Care For a Drink? [Tag; MickeyMouse]

[Faolan]

[ooc; I feel like my writing got worse... :l ]

It would have been a lot more exciting if there was more security at the door... or if he had been met with considerably more opposition than he had anticipated. Feng was only reminded all too clearly how much power the organization held over this region, and not for the first time considered a career change. Arioche, attached to his back like always, seemed at that time to sense her master's thoughts and constricted herself tighter across his torso as though she meant to bring him back to his senses. Such a feat wasn't a very common one, but she could at least try, right?

The sudden smothering the spinarak was assaulted with as her master nonchalantly leaned up against the wall spoke all too clearly his distaste for her insolence, but she didn't relax her legs any and merely clicked her mouthparts together rapidly to show her displeasure. Feng's pressure against the wall slightened, then eventually gave way as he moved off and over to a currently unoccupied table pressed up against the wall. Taking the hint that unless she moved quickly she'd be smothered again, Arioche leapt off of his back and landed soundly on the floor, a little trail of webbing following her flight. It eventually broke from her master's back and she scuttled her way up the seat on the opposite side of her owner and plopped herself nice and cozy in the cushions.

The club they sat in [if it could even be called that, it was so shoddily maintained] was currently thrumming with the sound of music pulsing through the speakers located... well, everywhere, it seemed. The few women dressed like whores who weren't on the dance floor were peppered around the area, either at the bar, over near the walls, or-- coming towards him with an alluring, seductive look. Now Feng himself was no looker, but he supposed, judging by the manner in which he normally garbed himself -- black pants, jacket, and a fair amount of silver on his ears and fingers -- he would give off the appearance of being in possession of a decent sum of money.

The Pravus grunt put on his most charming smile, though it might have been counteracted by the hungry, wicked look in his eyes that suggested something far more sinister, and splayed himself out on the booth in an inviting manner. But apparently the girl either saw his expression as something else, or found her attention captured by someone who showed far more promise than Feng, because in the next instant she'd veered to the left a bit and disappeared into the crowd.

"You'll be quiet before I squash that pretty face of yours, Arioche. Both of them," he drawled, rolling his eyes over at the spinarak that had begun to peek over the edge of the booth table at him. He couldn't see the expression on her backside but, judging by the way those beady black eyes sparkled with mirth, could imagine that there was a rather large grin on her bottom.

Feng smiled guilelessly at her. She blinked, then ducked down beneath the table with a scuttle of her thin legs on the cheap leather. It didn't take long for her head to pop up on the other side, right at her master's thigh, with the rest of her body following along as she climbed up onto his leg and then onto his shoulder. Once there she spat an affectionate glob of String Shot at his cheek and settled herself nice and cozy next to his ear to click annoyingly there for the rest of the evening. Feng only swiped at the white gunk on his face, chuckled, and turned to lean back against the booth seat and gaze out over the moving masses that filled the gym-turned-night-club.

[Mickey]

So much for a relaxing night.

Emerald orbs observed beneath the off-white, pale fur lining of a tan colored hunter's vest (hood). A slight look of frustration pulsed in the girl's eyes as they switched between two large physiques. Two large, sadistic grins matched the physiques; the grins loomed over the petite girl. To others, the men appeared intimidating, but to Michelle they were merely men: easy to take down (take that anyway you wish). It was a wonder how this girl always ended in messy situations. She simply strolled the back alley streets, following her feet, absorbing the rare quietness that hardly ever welcomed Michelle. However, no matter how hard the girl tried, she always found herself in trouble's embrace. Take for instance, these two men. They reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, obviously had one too many, and were now harassing Michelle for a 'good time'.

Michelle gladly agreed; she nodded and everything, and even began slowly taking her fists from her jean pockets, gliding her pale hands across her hips bones, up slowly to the silver zipper, but stopped there. The men were obviously intrigued by this, their grins widened but were cut off as one man doubled over in pain from a sudden fist to his gut. The man gasped for air; Michelle's kelp hues slid to her next victim and flashed violently. The man brought his large paw eye level to Michelle, aiming a drunken punch her way which Michelle easily side stepped before swinging her leg high into the air and knocking the man down by the neck; he grunted.

