i need to get something off my chest it’s my shirt let’s have a sex
((Thank you shug! :D))
(Thank you so much! :D
I shall turn into a cat now
(i am cat yes
thank you soooo much! :3 :D)
"Can I help you?" the woman asked, a smooth soprano tone about her. The pool hall was rather busy tonight and she always made it a point to rent one out for herself. Pulling her arm back, she let loose and broke the pyramid of balls and sent them scattering among the balls along the table. A cigar was burning in a cigarette bowl on the end of the table and created a smoke atmosphere. "You seem lost." Her smile was enticing but hid something.
He walks into the shady bar unmasked, simply looking to have a drink or two after a long night. Though he’s unfamiliar with the place, he acts well-versed enough, picking up a bottle up front and making his way towards the back room where the sound of cue balls clacking against one another resonated. Among the low hanging lamps there was a lone woman at a table all by her lonesome. Curious, Jason approaches her with caution, surely a woman so out of place would have a some sort of reason to be, after all.
Can I help you? she says, not even turning to face him as she skillfully breaks the pyramid of balls on the green velvet surface of the pool table. You seem lost, her voice resonates once more as he is caught off guard, the way she saw right through his confident demeanor was surprising. “Just wanna play some pool,” he chimes, an air of confidence still surrounding him as he makes his way around the table, eyes still on her, studying her form carefully.
"Quiet, aren’t we?" she inquired, eyes never leaving the table. Her waist long brown hair fell in front of her body, revealing her white dress to be strapless and the artwork of scars upon her back. They were of roses, leaves and vines in some demented, twisted and horrid design. Their color was that as black as tattoo ink and rose up from her skin almost a full centimeter. The scars stretched up her neck, across her shoulders and down the back of her arms, stopping at the elbows. They appeared to continue farther down her back, but one couldn’t tell with the woman still dressed.
"I understand. Gotham is a cold mistress and unless you know her temper can truly break the strongest." Clack! The cue ball hit against the solid red three ball. A red blur of a straight line whipped across the table and into a pocket with minimal effort from the woman. Picking up the cigar, she inhale and puffed out a mushroom cloud of smoke from her powerful lungs.
Taking it, she pulled out her lighter and let the flame roar under his cigar. “Perhaps you need to do that more often. Why don’t you flip on it? Heads says you trust me, tails says I’ll buy you a drink. Either way you win.”
His eyes glimmered brightly with amusement at her words before he settled the cigar between his lips, the flame only causing them to flicker even brighter as he puffed until the tip glowed. “How about you just buy me that drink an’ we call it even?”
"Oh, you’re no fun," whined the woman, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Her lips pulled up and back into a smile. She could feel them cracking and the skin ripping. The cold made her lips chap and the last thing she wanted was snow; yet it was all Gotham was as of late.