An Evening Out

It was quiet. The sound of the slots was muted in this section of the casino, the dinging considered a little too distasteful in the elegant world of the blackjack tables. People sat huddled at the half-moon tables, eying as nicely dressed dealers dealt out the fates of “bust” or “blackjack.” Some stared with a certain amount of desperation, some with unbridled greed. Patience's eyes were full of neutral boredom, as her long fingers gently toyed with one of the twenty dollar chips. She sat to the left of the dealer, the other three seats at the table filled. A young man, clearly trying to count the cards and not quite up to Patience's standards. The other two were white-haired business men, who would occasionally stare over at her. And well they should, because Patience Vinrouge never stepped out to a club unless she was in style. Her hair was braided and coiled in a bun at the base of her neck. A little, strapless, black dress that stopped at mid-thigh, with a large red-beaded necklace around her neck. Seven rings across her ten fingers and her red stilettos on her feet. She stopped toying with the chip to pick up her glass of red wine, finishing off what was left. She glanced at the dealer, who nodded as she rose from the table. The two business protested at her leaving but she shrugged a delicate shoulder and moved on. She went and cashed out her chips, making out with two hundred dollar, when she only came in with fifty. She slipped the cash into her black purse as she stepped into the elevator.

The elevator chimed at the ground floor, where Patience stepped into a wall of sound. The speakers were thrumming and a mass of bodies crowded the dance floor. Any thought that whipped through Patience's mind was drowned out and it was an almost welcome feeling. Since returning to London, she had mostly been attending to the decoration of her new townhouse and familiarizing herself with the city. It had been easy enough, reemerging again into the upper crust of society. She did have noble, socialite blood in her veins, after all. But those little soirees did so begin to grate on her nerves. And now here she was. She let a smile slip across her red lips as she felt her hips begin move side to side with the beat. She stepped into the crowd and instantly felt the bodies pressed against her. She purred just a little, reaching for a hard, male body and pulling it towards her. He appeared if he was a good dancer and if he could dance... well, who was to say he could use his hips in other ways?

For once, Victor was on the ground floor.

Usually, this was Selina's domain, or one of the pair's lieutenants. To him, it was usually far too public, too loud to conduct business. He wasn't entirely a fan of the pounding drum and bass that tended to leave him with near-debilitating headaches after over thirty seconds of exposure. It usually made him want to shoot someone. However, upon his podium, watching over the mass of gyrating and twisting bodies, a sexualised sea of flesh and spinning body parts, it was almost as if Victor was watching their empire grow before his very eyes.

Knox hadn't really put much thought into the ground level. It had been fairly dingy. But when the pair usurped the club as the victors taking their spoils, they siphoned around sixty or seventy thousand into taking care of the bottom floor alone. Now it was sleek, stylish, chic; and the peak of London class. People were fighting at the doors trying to barge in; almost daily, the bouncers returned to their bosses, regaling stories of how they'd had to beat the ever-living shit out of some junkie of a moron trying to push through. To most people, this would have been seen as something bad about the club's position. Victor took it as a compliment. His club was... desirable. A place to be.

Women always got priority, as per Selina's requests. Victor didn't mind; it gave him a touch more eye-candy, and according to his sister, kept the cash flowing a lot more regularly. They kept the demand high with a dance floor full of girls - and that alongside the mainly male club staff and bartenders tended to balance the entire thing out. It was a real moneymaker.

Part of the reason that Victor was here was to watch over his asset greedily as it grew and expanded before him. Every drink sipped was another dollar bill in his pocket, every senseless, drug-addled moron grinding one of Selina's girls was another twenty. Every electronic drop in the next nameless song was a fifty-dollar bill coiled tightly around his fingers. However, of course, as with Victor, there was another reason.

His eyes were bloodshot, though his pupils were of adequate size and his neck snapping around considerably less than the man's usual visage. He wasn't making the jerky movements almost typical of him inside this lifestyle; and his fingers weren't quivering or twitching in the slightest. Altogether, this gave Victor a single image: that of a man no longer on cocaine. The last of the finest and purest of the white powders had faded from his veins, though he was still getting close to inebriated, with four strong glasses of whiskey down him and closing up on a fourth he cradled and shook idly in his hand.

So, Victor had finished part of the night's festivities. He checked his Rolex, pushing back his sleeve with a grin; the night was young, yet. 10:32PM. And he couldn't have timed it better. It was their peak, nine to eleven; almost every head out there in the crowd belonged to a young girl dancing away on acid or ecstasy, or a woman with nothing to lose as drunk as she was every Saturday night. Women were in abundance; and Victor Dresden wanted one.

So, in this, he did something he never usually did. He pushed past the detail guarding the steps down from the podium, and quickly descended down one of the symmetrical staircases on either side. White-suited, he slipped through his bodyguards and almost snarled as one of the thick-headed morons wouldn't budge, initially oblivious to the smaller man's pushing, and down onto the raised edge of the dance floor. The music stopped, and the DJ in the corner spun around, raising his hands and moving from side to side in exasperation. "LADIES AAAAND GENTLEMEN!" Mainly ladies at this point. "IF YOU WOULD PLEASE GIVE IT UP FOR OUR GENEROUS HOST THIS EVENING, MR. VICTOR DRESDEEEEEEN!" If Victor had wanted to, he'd make up some bullshit reason for this other nameless DJ pissing him off, and pistol-whip the shit out of him and throw him into the crowd. Which would then probably continue to dance as he flicked the music back on. However, tonight, the man was lucky; Victor wasn't feeling aggressive, or drug-addled. Just horny.

He nodded to the club and gestured suggestively to a couple of women close-by, and the screams echoed throughout the room as the music started thrumming once more, and Victor slapped the turntable edge before leading. God, it was brilliant. In here, he felt like a celebrity. Notorious. Infamous. Immortalised. Unstoppable.

Both of his rather large Saturday suitcases were still up on the podium, but Eclipse hung in his shoulder holster like a weighty reminder of who he was and why he mattered here. Smirking, he sidled onto the bar as the music thrummed ever louder, and gestured for a bartender to come over; of course, at his beck and call, shitting himself and pale as the tones and threads of his suit, immediately ready to ask 'yes, sir?'

He didn't get a chance to. "Vodka-coke." Victor spoke smooth, loud, and clear above the tones of the music. His raised voice was hoarse from shouting so much, strained and sore within his throat, and he was almost shouting. "AND GO HEAVY ON THE VODKA!" He yelled over the music, just for good measure.

In another, more inconspicuous area of her domain, Selina was leaning over a man tied to a chair, his face bloody and bruised. Lash marks laced across his body from where her whip had cracked down, his hair wet and matted from where she had thrown water on him. The heel of her boot came down on the very small space of exposed chair between his legs, her gloved hand wrenching his head upwards so she could stare him in the face. His eyes went wide and he shuddered, sputtering as if to try to get words out except her fingers stopped him. Narrowing her eyes, her body bent even further so her pretty features were all of inches from the ugliness she had made him. "Now, Mr. Todd, what have we learned tonight hm? I want to hear the words clearly." She asked him sweetly, her fingers moving away from his lips to instead grip his chin so he couldn't dare look away from her piercing gaze, the other still holding his hair.

