The Sheathing of the Sword [DRAFT; DISCARDED]

Deadly Nightshade

"Another round for everyone! It's on me!"

The bar in Sicily erupted with cheers, as festive and lively as ever. All the patrons cheered in unison, and the Puerto Rican man grinned genially, waving his tankard of ale in the air. He loved moments like this, with everyone happy, care-free, enjoying themselves. 'These are the moments that make life worth living,' he thought, eyeing everyone's expression -- especially the pretty lady in the corner booth. Ay mami, this woman was smokin' hot, and he had only seen her back. And by back, he meant behind.

The man gestured to the handsome young bartender, leaning on his elbow while he continued to look at the woman. "Hey, Loki, who is she? The lovely honey in the red one-piece dress?"

Loki's green eyes followed the gaze of the man, an amused smile appearing on his youthful face. "Ah, I see you've got your eye on the resident man-eater." He chuckled. "It's fitting you referred to her as a "honey". Her name's Deborah, which means "honey bee." She's more likely to sting you than let you taste her sweet 'honey', if that's what you're thinking." The man cast a look at Loki; was that a wistful tone he heard? 

"She shot you down, I'm guessing?" Loki instantly blushed, spluttering about for words with which to deny it. The man smiled. It seemed that Loki had feelings for Deborah, but she had rejected him, so...

"Alrighty then! I'm going to go try my luck at the jackpot. Watch and learn." And with that, he was off, sauntering towards the seductive woman. 

He slid into the booth, a charming smile at the ready. She didn't acknowledge him. Already that put a frown on his face; he made the effort to come all the way over here. Couldn't she at least acknowledge his presence? He decided to go for it anyways.

"Hola, mamacita. What're you doing here all by yourself, alone on such a fine night?"

She calmly took a sip of her drink, ignoring his existence altogether. That vexed him even more. He was trying to make polite conversation. What is up with this bitch? He wasn't about to give up, though.

"Where's your man?"

Her amber eyes turned on him quickly, hostile and intimidating. Immediately, the man felt he had crossed a barrier he shouldn't have. Her luscious, blood-red lips opened to speak, but the man found himself more interested in her eyes. That certainly wasn't usual for him.

"And just why do I have to have a man? Is the concept of a woman coming here of her own free will, on her own, alien to you? No doubt you think that I should have a man with me at all times."

He wrenched his eyes from her gaze, sizing her up. Ample breasts, slender and curvaceous figure, flowing dark hair. Her hair fell in slightly wavy tresses, framing her slender, smooth face. Heavy-lidded amber eyes glared at him; they did not miss his eager inspection of her body, as though she were a piece of meat to buy.

He looked back at her, a toothy grin on his face. "Because someone like you is too pretty to be alone. Someone might take advantage of you." He reached his hand out to take her's on the table. A thud stopped his fingers mid-stretch, though.

A knife was implanted in the table, right between his index and middle fingers. 

The man looked down, stunned, before looking up at her again, grinning toothily once more. "Feisty. I like that." 

"Would you like a trip to the hospital? Leave me be, male."

He quirked an eyebrow. Male? Was that all he was to her, just another man trying to get in her pants? He crinkled his nose. It was true, he figured, but she didn't know that. He was starting to get annoyed at her lack of courtesy.