"Next time," The girl purred, "Find a more vulnerable chick."

"Bitch."

Michelle laughed, stepped over one collapsed man, then pressed the heel of her boot onto the other man's hand gaining a yelp of pain (to which Michelle replied with a satisfied 'Mmm') and stepped past entering the old gym. The girl was welcomed with an embrace of smoke-- either from a machine or just cigarettes-- and the smell of alcohol. Michelle also was revealed to an intense hot flash to which she pulled her hood down from her head, allowing the fabric to rest among her shoulders, then to unzip her vest slightly revealing the slightest bit of cleavage (or lack-there-of). The petite lady, for a while, stood at the entrance just eying the sight before her. She did not know if she wanted to join the steamy, hip-swaying dancing on the floor or to simply find herself a liberated table and order herself a few shots.

As Michelle approached the crowded dance floor, the stink of 'whore' overwhelmed her senses causing her to cough, turn around, and follow her feet in finding a table. The girl walked the aisle, narrowing her selections down to finding a booth sense every chair seemed to have been taken. As Michelle passed booths filled with a variety of characters either making out or... other involving things, one booth she passed, the girl felt strong hands grab her tiny hips and pull her back down onto an unknown lap. The girl's face fired up with rage, she immediately tore herself away and spun around to a laughing, drunk, man accompanied by two other--glaring-- whores.

"C'mon, baby, give me little dance!" The man's hand attempted a grab, to which Michelle stepped away and aimed a punch straight at the man's eye.

With no delay the girl turned and walked away. What was with people? However, if those two events-- with the two men at the entrance and the man in the booth-- weren't enough, the next man she spotted nearly killed Michelle on spot. Her emerald orbs widened, and her lips parted. Her heart told her to turn and to walk, NOW, but her mind was desiring the other grunt's attention. . .

"Well look what the cat dragged in..." Michelle teased, her left elbow propped on the wooden frame of the booth opposite to Feng. Her figure bent so that her right hip stuck out, with her right hand placed upon it. Her eyes played across the fellow Pravus Grunt, absorbing his leather attire, silver hair, and rust-colored hues, but she remained silent after her remark.

[Faolan]

Feng, for the most part, had been perfectly content to just people watch for the rest of the evening. The waitress had eventually seen fit to wander on over and come see if he wanted anything [not entirely a bad thing, she did have a pretty face that would twist nice and lovely when inflicted with pain], but before the grunt had a chance to respond with anything she had been called off by a rather loud crashing noise coming from one of the back rooms. Oh well. There would be other women, he remarked, silencing the sudden bout of rapid clicking next to his ear by tugging on Arioche's horn. The reason for her distress became rather clear when, from out of the blue, it seemed, he heard an all too familiar voice that sent thrills of excitement racing up and down his spine.

"Well look what the cat dragged in..."

Turning slightly, Feng found his previously uninterested, flat look falling on his last toy of sorts. Memories of their earlier encounter and the aftermath that followed flashed through his mind, churning his emotions and making a lazy, mischievous smile slowly spread across his face. Arioche gave a telltale hiss from her perch on his shoulder, pink mouthparts working to spin up a fat glob of String Shot just in case the woman decided to try something. Though, really, if one were to go based on their last meeting it would be the other way around.

With his entertainment for the evening now verified and more or less right in front of him, Feng pressed himself back against the booth and lounged comfortably. He wasn't ignoring her at all -- really he wasn't, cause he'd already given her a look of recognition -- and simply sat there waiting for her to make any other move aside from the casual line that was thrown his way. Arioche, after seeinig no sign of the Togepi that had graced their presence earlier, hopped herself off of her master's shoulder and landed with a soft thud on the table in front of the two Pravus grunts. From there she scampered over to the opposite booth, slid off the table and onto the cushions, and gave Mickey a look that quite clearly said "occupied'.

"Haven't seen a cat yet... but there's a little pussy right here..." Came his telltale drawl, eyes flickering up and down the form of the girl before him. Screw waiting for her to make a move, technically she had already, and he was always more of an action man, himself.