His whole body began to tremble as he fought to control his voice, dreading what this madwoman would do if he disobeyed her command. "D-don't go near B-Be-Bethany." He stammered, eyes pleading for some sign of mercy in those red orbs of hers. But there was none to be had. "Good boy. What else?" Her grip on his chin tightened ever so slightly, that sickly sweet smile only growing as he began to answer once more. He almost seemed confused, had he forgotten what else he had done? What he owed? "I-I-I... I pay my debts--AHHHH!!!!" He screamed as she tugged at his hair, storming away to the table nearby to grab her whip, giving it one good crack right across his face. The fresh gash bled freely and with vigor from the tip of her bladed whip, and he shuddered, whimpering pathetically. Her heels clicked as she strode back up to his chair, the sweet smile gone to be replaced by utter despise. "Incorrect. You committed a far greater crime than harassing my girls. You crossed a line in a business deal, and that... you seem to have forgotten. Pity. Goodbye." And with that, she gripped her head with his hand, the alkahestry circle in her necklace activating.

He began to cough as she held her hand there for at least a few moments, sensing each break of his blood vessels within his brain. Soon enough that crimson liquid began to drip from every orifice of his face, his sputtering lessening into gasps for air and life. He had no chance. Finally removing her hand, she stepped back to observe her handiwork, her whip hanging limply at her side. Mmm.... It had been fun for a bit. But his mistake had been corrected, and now it was time to return to her brother's side. Placing her whip back down on the table, she removed the long gloves she had been wearing and sighed, stepping out of the dark room into a hallway. Her guards nodded to her and handed off her usual clothes to change into, following her as she walked along the upper floor to her office. The casino floor wasn't all fun and games, or... well... not the pleasant ones at least. "Be sure to clean up the mess. I don't want him stinking up the place. It puts some people off." She ordered, not even bothering to hear their quick, "Yes mistress," before scurrying away. Idiots. They were lackeys, that was their job.

She changed her clothes quickly and readjusted her hair, rolling it up in its hair piece before securing it, her bangs now out of her eyes except for the two strands that hung on either side of her pretty features. She had brightened considerably from before, slipping a couple of knives into hidden sheathes just to be on the safe side since one never knew what could happen. Her brother could go into one of his fits, or someone might decide to bother her girls like our dear Mr. Todd back there. Bastards. Cracking her neck as she left her room, she quickly descended to the ground floor where the beats greeted her like an old friend. The sound always bothered her brother, but she loved it. It lit a fire in her blood like when she was on a hunt but with significantly less blood and death. Death tended to be a bit of a downer for most people. Their men stood to attention at her presence on their podium, greeting them before she scanned the crowd of beloved disciples below. Thats right, buy into the religion that the Dresden Twins offered. Escape your dreaded day with a good lay, waste your money at her casino, protect yourself with her brothers guns. Join their kingdom of vice and revel in it.

There was a decent crowd tonight as they all meshed together into a woven tapestry of lust, the music their chorus that called them forth. Since her brother wasn't up here, he must be down below for she knew he wasn't upstairs at the moment. How in the world could he stand it tonight? Had he had a good day? Or was it something else that she... didn't necessarily approve of? Whatever. With a swish of her skirt, she descended down into the pit of dancers, the guards easily moving aside for her. The DJ started and stared at her, the music stopping again though she didn't realize it had before for her brother. "WE'RE IN LUCK LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THE DRESDEN TWINS HAVE GRACED US WITH THEIR PRESENCE! LETS HEAR IT FOR THIS AMAZING PAIR!" Amazing didn't even cut it. They were the dream team, they were the best at what they did and they should be worshipped. As the music resumed, people cheered and cried for their hosts, but she knew they just wanted their beats back. Some of the men were checking her out in their drunken stupor, and she only winked flirtatiously at them before slipping through the crowd to the bar.

She wasn't surprised to find her brother there, casually sitting down next to him with her back to the bar counter as she stared out at their accomplishment. "Are we pleased this evening? Anyone worth noting here?" She asked without looking at him, now turning her attention to her girls scattered across the pounding room. Oh good, they seemed to be enjoying themselves, and she hadn't heard any fresh complaints about... sleazy customers. Her eyes settled upon one particular woman amongst the crowd with her long black hair tied back in a bun. Her red heels were distinctive amongst the overwhelming black shoes or bare feet. But there was something else, something in her gaze, in the way she gripped that man as they pressed together. She had the look of a predator, of someone who had power and loved it. It was a sweet, dark beauty that she held, and Selina knew it all too well. She possessed it as well, not that she really wanted to brag. It was a simple fact, and that was all.

Oh, he COULD dance. With the mass of bodies, it was hard to do anything except grind against one another, but those hips rocked very well with the beat. Of course, the music had been stopped... twice. Apparently the owners of the club had decided to make a unique appearance into the club. The... Dresden twins? The name rang a little bit of a bell. As she ran the name Victor Dresden through her mind, she continued to dance. Her back was pressed flush against her partner's front, one of her arms curled up around his neck. She bent her knees and twisted her body downwards along his frame, at the same time, pulling sharply at his hair at the nape of his neck. The fool didn't notice that as she rose back up slowly. She felt the three strands of hair in her hand, and let a smile dash across her face. A new sample and she remembered the name.

Knox. He had run this club. And Dresden... gunrunner, of some kind. He was an Underworld man, of that she was quite sure. She never had any dealings with him; Takatori had his own runner in Philly that he had utilized. What an interesting turn of events. The song ended and the man turned her to face him. She tucked her hand down into her purse, dropping the strands in. She then pushed away from him, running her fingers down her chest. She then casually pushed him onto another girl. He gave her a surprised look, but she shook her head. She would find him again later... if she felt like it. She wasn't in the mood to have sex in a darkened corner of the club. Maybe at the end of the night she would take him home, or she would go to his place. She hadn't decided. Or, if nothing else, she could always call her driver. He was very good and knew how to please her. In the meantime, something cool and refreshing was required. For a lady did not sweat, it was unseemly.

She shifted through the group of people, moving to an empty spot at the bar. She tapped and the bartender sailed over. “Ice water, if you please.” He nodded briskly and poured out the water, sliding the glass over. She remained at the bar, turning to watch the dance floor. She sipped at the water, feeling the liquid chill her as it traveled down to her stomach. Ah, refreshing.

The slow burn of the cold, iced vodka-coke mixture trickled down his throat and soothed what ailed him. All the shouting really made Victor's neck sore; and all the precipitate and mucus that formed in the mouth from a combination of the smoking and the cocaine needed to be bleached away every once in a while. He let the last dribbles of liquid fall down his gullet, and then slid the glass off to accompany the other three on the counter. Victor spun around to watch the crowd for a moment, hearing the microphone buzz with feedback.

"WE'RE IN LUCK LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THE DRESDEN TWINS HAVE GRACED US WITH THEIR PRESENCE! LETS HEAR IT FOR THIS AMAZING PAIR!" Smirking at the DJ, he gave a subtle wave, before digging into his jacket and retrieving a half-smoked pack of Marlboro Reds, and his Zippo. Propping the first he could fumble for with his drug-addled grip into his mouth, he quickly sparked up a flame and singed the end of the cigarette upon his lips, before tucking the rest back into his suit jacket, resting his elbows on the counter, and taking a long, deep drag, and running a hand through his blood-red hair.

His sister approached with a macabre smile on his face, though he kept his eyes firmly affixed on the swirling mass of limbs that was their dance floor, watching from afar, and scanning for someone - anyone attractive, really. "Are we pleased this evening? Anyone worth noting here?" Cigarette still leaving vague, wispy trails of smoke to dissipate into the air, he swung his hand around to the opposite side Selina was standing on, and slammed it on the counter aggressively, before swinging forwards and running his hands through once more, apparently not in the best of moods.

"NO!" He growled, raising his hands and puffing out a thin, creamy cloud a smoke. "Sel, do you see any FUCKING talent out there!?" He let his fingers sway back down to his side, before finally raising them back up to the counter and resting his elbows again, with a fairly vociferous sigh. "It's bull fucking shit, is what it is," He murmured as the song faded out for a moment. "I tell the bouncers to let girls in..." He scanned the crowd's surface a little more. Most weren't too bad. "...and half of them look like they've been hit in the face with a goddamn shovel." The group effect, flashing nights, and most spiked to all hell on MDMA weren't helping, either.

Victor was about to shrug, retire, and head back to the elevator for a line or two of cocaine, when, suddenly, he saw a fairly warm-looking girl dressed in a black dress and heels emerge from the crowd, apparently having been dancing. She sidled onto the barstool, and, with a grin, the gunrunner turned to his sister and put on a predatory grin. The heat faded from his body and the redness from his face as he took another drag of his cigarette, before handing it to her, and puffing out. “Ice water, if you please.”

"The game is back on, sis..." Victor spoke coyly, the last of the cigarette smoke disappearing into the thick, humid club air as he strolled over to the blue-haired girl sitting at the bar. He swerved around her back, before taking up the stool to her left with a subtle smile, and tapping the bar once more. The bartender poured him another drink, then shrunk back into non-existence, Victor taking a sip as the woman downed hers, respectively. "You do know..." He said, moving his head slowly to look at her. "That is my ice-water you're drinking,"

"NO!" The sharpness of her brothers voice caused Selina to raise a single eyebrow and look to him, wondering what in the world could have him on edge. "Sel, do you see any FUCKING talent out there!?" Her eyebrow twitched as she rolled her eyes and looked out to the crowd once more. He must be talking about girls. He only talked about a few things in that way and every single fucking time he did that, it made her eyebrow twitch. It was as if he were trying to say that her girls weren't worth it. That THEY weren't talented. "It's bull fucking shit, is what it is," Yeah, yeah, just keep saying that Victor. "I tell the bouncers to let girls in..." Here we go. "...and half of them look like they've been hit in the face with a goddamn shovel." PFFT. She had to chuckle a little at that as she shrugged lightly and lazily saluted the bartender whom slid a drink her way very casually. It was a crimson concoction of absolute deliciousness which she immediately sipped with a light sigh before placing it back on the counter behind her. "Well you can't expect all of them to be winners like my girls. But I'm sure you've sampled almost all of them at this rate. And you know that they do treat you so very well." She shot back boredly, wishing that just once he wouldn't make it sound like even her girls counted in that "hit with a shovel" category. She knew, that he knew, how she felt about her girls. Heh, as did that unfortunate soul upstairs.

Ah, but the predator was on the move and Selina observed her movements. “Ice water, if you please.” Either she recognized her brother, or she truly did just want a drink. Even her voice screamed seductress to the female twin as she heard her, taking the time to sip once more at her drink. It didn't matter since her brother had clearly noticed this dangerous beauty. "The game is back on, sis..." Now that she was closer, Selina couldn't help but wonder if she had seen her before. What comment could she make? He had set his sights on her and Selina knew better than to get in the way. Maybe she should try to find some... "entertainment" for the night. Her golden brown eyes watched him try to be smooth by taking up the other stool beside the woman which only succeeded in making her roll her eyes again. God.... Couldn't he at least learn some moves? "You do know...That is my ice-water you're drinking." Oh sure, that was how you got a lady. Try to insult her while you are trying to get into that lovely dress of hers.

"Oh please..." She muttered under her breath as she sipped at her drink before a man came up to her. "Ms. Dresden?" He was a dark haired man with olive skin and pitch black eyes that gleamed in the flashing lights, piercing into her as he stood there. The fact he was speaking Cerisian meant that this must be something other than pleasure. "Yes? Who are you?" She asked with a sweet smile and a tilt of her head, noting his warm clothes for a club. A suit was hardly something you wore to nights such as these unless you were here for other purposes. "My name is Dominic Delrossa. May I speak with you about possible... work?" Work was it? She glanced downward in thought as she rolled over the pro's and con's before nodding once, gesturing very slightly with a hand for him to sit down next to her. He half-smiled and nodded in thanks before taking the seat, his hand subtly sliding an envelope into her hand. "What sort of work did you have in mind Mr. Delrossa? Clearly its not with one of my girls." She commented with a quick smirk, the envelope vanishing into a pocket of her dress.

"It is a matter of personal concern with a certain individual that I believe your... contacts.. would be perfect for." Now he really had her attention. Her expression betrayed nothing as she smiled sweetly and really gazed upon him, taking in his entire being as she stared at his face. Who did he have ties to? He leaned even closer to her ear while reaching for the glass of water that had been brought for him, his next words sending a shiver down her spine. "I hear you know Marionette. We could use her help." Ooo..... Marionette.... Well well! "I see. I do indeed know a person by that name. Is it just the usual?" She asked quietly while leaning over to peck his cheek, one of her hands running along his arm. He was a pretty man, but just how far did he wish to go with her hm? Sadly he only gave her a small smile as he shifted slightly in a manner that said he did not wish to take anymore business than what he came here for with her. Pity. "If you could pass along that envelope to her, I would be most appreciative." He then leaned over and kissed her cheek, finishing his water. "Very well. She will be in contact with you soon Mr. Delrossa. In the meantime, enjoy yourself." He nodded to her before slipping into the throng of dancing bodies and vanishing from sight, leaving her alone with the awkwardness of her brother trying to get laid. But hey, she had gotten work and that made her a happy camper. She was getting tired of just playing billiards and cards lately anyways.

Turning back to the pair off to her right, Selina brushed one of her longer strands further towards its appropriate side so it wouldn't be in her eyes. She had just thought of the woman's name that was perching there so comfortably at their bar. She did indeed recognize her from photo's of the now non-existent Men in White that lay on her desk. "Patience Vinrouge, allow me to welcome you to our humble abode. You have a certain spice to your dance that is quite entrancing. I'm happy to see one of your standing here in our home." She called as she turned on her stool to face them, not caring if her brother might shoot her daggers for daring to interrupt him as he hit upon her. At least she recognized her and treated her with a proper respect.

The ice water cooled her down considerably, which she appreciated. She had her back to the bar, sitting on the stool, she watched the dancing crowd. She was aware, however, of a male body moving down the bar towards in and taking the stool to her left. The scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke permeated off of him and assaulted her nostrils. She would have curled her lip up in distaste, but she was a lady and did not reveal such emotions in public. The bartender was behind her, sliding a drink to the silent man beside her. The fact that the bartender was making a drink for a man who didn't even take an order made it quite obvious. Victor Dresden had just entered in personal space.

“You do know... That is my ice-water you're drinking.”

She moved the glass from her lips, holding it delicately in one hand as she turned her head to the right. Bloodshot eyes stared back at her, the subtle smile on his lips betraying the most basic of needs. One that Patience understood all too well. However, that doesn't mean she would fall into his arms. She had heard better pick-up lines from a teenager. She raised one eyebrow, a hint of a smile causing the corner of her lips to turn upwards. “Actually, I do believe that it is mine. It may have been yours once, but I have since taken it into my possession.” Her low voice purred across the space between her lips and Victor's ears. Let him take her words how he wanted; she had heard the rumor that he had a bit of a temper. However, she had dealt with temper before.

"Patience Vinrouge, allow me to welcome you to our humble abode. You have a certain spice to your dance that is quite entrancing. I'm happy to see one of your standing here in our home."

The female voice came from beyond Victor and Patience raised her eyes to look at Selina. Apparently the woman recognized her. Which meant one of two things. She was indicating her status as minor nobility in Creta or she was respecting her past standing in the Men in White. Either way, it definitely made the night more interesting. She quickly dug up the name of the woman in front of her from the recesses of her mind. Selina Dresden's name did not circle as frequently as her brother's, but she had heard tell of a special service that Selina had done for some Men in White lackeys. Rather, Selina's business had taken care of them. Mind you, it could've been Selina herself, but that was frankly none of Patience's business. Fuck who you want, when you want.

A more polite smile slipped across her lips as she nodded in greeting to Selina. “Thank you, Miss Dresden. I am glad a place of such caliber exists in London. But please,” She waved a hand gently, as if brushing off her standing temporarily. “There is no need to make any fuss. Right now, I am here to enjoy myself. Just like everyone else here.”

“Actually, I do believe that it is mine. It may have been yours once, but I have since taken it into my possession.” Victor snarled noticeably. Kitty wasn't playing nice, eh? If he had to get violent... he would, simply put. Either way, sidled down next to her, he downed the last of his vodka-coke, and immediately called for another one, the bartender far enough that the man didn't question his being there, but close enough that he was at Victor's very beck and call.

"Everything in this fucking club belongs to me and my sister," Victor tried to keep the snarl from afflicting his tones, but it wasn't of much use. Temper? Victor didn't have a temper. He had the mindset of a demon, the drug habits of a rock star, and the lusts of a stallion all thrown into one. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll? Hah, that was cute. Sex, drugs, and bloody fucking murder was closer to the mark. "You'd do well to appreciate that," The arms dealer spat, before eyeing up his sister drawing close, and smiling fondly. Perhaps they would run a brother-sister setup? The promiscuity of each twin was no mystery to the other...

"Patience Vinrouge, allow me to welcome you to our humble abode. You have a certain spice to your dance that is quite entrancing. I'm happy to see one of your standing here in our home." Ahh... that made sense. The wrinkle in Victor's brow vanished all-too-quickly, but the bloodshot whites of a drug-user were still very much prominent. Drawing a packet of Marlboro Golds from his jacket pocket, alongside a gold-plated Zippo lighter, he propped a cigarette upon his mouth, promptly lit it, and rapped on the bar twice more briefly. Things made sense now.

"I'm sorry," The words struck his mouth, foreign enough to the arms dealer. He never apologised. But the never-before-seen politeness was somewhat... juxtaposed, as Victor continued to talk himself into the sexless pit he was headed straight on for, no brakes applied. "I thought you were just another random slut out on the dance floor," The redhead commented simply, taking that first drag and tucking his flashy lighter and cigarettes back into his pocket, barely inches from Eclipse, his pistol. By the moment his hands became free, another vodka-coke was sitting ready and waiting, his levels of inebriation steadily rising despite the man's tolerance for foreign substances entering his system.

"Patience Vinrouge," Victor commented once more, a tone of false awe upon his voice. "You were that classless thug Takatori's bitch, weren't you?" A cackle struck his throat as he stood back up, shaking his head. "I never liked the bastard. No class, no style, just relied on brute force to get things done. That's why some simple fucking Royal Guard could fuck his operations six ways from Sunday," He swooped back in, barely six inches from Patience's throat as he removed the cigarette, inhaled the nicotine, and exhaled the last of the smoke, regardless of her being so close. "Not me," The dealer's voice was raised, but not so much that it was a shout. The music had still dropped into near-silence anyway, just the regular hubbub keeping the club vibrant and thrumming as per usual. "I'm invincible, compared to that rat fucker," Obviously not aware of Patience's treason against her old master, he continued to presume her loyalty to the long-dead crime lord and took another sip, tapping his cigarette carelessly on the floor.

"What d'you think, Sel?" Stepping back, he regarded her with a surveying look upon his face. "Think we could maybe make use of her?" A grin stretched its way well across the redhead's face. "Your bastard boss is long fucking dead, and I guess that puts you out of a job, eh?" Well... this could be fun. Victor strode back forwards with a grin, uttering those four magic words that every villain, every thief, every burglar, every criminal on the goddamn streets of Creta so wished to hear directed at them from the same man's mouth. "Why not join us?"

It was now that she had spoken that she noticed how tense her brother had gotten which meant that dear Patience here had caused her brother to lose some of his. Joy and rapture, hopefully he hadn't said anything to anger the lovely lady. Why in the world was she the one speaking and thinking like a gentleman should? Oh yes, she was a Madame. That would probably be why. It seemed her greeting had certainly smoothed things over a bit which made Selina's smile grow, “Thank you, Miss Dresden. I am glad a place of such caliber exists in London. But please,” Heh, that was good to know. Selina leaned a bit more on the bar as Patience finished her thought, “There is no need to make any fuss. Right now, I am here to enjoy myself. Just like everyone else here.” Well that was good and certainly a relief. There would only be a couple of reasons why she would be here otherwise and some of those reasons were not so pleasant. Selina would prefer not to have to fight alkahestry with alkahestry if possible, especially when voodoo dolls were involved. It was a rather... unfriendly advantage.

"I'm sorry," Hold on, was that... Did he... One red head now turned all their attention to the other with a cigarette in his mouth, a single eyebrow raising to betray her surprise. Inside, however, she was in total shock. When did he ever apologize to anyone except her? Uh, never. Duh. It didn't matter if it was sincere or not, the act itself was all that mattered. Sometimes she wondered if it was even a part of his vocabulary. At least until he surprised her like this. "I thought you were just another random slut out on the dance floor," Uh-uh. She sighed lightly and straightened up a bit, picking up her drink to take a sip as her features fell back into a more impassive appearance. God her brother really was so very tactless. "Patience Vinrouge," Oh what was he going to say now? What insulting thing was he-"You were that classless thug Takatori's bitch, weren't you?"-going... to say.... She couldn't hide it, she outright facepalmed at his antics. "I never liked the bastard. No class, no style, just relied on brute force to get things done. That's why some simple fucking Royal Guard could fuck his operations six ways from Sunday."

Well, that wasn't quite how it went down from her files, but her brother was allowed to hold his own reservations about the man. That Takatori had enjoyed the company of her girls for a short while before he died in that fiery explosion that ate up a decent chunk of Philly. The police had no idea how to explain it except for a terrorist attack or else a mob war. Pfft, no such thing. This was all the doing of one man who was just as troubled as her brother could be sometimes. "Not me," Wait, from how he was speaking, was he... He was. He most definitely was. "I'm invincible, compared to that rat fucker," Humility was not exactly in her brothers vocabulary either. She supposed it was part of his charm. She was quite used to it. "What d'you think, Sel?" She perked up at her nickname, turning her gaze away from the bottles that lined the wall behind the bar since they weren't so interesting anymore (they had become so during her brothers ego boosting).

"Think we could maybe make use of her?" Selina perched her elbow upon the counter and touched a couple of fingers to the side of her face as she leaned forward with more interest, already sure that she wouldn't employ Patience as one of her girls. It didn't seem like an appropriate fit. "Your bastard boss is long fucking dead, and I guess that puts you out of a job, eh?" This woman didn't need a job. She was minor nobility, she could just bourgeois her way into money. Her brown eyes shifted from the dark haired beauty to her brother who was clearly excited, watching him very carefully as he strode about grinning. "Why not join us?" Well there it was. Ok, now she could get closer.

Pushing herself up off of her stool, she smoothed out her skirt as her boots thudded softly against the clubs floor, the sound getting lost amongst the pounding bass and streaks of sounds. She replaced her brother on the stool he had been perching on before he decided to pace, her sweet smile coming over her features as she turned all her attention to those striking blue eyes. "You can tell that Victor here shed no tears for Takatori when he died. I think your part in his demise was very subtle." Though she was positive that there was more to the reports than what she managed to scrape together. Her drink came sliding down the counter into her waiting palm from where she had been sitting before, lifting the glass to her lips as she tried to judge where in the world she should, or could, place Patience should she choose to join them. The ice in the glass tinkled softly as it was replaced upon the counter, her eyes never leaving those blue orbs. "You don't have to be one of my girls. If you wanted to, you could work on the casino floor with me. However," Her brother might yell at her for this but she would say it anyways, "If you need a break from the... criminal underworld, by all means take some time to ponder our words. I'm sure Victor would agree with me when I say that the offer will remain open to you."[/i] Yes, that would do just fine.

It was only now that she looked away to turn to stare quite intensely at her brother, yet her sweet little smile never left, if anything it grew a little. He wanted Patience badly, and honestly Selina would like to have her on their side as well, but she wasn't stupid. If they did let her in, she could be a potential snake in the grass and betray them as well. Then again they had much better manners than Takatori ever did so maybe things would work out rather well. If she did join them, it meant it was all the easier to keep an eye on her as well. So what would she say? Now both twins were looking at her, Selina's head tilted ever so slightly as she was curious what Patience would say.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were just another random slut out on the dance floor." Her eyes flashed in an instant, the anger gone as soon as it arrived. A slut implied loose morals... a dirty woman. Patience was anything if dirty. True, her moral standards in the sexual arena could be considered a little stretched. Yet she only slept with who she chose and never for money. Disgusting. Yet, it was interesting enough that Victor had apologized in the first place. That meant he recognized her name. But how did he recognize it?

"Patience Vinrouge. You were that classless thug Takatori's bitch, weren't you?" Patience raised a finely shaped eyebrow. His voice dripped of contempt, under the fake awe. She just sipped at her water, choosing not to respond as he was too busy listening to himself talk.

"I never liked the bastard. No class, no style, just relied on brute force to get things done. That's why some simple fucking Royal Guard could fuck his operations six ways from Sunday." If Patience was a woman who showed emotion freely, she would have chuckled. This man clearly underestimated a lot of things. Firstly, he underestimated Takatori. He was clearly underestimating Elastor Ito and thirdly, he was underestimating her. He came in closer now, face close to her neck. He exhaled his cigarette smoke in her direction. Her lip curled up slightly in distaste as the smell wafted over her.

"Not me, I'm invincible, compared to that rat fucker." Patience highly doubted it. Anyone could die. Maybe not at the hand of a Royal Guard. But a well-placed needle? Different story. He watched her direct his voice back to his sister for a moment, even though he was looking at her. At least he was out of her personal space for the time being.

"What d'you think, Sel? Think we could maybe make use of her? Your bastard boss is long fucking dead, and I guess that puts you out of a job, eh? Why not join us?” So apparently she was useful enough just for being in the Men in White. She wondered what Victor really knew about her or her capabilities. She definitely didn't need a job; she had more than enough wealth. But his words did stir something dark. Something that she had thought extinguished. She had come to London to enter the light again, find legal means of making her mark. But... She rested the glass of water on the table as Selina moved over to join them.

"You can tell that Victor here shed no tears for Takatori when he died. I think your part in his demise was very subtle." Now that was an interesting comment. As far as the entire world knew, she had no part in Takatori's demise. Yet Selina had guessed at the game. She was smart; Patience had to respect that. “I was not entirely fond of him myself, by the time his demise came around. But he was my employer.”

"You don't have to be one of my girls. If you wanted to, you could work on the casino floor with me. However, if you need a break from the... criminal underworld, by all means take some time to ponder our words. I'm sure Victor would agree with me when I say that the offer will remain open to you."

An offer twice made. She felt a little distaste that Selina felt the need to point out she would not be hired as one of her little girls. As if Patience would agree to such a lowly position. Sex was pleasure, not the job. Although if sex helped the job... well, it made the experience slightly more pleasurable. And at this point, sex would help her job very much. The scent of want seemed to roll off Victor in droves, underneath the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. She could use that want to her advantage. And Selina clearly respected her past position in the underworld and her never-ending status in Cretan society. A bonus was that Selina was intelligent, which Patience had to respect. She looked between Victor and Selina, both with different appearances of expectation on their faces. She felt the occasion required something a little stronger. She looked from both of them, tapping her well-manicured nails onto the bar. The bartender hurried over. “Your best Merlot.” He nodded frantically and served it up promptly, likely for fear of annoying his bosses' guest. She wrapped her fingers around the stem, running them up and down it slowly before lifting the glass and taking a sip. She let the liquid roll over her tongue and down her throat, her tongue moving out to move its way across her lips.

“You see, the greatest part of a person of my standing,” She looked over at Selina. “Is that I can work as well as in the dark as I can in the light.” She drank another sip of her wine, glancing over at Victor. Yes, a drug-addled, hot-headed fool. That's what he was. But she had to appreciate that he was a fine-looking fool. Takatori had alluded her but Victor seemed more than willing. Would he prove manipulative through the bedroom? It was an interesting thought and at the very least, warranted a thorough amount of research. She looked back at Selina, a polite smile on her lips. “I believe our discussion of semantics can be tomorrow. In a quieter place, perhaps. After all, I did not come here tonight to do business.” She moved her eyes to the dance floor, watching the bodies moving together. It was an entrancing place and so sexual. She slid her eyes over to Victor, casually looking him over. Yes, definitely fine-looking. She sipped her wine again, her eyes smoldering as her smile turned a bit coy. “I came here for pleasure.”

“I was not entirely fond of him myself, by the time his demise came around. But he was my employer.” The alcohol had dulled Victor's investigative and analytical sense. Which, in reality, hadn't been too well-honed to begin with. He was far from being a moron, and had his head screwed on straight, but it was very clear he was the muscle of the Dresdens' regime, and was of a 'shoot-first-questions-later-after-a-few-more-bullets' mentality. “Your best Merlot.” Geh. Wine.

"'Was' being the damn keyword there," Victor muttered, before howling at the bartender, slamming his fist down upon the table as he did so. "GET ME SOME MORE FUCKING SCOTCH!" The barkeep obliged, sliding one swiftly across to his 'padron' before concentrating on Ms. Vinrouge's Merlot. The thing about Club Vivid that was although the boss' honoured guests were always of top priority, he was the one paying the bills and he was the one holding the smoking guns. The music thudded back in once more, and angrily, the arms dealer spun around, seething, his pallor a pale Drachman white as he rose his fingers into the air towards the DJ, who nodded nervously and immediately cut the shitty dance music out. "THAT'S ALL, FOR TONIGHT, FOLKS! Get going, but the club will be open, same times tomorrow, and I'll be here next Thursday, ladies!" Victor liked Lester. He was a good DJ; Esparian-Ishvallan parentage with a Cretan accent thanks to living in Philadelphia. More, Victor liked the money Lester made him, and his obedience. A good little lapdog.

He turned his head towards Patience. And would she be a good little lapdog, too? Pah. She was probably a bitch with a bite on her, but she looked and sounded productive from Selina's reports, and Victor's scotch-drenched mind, though he wasn't too far off seeing double... damn, did she look good. “You see, the greatest part of a person of my standing,” Even her voice was laying it on heavy, seduction around every corner, wreathing the syllables and thrumming from the bottom of her throat, subtly, but very much prominently. And Victor had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. “Is that I can work as well as in the dark as I can in the light.”

With that, he knocked back the last of the scotch. Oh, he'd done well to lay off of the drugs tonight. "Sel's right, the offer will always be well-and-fucking-truly open," He was slurring every other word now, but the message was still clear enough, as was the unnecessary swearing. "But if you try and cross us once like your dear boss, darling," Sweetest, honeyed tones. Falsest tones. Sickeningly so. "We will fuck you six ways from Sunday, and I don't just mean in the bedroom," He cleared his throat. "That's the one damn rule we have, and it should be clear and fucking highlighted by now. You've been warned, as is everyone."

“I believe our discussion of semantics can be tomorrow. In a quieter place, perhaps. After all, I did not come here tonight to do business.” Victor arched an eyebrow. It wasn't often that he did this in such a genuine and inquisitive manner; usually, he beat answers from people with the butts of pistols that he'd then wipe off and sell. Or, he'd cut their arms off and slap them with their own severed limbs as a source of macabre humour for the rest of the session. But... she was intriguing. Mainly sexually so, he had to say, but for the first time in a good few weeks, he wanted something desperately. And that was for her to finish her sentence as that coy smile hit her lips and his glance met hers. “I came here for pleasure.”

Tipping the glass back proper before he slammed it back down upon the table and allowing the scotch-laced remainders of miniature icecubes to slip into his mouth, Victor watched as his measure glass was refilled and he smirked at Patience, sliding the frozen cube into a vice-grip between two layers of molars. "Well," CRUNCH. "I think you might just be in luck," The second slipped eagerly into the teeth opposite. CRUNCH. Victor retrieved a roll of twenty-dollar notes from his pocket and slipped out at least a dozen eagerly onto the bar, and swiftly took to his feet. Now, the club was all but vacant, Lester, the DJ, being the last to leave as he packed up his turntables.

"We could go up to the casino," Victor suggested half-heartedly with a mock sigh. "But it's mainly just full of dreary motherfuckers and middle-aged businessmen with nothing better to do than practically give us their money," Then, he held his finger up, adjusted his suit, and swept his shoulders off almost ritualistically with a smile. He buttoned up his white suit, and straightened his tie with one hand, something dangerous flickering in his bloodshot crimson eyes, rings of red surrounding dilated black. But with Victor, there was always something dangerous flickering in his eyes like that. And usually, it was a little more than a flicker. Usually, it was a wildfire.

With that, he let his hands fall to his sides, swaying gently like the pendulum of a grandfather clock, and pressed a little closer to Patience and placed his mouth close enough to her ear that she'd be able to feel his breath on her bare nape. "...I could show you the VIP areas," Somehow, he figured she'd be able to peg that he wasn't talking about the public lounge for corrupt politicians and over-paid Wall Street yuppies...

So what was this snake in the grass going to choose hm? Retain the life of high standing amongst the Cretan nobles that sometimes visited their establishment? Or would she slip back into the darkness that still licked at her heels? Selina knew very well her capabilities beyond being a member of the Men in White. Granted, voodoo did make her nose twitch a bit, but she hoped herself to be smart enough to not warrant any little dolls to be made of her. That was such a downer after all. “I was not entirely fond of him myself, by the time his demise came around. But he was my employer.” Indeed, that was what Selina had heard. It wasn't hard to draw some conclusions from there. Since it was clear that if she wanted to strike at the twins, the female of the two wanted to ensure that they wouldn't incur her wrath without damned good reason. Besides, she was in no mood for souring spirits unlike her brother. Then again, he was just drunk at this point. “Your best Merlot.” Hrm. "'Was' being the damn keyword there," Oh for the love of..."GET ME SOME MORE FUCKING SCOTCH!"

Selina's eyes narrowed a bit for a brief second at her brother for his shouting, knowing better than to try to tell him to stop. It wasn't worth it. Not right now. So she left her own drink alone for the moment as she watched Patience with, forgive the pun, patience. “You see, the greatest part of a person of my standing, is that I can work as well as in the dark as I can in the light.” Oh-ho, very good! What politician wasn't corrupt? What lawyer didn't indulge in a hooker or two? What policeman didn't gamble on occasion? It didn't matter what standing in the world a person had, they still may reach for the darkness, dance with it because they think they can resist its charms. Very few can ever resist completely throughout their entire life. "THAT'S ALL, FOR TONIGHT, FOLKS! Get going, but the club will be open, same times tomorrow, and I'll be here next Thursday, ladies!" The corners of Selina's lips twitched as her girls slipped away from their charges, a couple taking their captured prey back up to the rooms upstairs. She nodded to them, knowing full well she would be receiving their reports once she was done here trying to keep her brother from making this a complete debacle. They wouldn't make as much tonight thanks to them apparently ending early. Sigh. "Sel's right, the offer will always be well-and-fucking-truly open," She leaned a bit further into the bar, now watching her brother very carefully. Her senses were tingling and it only put her on edge a bit. "But if you try and cross us once like your dear boss, darling," Good, he wasn't that drunk. "We will fuck you six ways from Sunday, and I don't just mean in the bedroom," She couldn't help but roll her eyes at that, sighing lightly as she glanced towards the door upstairs to where her casino, and girls, were waiting for her. "That's the one damn rule we have, and it should be clear and fucking highlighted by now. You've been warned, as is everyone."



“I believe our discussion of semantics can be tomorrow. In a quieter place, perhaps. After all, I did not come here tonight to do business.” She could tell where that statement would end, but her brother had certainly ended that end of pleasure rather perfectly now hadn't he? “I came here for pleasure.” Oh no... Victor was horny. He wouldn't let that go at all. Selina's features only changed to reflect some boredom as she slid off of her bar stool, smoothing out her skirt before stretching her arms up. "We could go up to the casino," What was with that sigh? "But it's mainly just full of dreary motherfuckers and middle-aged businessmen with nothing better to do than practically give us their money." Her arms lowered to her side as she cracked her neck, deciding that now was her cue to leave. She always hated it when her brother downplayed her side of the business that she coveted greatly. It truly was not his cup of tea and that was fine. Guns weren't hers.

She took a few steps to glance around the now empty room as janitors came in to sweep up the dance floor, the bartender beginning to clean up his station. She didn't bother to watch her brother draw close to Patience, nor did she decide to care too greatly. If he wanted to fuck her, he was her guest to. But she would be paying attention just in case if Patience decided to try any tricks upon him in his... inebriated state. Clearly, he wasn't thinking primarily with his one head right now. "...I could show you the VIP areas." "Yes well, Selina interjected quickly, turning now to face them with a little smile upon her lips, her eyes only for Patience at this point. "If you do decide that you'd rather observe my side of the operations, you are welcome to join me on the casino floor. I could have one of my men join you if you'd like. Free of charge. But then again," She now looked to her brother walking back over the couple of steps to clamp a hand on his shoulder with a slight squeeze, "Our VIP area's are quite lovely. The choice is yours."

Brushing her two long strands aside from her face, she turned her back to them and waved a hand in farewell, knowing that if nothing else she did have other work she could look into. "I'll be upstairs if you need me. I do look forward to our continued discussion Ms. Vinrouge. Have a good evening." And with that she ascended the last few stairs, casting her eyes down to them before she vanished beyond the door, taking a deep breath as she returned to the sound of slot machines, cards, and the clinking of coins being gathered. Ah.... delightful. A smirk slowly spread across her perfectly painted lips as one of her girls slinked up to her, her hands remaining at her sides as she strode deeper into her domain, listening to the updates with interest. Yes, Patience could fit here quite nicely if she so chose to.

Apparently her words had further inflamed Victor. He suggested the casino, but pointed out several negatives towards that particular option. He then leaned close to her, hot breath on her neck and the smell of alcohol invading her nostrils. His second suggestion was apparently far more to Victor's liking. Patience resisted the chuckle when Selina quickly interjected after Victor's last statement. Apparently sister-dear was not entirely pleased with Patience's decision for the evening. A twinge of jealously, perhaps? She came to the realization that working with the twins would require a finesse for balance. She could show no particular favoritism on one over the other. Tonight, she would play with Victor. She intended on working with Selina primarily; gun-running was not Patience's ideal position. Yet she would make herself useful to Victor as well. Patience was nothing if not adaptable. She took a moment to finish her wine, placing the empty glass onto the bar behind her. She turned on the bar stool so that her body faced Victor's. She stood lightly on her heels, body sliding up against Victor's as she rose. Her tongue slipped out, licking across her lower lip slowly.

“The VIP area sounds most entrancing.” She moved against him to stand at his side, casually slipping her hand into his elbow. She was nothing if not a lady when in public, even though the room was empty. Once they got upstairs... well, that was an entirely different story.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me. I do look forward to our continued discussion Ms. Vinrouge. Have a good evening." Victor nodded, waving a wayward hand and crossing eyes with his dearest sister once more before she made a quick sortie to her usual habitat. Knocking back another drink that the bartender so generously poured up as quickly as he could, still hurriedly rushing around to tend to the every beverage-related need of both the boss and his would-be guest.

"Catch you later," Victor murmured, shaking his head from side to side as he lowered his hand once more; the coke-vodka trickled swiftly down his throat, but the arms dealer was no stranger to the Drachman liquor, and even then, he now markedly drunk enough to be slugging back anything in a liquid form his bartender put in front of him - and all the more explosive for it.

He turned back to the Vinrouge girl with a smile, and it seemed as if she were getting more attractive with every waking moment. Beer goggles had been unnecessary in the beginning, but now that they were setting in, things were only getting better. “The VIP area sounds most entrancing.” A shame she hadn't opted to cut the idle chatter and head straight for the top floor, to Victor's own personal fortress... then again, it was far too well-armed for her to carry out a coup from within if she so wanted to. Perhaps it wasn't in her best interest to do so, but, even then, Victor had to consider every angle - even when he was drunk, and even the suicidal ones.

"Then that's where we'll fucking head!" Victor rose his glass and shot out of his seat with incredible enthusiasm, noting just how naked he felt with only a single pistol on his person. He let the last of the vodka-cola mix seep down his throat, then, thankfully, dismissed the bartenders as quickly as he could. The club was starting to lose its activity, now; eyes flickering to a glaring red digital clock above the podium he'd stood at not minutes ago made it out to be a few minutes past midnight. Victor lead his quarry beneath it and towards the elevator, slamming the button, the doors opening with a sleek mechanical whirring sound.

The elevator ride was uneventful, and as the doors opened into the VIP lounge, a sharp whistle broke the near-silence of the room. All around the room, Selina's girls dressed up in various outfits of high-class lingerie appeared to be tending to an array of multinational large, suited figures clutching $2000 bottles of Calish whiskey. Had Patience been keeping up with national - and even international - politics, she'd recognise a few faces; this VIP level was a regular haunt of high-class businessmen and politician, though Dietrich himself hadn't actually crossed the threshold with the intent of enjoying himself under the Dresdens' roof. Knocking his head towards the elevator, most of the politicians went pale upon seeing the Beretta slowly swaying beneath Victor's jacket, grasped their respective "lovers", and made straight for the elevator in a single, bustling stampede. Before long, the pair had the room all to themselves.

A few bulletholes in the lounges' walls and ceiling were still being filled from Victor's encounter with the Rosario twins a month or so ago, but for the most part, the VIP lounge was looking as snazzy as ever. It was a large room, easily the size of the dance floor, the walls lined with an assortment of leather couches, each fronted by a coffee table kitted out with glasses and an extravagant-looking collection of liquors which could be added to upon request and presentation of the appropriate funds, of course. The musty, combined stench of sex intermingling with cigar smoke hung heavy in the air, the latter not without reason; around the room there were ashtrays on various niches in the wall, some with half-smoked cigars stubbed out by the last party, the tips still glowing an angry red.

"Chez Vic," He muttered, throwing himself down upon a couch at the room's far wall, almost straight across from the elevator doors. He threw his arms up upon the back and sighed, knocking his head back and shutting his eyes for a moment, just inhaling, slowly breathing, and bathing himself in the silence. Even a drunken Victor, whilst very much happy with the money it made, had his reservations towards the dance floor below. The final echoes and ringing faded from his ears, and he sat back up and gestured for Patience to sit with him, before reaching out and raising an elegantly-designed bottle of a musky brown-orange liquid within into the air, shaking it from side to side. Whiskey, probably. Only knowing thus far that Patience enjoyed ice water, he smiled slightly and poured himself out a measure, throwing in a couple of ice-cubes from a bowl on the same table. "Drink?" If Patience wasn't in the mood for expensive malt liquor, then, of course, there was a wide selection on the table.

"I gotta ask," Victor said slowly, sipping at the liquid and sighing. That was the stuff... much better neat than mixed, in his opinion; though the taste was still just as strong. Retrieving his Marlboros once more and propping one upon his lips, and offering the pack to Patience, he lit up and sighed, shuffling around and hanging his arms over the couch's back. "What made you come to this club in particular?" The question was rhetorical enough; Club Vivid was widely-regarded as one of the best in all Creta, if not the world... however, maybe Patience had other favourites. Or, maybe... there was an... ulterior motive for showing up on Victor and Selina's doorstep, so to speak.

She was going to have to learn to accept the smell of liquor and nicotine again. Takatori was never quite so potent, which had been pleasant. But working with the Dresdens... she would have to steel herself towards the stench. Luckily, her parents had helped her practice that from an early age. Victor escorted her from the dance floor and into the empty elevator. He seemed relatively intent on reaching the destination. When they had, the room was quickly emptied of the original occupants. She had made mental notes of each gentleman (and woman) as they exited. A most diverse clientele... this knowledge would be extremely useful to Patience.

Victor threw himself onto a couch, lazing about like he owned the whole place. Which, of course, he did. Then again, she suspected he would have this air about him wherever he was. Patience joined him on the couch, her body a few inches from his. She felt warm and she politely declined the offer for whiskey. One drink of wine was enough for the evening. She didn't need alcohol for a buzz; sex would do that for her.

"I gotta ask, what made you come to this club in particular?" She turned her head slightly to face him. She raised one shoulder delicately. “I heard the music was good, a decent atmosphere.” Her hand gently rose and fell, manicured nails trailing along Victor's thigh nonchalantly. Her tongue snaked out, slowly licking her lips as her eyes roamed over the delectable form seated next to her. “But mostly, I heard tell of a very attractive club owner and had to see him for myself. I am not disappointed.”

Patience swiftly took her seat, declining his offer of a drink. “I heard the music was good, a decent atmosphere.” Victor shrugged. The club wasn't his speciality. Actually, it wasn't Selina's, either; as much of a breadwinner as it was, the dance floor itself was usually delegated to a respectful, though, typically, short-lived subordinate. The redhead liked to keep his employees on their toes. What better way to do that than regularly shooting at them?

"To each their own," He murmured, knocking back the last of the scotch, and setting the empty glass down with a sigh. Patience began to trail her fingers up his thigh; an inebriated smile drifted onto Victor's face. This was good news. "And I think I've found my own." He muttered in conclusion, raising his arm and setting it gently around the woman. For all his time in Drachma, with all the models that he'd fucked keeping themselves pale and stick-thin, there was still just something about Cretan women which he enjoyed more.

“But mostly, I heard tell of a very attractive club owner and had to see him for myself. I am not disappointed.” At this point, the fact that Patience was playing him for a job opportunity didn't enter his mind; he was really too drunk. But, even then, he wouldn't have cared, sober or not. Manipulative people came and went in this business, and his sister was one. Victor was upfront and callous; if there tended to be any sign that people were fucking with him in business, they took a bullet. Nothing more to it than that. He was open book for other tiers of manipulation. And there wasn't likely to be an "I fucked my boss" employment tribunal in this line of work any time soon.

"Well," Victor said with a smile, raising his arms. "The club's my fucking stomping ground." Fire flickered in his eyes as he stared into Patience's cool blue orbs. "But I don't like that to define who I am," Here came the spiel. "You know what I mean. Takatori was a dick, but even then, you had shit to do aside from all that Men in White bollocks." Victor, ever the eloquent crimelord arms dealer.

With a drunken, horny grin, slowly, Victor lowered his hand, trailing it down Patience's thinner form, along her arm, midsection, and slowly reaching her thigh, moving up and down in a series of slow motions. "Now I don't know about you," He spoke as calmly as he could muster; the only way to subdue Victor's immense animosity and anger was, it seemed, to put sexy women in front of him. "But it would be such a pain to move up to a bedroom when I can just lock down all the elevator activity..."

He shifted closer, moving his head up to hers. He hissed out a final sentence, scotch and nicotine hanging heavy on his breath. "And we can have this level all to ourselves." A grin, and slowly, reaching for a remote on the wall, Victor tapped in a combination of buttons. The elevator bleeped in the distance, the most satisfying ambience the room could muster. And, slowly, he moved in, like an insane, redhead vulture, for the first kiss of the night.