look alive, sunshine

And it burns like a gin and I like it,

Anyone who knows Thal, knows she isn't a patient person. The man's delay is understandable but unwelcome. The fact that he's thinking is at least a good sign, but Thal didn't come here tonight to wait for someone to stumble through their thoughts at such a simple question. She chooses to ignore him for the time being, summoning the bartender for another glass of whiskey when she finishes hers off. 

The fresh liquor hangs heavy in her fingers when the man eventually speaks again. It's a respectable, logical answer, but an unsurprising one. Everyone in Torchline wants more - to earn more, to steal more, to be more. She's no different. 

That doesn't mean she's willing to share what she has. 

However, he's proven he won't back down from intimidation, and he has enough awareness not to push the wrong places. That's a rare trait she can't train into the best of pirates or thieves, and she rewards his response with one final, dismissive question. "And what makes you worth my time?" Her eyes still haven't deigned to turn their attention back on him, tail waving a bored rhythm behind her as she takes another slow sip of whiskey, wondering if he might finally surprise her tonight.

Thalassa

put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it

Finch's tongue runs over his teeth inside his mouth, as if he were measuring fangs of his own. His scar twists up as his smile curves into something hungry and glinting. There's no curiosity laden in her tone, and she's clearly not expecting an interesting answer, so Finch has no need to give her one. This is not a job interview. He will not prance out his resume of thievery and trickery, nor would that be wise for someone who needs to stay as spry and slippery as he does. If he leaves this bar a mystery to her, especially as someone who projects such dangerous stillness, he still has something he can utilize. 

Pushing off from where he lounges against the counter, his feet begin to dance gracefully away, silent as a roiling collection of clouds in a winter sky. He keeps her out of the corner of her eye, back half-turned but still coiled and ready to anticipate anything; one does not turn their back on a crouching predator. A card flicks from the inside of his sleeve, appearing with the graceful flourish of fingers and he flicks it onto the counter where it lands to the sticky surface with a slight scrape. It's stained and slightly damp, but more importantly, the woman would recognize it from the gambling table she spent her night cleaning up: a shining ace card winks at her, a bright flash of white against the dark wood of the bar. 

"Plenty of things," He echoes her words over his shoulder as he ghosts away, voice quiet and edged, light but not mocking. "But telling you would defeat the purpose."

And it burns like a gin and I like it,

He moves and Thal thinks she might have finally scared the man off. Maybe he doesn't think he has any skills actually worth her time, or perhaps his pride has just been wounded enough to send him slinking away with his tail tucked between his legs. Not that it matters to her. At least she'll be able to enjoy her drink in peace. 

And yet, she senses that he doesn't leave, lingering just in her periphery. Her tail slows, muscles coiling in similar anticipation, never trusting a disgruntled man not to stab her in the literal back. Her free hand charts a path to her daggers, ready to act at the slightest threat. 

Luckily, the card thrown on the bar top isn't a threat beyond sticking permanently to the wood. 

Her eyes snap to it, recognizing the card from her earlier game - the one she'd stowed in an empty tankard just to piss off the remaining players. The drunks obviously hadn't noticed, but he had, and as the man fades into the crowd with echoed words, hidden beneath the shadow of her hood, a smirk finally pulls at the edge of her lips. 

[FIN]

Thalassa

put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it