[Mickey]

After a few repeating beats, the rythym of the music embraced the girl before she knew it, her hips slightly began swaying to the music; her arms dropped by her side. Many waitresses crossed the floor, arms stretched high above balancing trays of drinks, serving them to the steamy occupiers of the dance floor. With a crisp whistle escaping Michelle's parted lips, a waitress glided her direction. The brunette lowered the tray revealing empty shot glasses, she gave a look to Michelle with her amber hues as if asking to 'hurry up'.

"What can I get for you?"

"A double..." Michelle snapped, eyes wondering off as the waitress tipped the Vodka bottle, the clear liquid filling the shot glasses.

Michelle lifted her pale hands to the tray, grabbing the two shot glasses from the waitress and downing both-- one after the other-- on the spot before placing the empty glasses back onto the tray. The waitress swept herself from the booth before disappearing into the crowd. The pre-adult wetted her lips, her mouth stretching to a sly grin and her emerald hues peeking at Feng from the corner.

"Yeah, there is a pussy here, and he's dressed in leather." Michelle turned her facade completely towards Feng, slipping into the booth across from him eyes never leaving (she gently nudged the spider to make room).

Michelle decided to not bring Raisin with her that evening for obvious reasons. She was going to the Pits, that's reason enough, but also because Raisin is only extra baggage weighing Michelle down from her real capabilities. (Take for instance the punching and the kicking of the two men before). The pre-adult's kelp colored orbs dropped to the spider pokemon protecting the cushions to the left of her. Michelle simply snorted, and scooped the spider up with her left hand-- by the hind leg-- and dropped the thing on the table top.

"Hope you don't mind me sitting," Michelle rolled her eyes, lolling back, her knees spreading and her hands fisted in her lap. Her eyes once again met with Feng's.

"So, what's been..." Michelle grinned while searching for the word, "entertaining you since our last mess, hmm?" The girl slipped her tongue out the corner of her mouth, "Anyone as good as me?"

She giggled. Before the last song could end another waitress appeared at the table, smiling madly with another tray of empty shot glasses. Her ocean blue eyes surprisingly slid to Feng, swallowing his appearance with just a glance. The girl inhaled, smiling her cute little lips in an almost sexual manner before placing shot glasses infront of the two-- putting more emphasis in leaning over the table for Feng.

"How bout' I serve a double for the two of you, hmm?" The waitress offered, pouring Michelle first. Michelle only watched with a slight bored expression.

The girl then tipped the bottle to Feng's glasses, licking her lips all the while as if saying 'any other way I can serve you, call me'. Michelle finally laughed, slapping her hand on the table and arched her brows. "How pathetic... seriously lady?"

The waitress rolled her eyes and grabbed her trey before retreating to a different table. Michelle gave a mocking look before her own eyes retreated to Feng. "Okay, so where were we?" Michelle grinned reaching for her newly poured doubles and downed the two in an instance. She gave a satisfying exhale before eyeing Feng's doubles.

"Oh yeah! You being a pussy and me being... well... simply awesome?" Michelle nodded, her pale hand reaching across the table for Feng's drinks her green hues locked Feng's, a smirk playing her lips.

[Faolan]

Arioche, surprisingly, was the first one to react to the unwanted presence of the girl now sitting in her spot. After being handled so brutishly by the hind leg by someone other than Feng [even though her master had shown such vicious treatment to her before and, by all accounts, she should have been used to it by now], it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise when she spat out a rather large spray of webbing in Michelle's general direction upon being dropped onto the table. Her aim was off purposely and she didn't much linger to see if she had hit her mark, but, satisfied her displeasure had been voiced in some form, she scuttled herself across the table and up the waiting arm of her master. There she took up her previous perch on his shoulder and watched the female across from them with beady, untrusting eyes.

Feng was, himself, too amused by the woman pouring them drinks to really pay as much attention to Mickey as he should have. He had seen the look in her eyes and while not necessarily interested in what she had to offer him physically, the fact that her emotions seemed to display all too easily on her face had him feeling a bit of attraction to her. What other expressions could possess those pretty blue eyes, he wondered...? But then of course his fun had to be interrupted, in turn, by the female that had first intruded on his little outing. It wasn't as big a let down, because he still had the presence of Mickey to fall back on if his boredom should ever escalate to insufferable levels... but Feng hadn't been known to practice the concept of restraint and, in his eyes, the phrase "the more the merrier" had been one of his favorite slogans to live by.

When the waitress left and he found himself alone with a spinarak and a flat-chested nuisance, the Pravus grunt then let out a weary sigh and turned fully to face the female that had demanded his attention. Up till then most of what she said had escaped his notice after the waitress's arrival, and not because it was too noisy but because he simply wasn't ready to play with her quite yet. Now, with no other distractions he could willingly succumb to, he gave his fellow grunt his full attention ... though whether or not she would be pleased with that was left entirely up to her interpretation when the events of the evening started playing out.

Noticing the wandering hand that was inching over towards his own shot glass -- he'd never really been one for drinking and didn't know what possessed the waitress to pour one for him -- Feng promptly hissed a command to the spider on his shoulder and she rose swiftly to obey. After spinning together a bit of silken thread rapidly in her mouth, she reared back with a telltale hiss and spat it out at the little glasses sitting on the table before them. The force of the hit was enough to push them to the side a bit, but the spinarak quickly amended this by yanking the vodka closer towards her master and out of reach of the greedy girl across from them.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to take anything that didn't belong to you...? Greedy little bitch." Lowering his hand to pluck up one of the glasses, Feng managed to sever the bit of thread connecting it to his pokemon and lifted it up to his lips. There he took a swift inhale of the strong-smelling liquid, made a face, and promptly tossed it over his shoulder and... probably onto the head of some unfortunate individual behind them. He couldn't be bothered enough to care, though, and merely draped his free arm over the back of the booth to peer at the female he hadn't seen in quite some time.

"Still the same as ever, Mickey-Mouse.. Where's the little egg-baby you were toting around last time? Did it finally crack?" All the king's horses and all the king's men... his mind automatically supplied and, grinning, he hummed the rest of that little limerick while waiting for the girl to respond to his questions. Not that he really expected her to, if her attitude was the same as their first encounter.

[Mickey]

((This post sucks ballz. BTW :/ ))

Pale green eyes flickered to the movement of the spider pokémon, Arioche. The girl watched with slight interest as the spider reacted in a predictable way, obviously expressing its discomfort to the previous action. The petite girl watched as the mass of string was shot her way; however, its aim wasn’t exactly accurate and leaped over the booth cushions onto whoever was the unfortunate fool sitting behind Michelle. The girl laughed, her shoulders rising slightly to her snickers before her eyes rested upon the spider a gently smile caressing her long lips, but the smile disappeared as quickly as it had formed. The spider always intrigued Michelle ever since the mishap with Togepi, maybe not on good terms but it was definitely interesting.

Michelle puckered her lips to a slight pout as she watched the shot glasses being pulled from her reach. And just to think she was beginning to like Arioche! The girl rolled her eyes, giving a disgruntled grunt before leaning back and resuming her earlier position, her head slightly tilting as she watched Feng, her eyes filled with a disappointing boredom. What happened to the fire in this guy? He’s so relax now, it was quite unsatisfactory. Michelle licked her lips, brought her hand to her mud brown hair and ran her fingers through her brunette locks. She sighed, so tempted to just get up and leave the Pravus grunt to himself, but something told her to stay and so well she did.

Michelle's ears perked to Feng’s voice, her eyes averting from her lap to the grunt. A sick smile slithered across Michelle’s features after hearing his remark. The girl chuckled tilting her head all the more, becoming parallel to the cushion, her hands on the table surface. Her eyes flashed dangerously among Feng, her teeth bearing.
“You should know it by now, I like it r-rough.” Michelle clicked her tongue, rolling the ‘R’ before retreating to her normal position her eyes dead serious. “Besides I hated my mother.”

The girl pressed her palms on the cushion pushing herself up as she swung her legs onto the cushions, her back now further to the wooden wall supporting the booth. Michelle pressed her back roughly against the booth, her hunter’s vest protecting her from the roughness of the wood. The girl brought her knees close to the chest—that to Michelle’s enjoyment has moved from a size A to a size B—throwing her arms over her knees, playing with the laces on her combat boots. She gave no sign of listening to Feng as he continued to speak, but sadly, Michelle heard every word and her features cringed when being called Mickey-Mouse.

