfortunately." She raised the gun to her eye level, holding it as if she were holding an expensive shoe by the heel. She ignored the warm trickle on the back of her calf as she cocked her head to the side to lazily examine the weapon. The thin stream was turning colder the farther away it traveled from the source. "Tell me, Ortiz." Her eyes flickered up at the man. Still no death in his eyes. The hand with the gun twitched. It wanted action. It wanted to feel a front hand swing connect with that chiseled jaw line of the Manager. It wanted to make an impression on that tanned skin and leave the mark of the butt of the gun on it. Ruin that handsome face. Wipe the chuckle away. Get the death back into his eyes.

So she went to strike him.

OOC: Sorry if that was a mess. If you want clarification or you want me to change this last bit, please go ahead and tell me BIC:

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Santiago Ortiz

It had been so long since a woman reached out to grab him that Santiago almost didn’t care that it was Mimieux, with a gun pointed at his face. It felt good to be this close to someone, talking about death and guns like the old days. There was a flash of madness in her eyes, so unlike what he dealt with every day since arriving to Paris, that it felt perversely good. It shouldn’t have felt good to have a gun brandished at you, but the way Mimieux’s fingers shook, the way she released him, told Santiago that he ought to still be on his guard, but just enough. He didn’t feel threatened. He felt sickly calm. That kind of happy you get when you do something you shouldn’t—knowingly. That satisfaction he got at upsetting others or stealing a smoke backstage or changing deadlines on MaCarthy. There was a rabid anger in Mimieux’s eyes, though, and she spat her cigarette at Santiago’s feet. Her ash and saliva slid down his boot.

“No, I have not been shot before,” she said, examining the gun. “Unfortunately."

Even Santiago wasn’t crazy enough to say “unfortunately” about never being shot. He was a little proud of every pock-mark from a bullet he had, but he never would recommend someone seek to get injured in a gunfight. He cocked an eyebrow at Mimieux, wondering if she expected his condolences—or a remedy to her “plight”.

"Tell me, Ortiz," she started. But, stopping to look at him, all the woman would find was lazy curiosity. Something snapped when their eyes met and she flew at him, gun still in hand. Santiago didn’t think to grab her wrist firmly, squeezing until the gun clattered to the ground.

“You don’t want to mess with me, chica,” he told her sternly. It was a fact; not quite void of malice, but not filled with it either. “So do yourself a favor and calm the hell down.”

[A_Single_Rose]

Chianna Mimieux

The gun, a magnet, flung toward the Manager. Her hand clung to it, following the clumsy arc, her eyes wide as she anticipated the smack of gun on skin. But her wrist hit a wall. The wall squeezed her wrist and her eyes squinted and her arm contorted in the shock of pain that shot down from her hand. It squeezed until she let out a yelp/grunt and her fingers opened, letting her little gun go. Chianna gasped and pulled hard against the grip, what she realized was the Manager's grip.

“You don’t want to mess with me, chica,” Her eyes shot up to his and she saw the glint. It wasn't a perfect fit, but it was close. The glare was almost almost like the night at the motel. Almost almost. It was close. She had almost done it. Almost. It was so so close. Her head reeled and the spectator was clapping loudly, cheering her on. “So do yourself a favor and calm the hell down.”

Her lower lip quivered and her eyes felt light and bright as the action wiggled its way from her brain. The speck of a thought wriggled through her skull and traveled down her free arm. All the while, she still struggled against the Manager's insulting grip. But she wasn't struggling as much now. No, not while the thought was making its way to her free hand. She didn't know how much time passed. It could have been a day, a month, two seconds. She didn't know, but it didn't matter. The thought reached its destination.

Chianna's hand lunged down behind her thigh to the shard of glass settled between her leg band and her leg. She pried it from the band, ignoring the long gash up her thigh that she had created in the process. Her mind and body were working together, but she was left out of the decision-making process. Chianna was watching, just like her spectator. She saw herself bring up the makeshift blade, trying to achieve what her other hand had failed to do. The clear, brown glass was painted with red. Her red and she was about to let it mingle with Manager's red. At least she was going to try. Chianna wasn't going to kill him, she was just going to try to anger him. The spark was already there in Manager's eyes. She just needed to blow on it a little, add fuel, and let it turn into the fire she was looking for. As she brought the glass up, she felt her cut leg shake and begin to collapse. That didn't stop her from trying as she let out a war-like shriek. She wanted it bad. So bad.

[Mrs Nadir Khan]

Santiago Ortiz

Mimieux was crazy. Totally loca. Batsh*t. But she wasn’t the worst thing Santiago had ever seen; she wouldn’t be. But Santiago couldn’t help but think that maybe messing with him was exactly what she wanted to do. She might want him to do something foolish, compromising. Something. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Mimieux’s lip quivered and for a minute, she almost went limp in Santiago’s grasp. He almost let her go, but a flash of movement caught his eye. She was reaching under that skirt for something and before Santiago could guess, a reddish-brown thing came his way. Mimieux shrieked, shaking and shaking. Santiago grasped her other wrist, holding the shaking madwoman at arm’s length and studying her bloody weapon of choice. It was a bottle fragment; the blood on it wasn’t Santiago’s. He could see, just beyond Mimieux’s head, the store clerk looking at them the way bouncers looked at a bubbling bar fight. Santiago exhaled slowly through his nose and shook his head.

“Cut it out,” he snapped. “Just stop before you hurt yourself worse.”

[A_Single_Rose]

Chianna Mimieux

Her head was burning. It was melting and she was going going going. Her spectator was on his feet cupping her hands over his mouth and shouting at her. He pumped his fist in the air, tore his hair out and pounded the walls of her head. Frenzy. It was going going going going...

Chianna screamed again. What now? What now?

“Cut it out, Just stop before you hurt yourself worse.”

The bâtarde espagnol had her again. Her other arm was trapped. Both arms were trapped. She struggled fiercely, the animalistic energy shooting through her despite the pain in her leg. "Laissez-moi aller, fils de pute!" A string of words came out after that. Words that came to her from nowhere, that were angry and harsh and what else - she didn't know what. She didn't care what she said. She didn't care what she did. She just wanted... to die. She wanted to die already, to feel... nothing or everything. Mort.

Chianna's leg shook. The knee was burning like her head, except different. It was a different fire. It was sharper, like a needle, a large needle shot through her knee and reaching her thigh. She was pulling against the fils de pute and tried to kick him. In the shin, like in the- in the- Her mind ran away. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember where it was she kicked him in the shin. It wasn't far from here, but... Chianna tried to lift her leg, but she fell. The ground turned white and it was gone. And just as quick, it turned red and she screamed in horror now, not anger. She tried to pull herself up, but her arms fell from her body. She couldn't feel them. Her legs slipped on something, the red ground. Everything turned grey under her.

Had she done it? Had the bâtarde killed her yet? Yes, oh yes. She screamed and her neck closed until she only screamed in her head. Her chest heaved for anything it could get. It was all going going going again, but she was afraid. It hurt. Death hurt. She could feel it hurting her from her leg. Her arms gave up, then her chest, her stomach, her legs. And finally her head. It hurt. It was going away. At least she was dying.

OOC: Moving right along... BIC: