You beautiful little scumbag...{Open}

[Detective Kevin Slame]

She was thinking Mr Right I was thinking Right Now.
Contemplating, over it. Over and over again.

We started dancing getting
Crazy on the dance floor
Come and dance with me
I'll show you what your looking for
Gonna slow down, gonna go down
Gonna make it all night
If you're with me, i'll quickly
Make everything alright.

[/i]


“FUCK YOU, MAN.”

Just the three little words that every guy wanted to hear on his night off, right? And, coming from a junked out kid in pants that were just about to fall down to his ankles, everything was ten times worse.

Ah, he sure did love helping out a neighbor- a Mrs. Deborah McLin, whose son he was currently frog marching away from a particularly graffitied alleyway- in need. All he had to frikken say was that he’d better get a week’s worth of thank-you muffins out of this one.

Little Bobby McLin, one of the world’s many cokeheads, was the spitting image of an everyday drug abuser. He had the red rimmed eyes, the beaded pupils, heavy breathing and stale smelling body. And if that stain on the back of his shorts was anything but dirt, he was gonna get a size 7 and a half shoe up his craggy ass.

“Just shut the hell up and keep walking, Bobby,” Came a very irritated growl. It took all of his self control, but he managed not to beat the shit out of the scarecrow of a kid. “Your mother is very upset that you haven’t gone to rehab like you promised, Bobby. And when Mama McLin is upset, she likes to blast Barry Manilow. Did you know that, Bobby? And since I live right below her, all I can hear is fucking. Barry. Manilow. So just shut the hell up before I take you into that building there and shove your head into the john ‘til you work out that damn crank.”

And the Lieutenant thought that he needed to go to those ‘empathy seminars.’ Ha. He knew exactly how to deal with an unruly kid; no problem. Call him unsurprised when little Bobby suddenly went limp against him and walked quite calmly toward the squad car waiting at the end of the street.

Oh, thank you Jesus. Deposit one McLin, save himself from listening to ‘Bandstand Boogie’ one more freaking time, and maybe have a semi-relaxing night without some kind of earth shattering crisis. Giving the kid a shove toward the uniform glaring at him from the curb- that’ll teach Nick from thinking he could beat him at Hold ‘Em when a favor’s at stake- he smiled wolfishly and waved as the car sped off.

So…great. Now the hell what? He was in boozer/hooker/drug dealer central, thanks to the young addict, and his car was parked five blocks over. Patting the side pocket of his jeans, he was slightly reassured by the familiar weight of his off duty piece, hidden by a worn black tshirt and a leather jacket.

At least if some schmo tried messing with him, he could at least pop a few holes in ‘im before he waited an hour for another uniform. Woohoo.

Sliding a hand through his shaggy hair, he turned around to stroll calmly down the sidewalk. Night off or no, when a guy gets to stare at dead people for a living, there just wasn’t any such thing as a ‘vacation.’ Sure, there was that thing that the Lieutenant made him take a while back…but if a random kid runs out of a market with wad of cash and a .45? Hell if he was going to stand aside and watch like a guppy.

So, when he chanced to pass the pounding confines of a nightclub- definitely not doing anything for his ever present headache- and locked eyes on a very pretty derriere dressed in next to nothing, it was just so natural for him to change course and do some following.

It wasn’t like Kevin Slame ever really let his mind stop whirling. He was too damn scared that if it did that, it’d never start up again.

And anyway…maybe the lady would provide some…amusing distractions.



[/center]

[elise]

The son of a bitch fired her!

FIRED!

AGAIN!

Just because she broke the nose of the guy that reached over the bar to grab at her cleavage they thought that it was 'too agressive' for their establishment. For christsake! it was a biker bar. Was it supposed to be fluffy bunnies and snuggles?!?!

Oh hell no. If she was getting fired then by God she'd do something to get fired for. After breaking half the stock behind the counter by throwing them at the boss she had slipped him into a head lock when he came after her. The 200+ pound biker sure didn't like how that looked to his 'street cred' when the hot little number had Held his head to the bar and his arm behind his back, wrist and elbow twisted at an awkward angle that with just the tiniest bit of pressure would have broken both, he cried Uncle and staggered as she let him up.

Oh how she'd wanted to set the alcohol on him on fire.
Misogynistic pig.

But that would have drawn entirely too much attention. No there were some things that the little hothead was better off doing the old fashioned way with knuckles and whoop-ass.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder as she strutted into the obnoxiously loud night club in the 'Bad Part of Town' she hmphed to herself and decided that she was gonna take the tips she'd earned tonight and blow 'em on getting shit-faced drunk. She wasn't worried about what might happen to her when she got that way, even down here. This was her place. Her people. The poor and desperate.

Besides, she was a local around here. They knew her and her reputation. If they didn't fear her for her 'voodoo' they were leary from the various fights she'd been in and came out on top of when the odds were stacked against her.

Too many snooty rich folk in the Quarter, not to mention annoying tourists.

Those hips sashayed as her black leather boots clicked over the entrance of the bar, not even bothering to show ID as the doorman gave her wide berth to pass by, watching her as she went and shaking his head slowly and letting out a slow, quiet whistle.

She turned heads as she went, sure. But no one made eye contact with her as she made her way to the bar and leaned against it, deciding what it was that she should start with.

[Detective Kevin Slame]

((Okay, I'm gonna put this as a warning up here: Slame is...ummm...REALLY, REALLY perverted. XD Think Billy, but in a cynical, nasty sorta way. I don't want to offend or anything, but my guy's kind of an..aquired taste. If this don't fly, please don't hesitate to strangle me and I will tone him down. -hides- ))
---




Holy mother of fucking GOD, there was something ripe in the alleyway that they just passed. Blinking back a wave of tears as the smell hit him like a ton of bricks, it took all of his self control not to mutter a defeated ‘fuckit’ and run off in the opposite direction. What the hell was he doing following a complete stranger, anyway? Sure, she was dressed like she liked to do some down’n’dirty partying, she was heading into a nightclub known for its rowdy ways and was eyeing the guys inside like they were worms on a hook…

Aw, hell, who was he kidding? If she looked like a hooker, smelled like a hooker and eyed potential Johns like a hooker, she was probably a goddamn hooker.

Pity. He kind of liked thinking that he’d just spotted a good-girl bent on tasting a bit of the underworld. Lord knows he would’ve liked to give her a taste of what daddy’s dollars were making her miss.

Head down and hands tucked into his pockets, he kept on walking. There was enough of a ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression on his face to keep a few curious glances his way from getting into the physical, and enough of an innocent air to get his fellow pedestrians to forget about him. It was pretty much what made him a favorite for the undercover scene…when he wasn’t going ape shit crazy and getting put on administrative leave.

Sauntering into the bar after the lady- damn, someone was having a bad day; did she get in an argument with a mark?- the detective parked it on a bar stool next to hers after some particularly nasty words traded with a drunk kid previously sitting there. He loved his badge sometimes, especially when it made underaged punks piss themselves and run in the opposite direction.

...Mmm, and leaving his girlfriend in the process. Hello, beautiful. Are you legal? Damn, nope, there was too much make-up on that pretty face; just his luck. He'd learned to read people on the beat, and he could spot a faker ten miles off. And speaking of faker...damn, that fiery lady with the bad attitude that he was playing crazy stalker to wasn't a hooker, was she? Fuck, he was so going to hell. She just looked so good looking and he'd been spending so much time on the streets, 'cause the Lieutenant wanted to see him commit suicide at some point...damn. He really did need to see that head shrink before some random woman shoved his twenty up his ass.

Leaning on the bar with a 'please kill me' groan, Slame did his best not to look at the lady in question, as if she could pluck the thought right out of his head. Man, Mama SO taught him better than this! Wasn't his middle name 'Lancelot' for chrissakes? The guy had screwed his best bud's woman, sure, but he was supposed to be KNIGHTLY.

And instead he was just perverted. God, he needed a frikken drink, stat.

As the bartender moved over, he raised a hand half heartedly. "Gimme the strongest drink you got in the place, man. I don't care what it costs; I just wanna stagger outta here come closing. And start a tab."

[elise]

(( No worries. She isn't a wilting flower nor fragile. She was raised in the rougher areas so it would be normal to her. And you know you can't offend me silly. LOL! I say bring it on! ))

I don't know why ya think I wanna rape ya boo
But then again if I was you I would hate me to
I'm a bad ass bitch And ya can't get nuttin'
Yall need to tell ya boy somethin, BITCH!

I aint tryin fuck ya man
Everybody know he ma number 1 fan
I done been there done that bitch and
U wanna get mad bitch I don't give a damn

The little skirmish beside her at the bar drew her attention like a magnet to iron as she watched the punk ass kid stare down Creepy Guy as words were exchanged. She glared at the kid over the man's shoulders and quirked a brow before turning away and giving the girlfriend the stink eye too.

But a labored sigh slipped from her lips as she caught a glimpse of that badge, rolling her eyes. Just what she needed, some pig with an attitude to make her night complete. it made her frown deepen as she muttered a few words under her breath, her hand making a subtle gesture that caused a bottle on the shelf close to them to tilt ever so slightly towards the edge of the shelf. Enough to catch the bartender's eye and drag him down their way.

Hearing the groan she glanced to the cop and quirked a brow. it was written all over his face what he'd thought, mind reading not necessary. Of course the exact train of thought was not clear but it wasn't the first time she'd been thought of as something more than just a hot chick in skimpy clothes. but other people's perceptions weren't gonna change her. She wore what she liked and went where she pleased and they could go screw themselves for all she cared.

Oh the dark cloud of irritation and anger drifted low over her this night.

As the fuzz ordered she rested her arms on the bar and looked at the 'tender. "Better make that two Harry and keep 'em comin. I need some liquid therapy tonight." she told the man.

The bartender looked at her warily but squarely and pointed. "You know the rules...keep it chill tonight. We don't need a repeat of last time." he warned her even if there was a hint of fear that lurked behind his eyes and his voice trembled with a bit less conviction than one might have thought would be there.

Of course last time the bar nearly burned down and the Senator's son had been sent to the ER. After that there was pressure on them as the politician tried to get the place shut down, using every dirty trick in the book.

Well...almost everyone. Government types were so short sighted, never seeing the benefits of some well placed magics. Such as the little gris gris bag that hung from a nail back behind the bar. Her 'apology' for nearly costing Harry his business. it had worked though. the feds that had come to crack down on the bar had found that the Senator's son not only had several fake ID's but that he'd been selling them to other minors in his high school, replicating the ID's in his father's office.

The more they had put pressure on the bar the more unfortunate things happened to the Senator until the man finally backed off when two and two came together and he realized the connection.

With a wave of her hand irritatedly she muttered something and nodded, waiting for the shots to be delivered. Nothing like a New Orleans Hand grenade.

Her eyes cut to the man beside her and she said loud enough for him to hear her. "And just for the record...you try to 'hire me' I'll break your arm, badge or no badge. That aint my scene chere."

[Detective Kevin Slame]

If you wanna sink to the bottom with me
Come get gotten, reelin' and rotten beneath
1, 2, 3 and down you go
You'll be smilin' before you know
If you wanna sink to the bottom with me

We're all rotten, buried and forgotten
Livin' it up underground
So take a ride
HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY!
You really can't be lookin' so surprised
If you can't beat them, might as well eat them
No one's gettin' out alive

[/i]


Fuck, he needed a drink…something strong, foul smelling and potent enough to suck all the spit from his mouth. Something to set fire to his belly, make his skin crawl, his eyes water—

Oh yeah, definitely the bottle with the skull and crossbones painted on the site. He liked his bartender; he liked him a lot.

Kevin picked up his head as the bottle was plunked down onto the table next to him, the awesome man obviously sensing his need for quick oblivion. Uncorking the bottle, he made good use of an empty shot glass that miraculously appeared near his free hand and proceeded to start in on his quest to pass out drunk.

Ah, taste that burn. It was beautiful, man! Beautiful to the point of utter distraction; so much so, that it took him a minute to realize that there was someone talking to him. Was that the not-hooker from before, whom he’d foolishly followed into the bar? Dammit, why couldn’t it have been some sexy young blonde with a fake ID, who just wanted a good fuck in the back hall?

No, of course not, it had to be the chick with the mind reading skills. Had he been drooling, or something? Reaching for his wallet? How the fuck did she know that he’d been mentally comparing her to the city’s many working women? He wasn’t THAT bad at keeping a poker face!

…Then again, he was so stressed out, it was a wonder how he didn’t explode right there. Damn, he really hoped that she wasn’t about to tattle on him, given that she recognized the badge. He really, REALLY didn’t want to get cozy with the department shrink for the umpteenth time that month.

With another grumble and a sigh, Kevin turned his bleary eyes toward her, resting the side of his head on his knuckles.

“Lady, please don’t be telling me that you wanna steal my bottle,” He drawled, raising a brow with a nasty quirk of his lips. “’Cause I’m not the sharing type. As for ‘hiring you…’” Pausing, he made a show of giving her a once-over, a heated look flashing into his eyes. His lips curled even higher, eyes lingering, brows raising…

And then his face shut down like a 401-blue screen computer. With a dismissive shrug, he turned back to his bottle and his shot.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You ain’t as hot as the badge. Now leave me the fuck alone, or I’ll take that threat as verbal assault…and I’ll break your arm. In handcuffs.”


[/center]

[elise]

Hello. Did you miss me?
I know I'm hard to resist
Y'all can come and help me
Pick the sweet corn out of this
It's hard to be humble
When you're so fuckin' big
Did you ever meet a sexier
Male chauvinist pig?

If you drop me
I'll fall to pieces on ya
If you don't see me
I don't exist
It's nice to meet you
Now let me go and wash my hands
'Cause you just met
The world's most handsome man

Those cool eyes narrowed at the once over given to her and her temperature rose both from anger and...something else as the man looked over her. Contracting a little more as he went blank and dismissive.

If he were the observant type he might have noticed Harry, the bartender, stepping away quickly to attend to.....some glasses that needed re-polishing ..way over on the far end of the bar. WAY over. That alone should have given him warning. And if not then the cold, mirthless smile that spread over her crimson lips as she heard his words and threats.

Not as hot? Oh if he only knew hot hot she could be! Maybe the night was looking up after all. Several scenarios ran through her mind, words to curse tickling at her lips that ran towards ruining his manhood forever in the most peculiar and embarrassing ways.

Why yes, he would have quite the difficult time chasing after criminals and shaking down hookers with elephantiasis of the testicles! the thought made her smile more, not a good smile still.

Soft words were uttered under her breath as she brought her shotglass to her lips, blowing lightly over the surface in his direction before she took the shot and licked her lips.


"Keep your bottle bebette...I doubt I'd like what it got much anyway. But as for your particular kink for handcuffs....Well, I suppose you would have to whip them up in some bondage gear and put a little pain to them to get them to sleep with you."

A small laugh left her lips as she raised up and reached over the counter to grab the whiskey bottle, slapping a twenty on the counter for Harry before sitting back down. Pouring her shotglass full she toasted him "Laissez les bon temps rouler"

[/i] ~ Let the good times roll. ~ and turned away from him, grabbing her bottle pouring it into the clear glass tumbler set before her. No.. this was not a shot glass kind of night. Might as well drink it in large servings.

Fire leapt in her irises subtly as she looked down at the bar, controlling the overwhelming urge to set his ass on fire. Literally....his ass.

With a bored tone she rolled her shoulders a bit, slipping off the black leather jacket that covered her and faked a yawn. "It's always the same..." she remarked to the passing waitress and smiled coldly. "Big men with little man syndrome...has to hide behind a badge to get wood."

She turned to him and lifted an eyebrow as she went on nonchallantly, knowing as well as he did that he had no basis for any charges. If anything his ass would be in a sling for threatening a civilian with bodily harm. "Is that what it is? You felt so insecure about your itty bitty little gogote that you had to join the force to prove your a man? Carry a big gun and rough people up?" She doubted that he understood the Creole slang she used but felt the meaning was clear enough.
[/center]

[Detective Kevin Slame]

My mother was a douche bag
My sister was a douche bag
I guess that makes me one too

I got the douche bag blues
I got the douche bag blues
I got the douche bag blues
Lord I just don't know what to do

[/i]



Ah man, he really did love the sensual burn of a good shot of booze. Downing the amber liquid in one gulp, he closed his eyes and let the warmth fall over him. It spread through his chest, down to his arms, up to his head…and yes, the haze was almost orgasmic. He needed to forget, if only for a little while. He needed that artificial peace, that numbing calm, that I-don’t-care-if-I-die-tonight feeling—

ANYTHING but that annoyingly sultry voice that sounded near his head. Damn, he was definitely getting karma-smacked for thinking that she was a hooker. Did he mention that he was going to hell soon? He was definitely going to Hell soon.

And when he got there, his adopted mother was going to be waiting with her Wooden Spoon of Death. Ah, the things he had to look forward to.

With a pained look on his face as the bartender poured him another drink, he turned to look at the not-hooker. “Jesus, are you still talking? Seriously? Are you into the verbal shit or something? Lady, I ain’t in the mood tonight, alright? Go get your rocks off by busting someone else’s balls tonight. Thanks so much,”

Holding his newly filled shot up to his aching cheek- crack dealers and their pimp-rings; fucking hurt like a BITCH- he closed his eyes and tried to get back to that fuzzy sense of peace. Maybe she’d finally get the hint and leave him the fuck alone? Or was his snarling not enough?

…Yeah, it wasn’t enough. There went his non-existent reputation. Oh, the humanity!

Another martyred sigh slid over his face as he opened one eye to glare in her direction. “You know, you really shouldn’t insult George that way,” He drawled, more than happy to go on the ‘let’s insult Slame’ train. What was a bit of nut busting between enemies? “He’s kinda touchy, y’know? But really, lady, I could ask the same to you. Do you get off being a dike with the man-hating shit, or is this just an act? You break up with your boy toy and wanna take it out on everybody else?”

He leaned closer toward her with a mock sympathetic pat to her arm. “Don’t worry mon cher, there will be other tiny dicked men for you to eat for breakfast. I ain’t one of ‘em, though, so why don’t you be on your merry way?”



[/center]

[elise]

Sharp shooter into breakin hearts
A baby gigolo - a sex pistol
Hollerin at everythin that walks
No substance just small talk
Know why you feelin on that girl's behind
You gotta sleezy one track mind
Working your work until you think you find
Who's goin home with you tonight


Sweatin me but I'm not your type
You think you irk me and you're so right
I'd rather keep the trash and throw you out
Stupid bitch in my beach house
Naw I ain't gone go and act a fool
And be lead story on the nigga news
Not me sucker
I'll never be your lover
I'm rather make you suffer
You stupid mutherfucker"

A half snarl, half sneer graced those lovely lips as she listened to the douchebag talk. Oh yes, this one needed a lesson of the worst sort. one she was more than happy to provide for him.

She glanced down at the hand that patted her arm, fighting all that she had in her not to grab it in a pressure point hold and twist his wrist till he cried like a baby. It would be so easy. So very easy. But instead she merely raised her eyes a bit, flames flashing through their aquamarine depths briefly before she smiled a smile that could chill the hearts of paid mercenaries and cause their balls to seek refuge back inside their bodies.

A loose hair was spied on his collar, one she casually plucked off as she spoke, distracting him with her words as she secured the bit of personal effect from him. "Dike? Man-hating? Oh for true mon cher, I simply adore men. Sadly though....I don't see anyone that fits that description around here."

Standing she finished off her drink, noting the worried look from the bartender and laughed lightly before twirling the shot glass in her hand and then setting it on the bar before her hand traced a few sigils through the air . Introducing knuckle to flesh was always more satisfying than magic. However it was a quick relief. She had no such plans for him, nothing quick at least. it would last him a good couple of weeks and nothing medical science would be able to help with.

Her other hand behind her back as she whispered the words that would inflame not his passions but his genetailia, the hair she pinched between two fingers ignited and went up in a whisp of flame as her whispered words ended.

"On my merry way I shall be... enjoy your night...if you can." she tossed the parting volley over her shoulder as she turned and walked away, heading for the doors to the street. She should stay. A case of magicked herpes was always good fun to observe. A shame it didn't have the lasting effects the real thing did. But the burning and itching that would follow and the discomfort was a site to see in a public venue from a persont hat thought they owned the world.

A light, lilting laugh left her as she strolled out the doors. The bartender looked to the man at the bar and shook his head before moving on down the bar to serve a couple brews to some tourists.

((OOC: I guess that's it for El in the scene. Unless he chases after her or something, she's out. ))