Michelle rolled her eyes, releasing a heavy sigh before lazily rolling her head to Feng, her eyes: bored: She had no intention of answering his question, it wasn’t really something she cared to talk about, but she did shrug her shoulders.

“It’s sad, really,” Michelle started, her hand resting on her hairline, pushing the brown tresses from her face. “How boring you’ve become! Look, we’re actually sitting and talking, who would’ve thought…”

The girl’s lips pulled, revealing her pearl white teeth, “But I guess some of us do lose our qualities—you being one of them. No worries, I’m sure you’ll find something to do with your new asset.”

Michelle pulled herself forward, her arms now hugging her knees; her green eyes still watching Feng. To Michelle’s surprise, she was bumped forward half-way over the table from a sudden jolt in the booth behind her. The girl hissed, violently turned her head to peer over her shoulder spotting a couple literally sucking the life out of each other in the cushions closer to Michelle, and the occupier of the opposite cushion was rocking the table back and forth, laughing. Michelle’s jaw fixed, her eyes darting all over the table, Feng, and even herself trying to find something to beat the hell out of the people behind her with. The girl’s fists flexed, the sudden rocking had stopped. Soon Michelle lolled back once more, her fists resting in her lap ready to lash back and pound her victim(s). “I hate people,” she mumbled breathlessly.

Michelle had no problem with sexual relationships… or anything sexual really, but she hated the roughness in public especially in a freaking booth (or at least when it isn’t her that’s doing it). The girl huffed, her eyes fixed on her pale fists. Just when everything was getting calm another rock pushed Michelle forward causing the girl to whip around, her knees propping her up just enough to be revealed chest up to the booth behind her. With a swift yet brutal motion her pale fingers laced through the couple’s hair separating their lips before smashing their foreheads causing the two to fall forward knocked out from the impact. The friend on the opposite cushion was too drunk to really know what was going on, and was just sitting there laughing. Michelle dropped back in her seat and turned to Feng.

Michelle puckered her lips, “Silly kids…” Which was an understatement since they looked older than her. “A little blood never hurts a relationship…” The girl gave a nod, her tongue brushing her top lip unbeknownst to herself.

[Faolan]

( Nnnngh Feng's refusing to come out completely. The muse is being stubborn. :U )

Feng himself had not taken notice of the two little lovebirds behind Mickey, which was probably why he hadn't done anything about it. Perhaps something had changed about him or maybe it was a case of him being too tired these days to actually allow his thoughts the freedom to run rampant through his mind as they normally did. Whether it was because of the fatigued state of his body and mind or something else entirely he didn't really know. Arioche had sensed it and, though the clicking in his ear was one of the only metronomes keeping him grounded [odd, really, since the club was loud enough to keep his tumultuous thoughts from taking over his mind], she ceased the clicking of her mouthparts and instead started to bounce herself eagerly up and down on his shoulder.

His rust colored eyes surveyed the laughing drunkard behind Mickey and, unable to help himself, he let a small smile curve his lips at the sight. That smile gave way to the occasional chuckle or two, and then a bit more aggressive chortling, his form hunched over the booth and hand slapping the table. It wasn't long after that before the dam waters broke and he was full out laughing his ass off, at both the circumstances that had fallen into his lap that night and the girl that he had, though he was reluctant to admit this, missed for quite some time. Their game that night had been one of the most entertaining and he had been rather sad to see it cut short before the real fun could be had. Boyish, delighted peals of laughter rang clear and true in their little space and it wasn't long until Arioche paused in her bouncing to give her master a somewhat worried look. Anything beyond a chuckle or a "heh" was not common occurrence, so this odd behavior after hours of calm had her on edge for one reason or another.

Eventually his mad laughter died down and he upstretched his hand high in the air and snapped his fingers twice. The waitress from before who had been eyeballing him and given them both drinks came over within a ten second time span, hips swaying generously though he didn't pay it much mind. Feng did not know much about alcohol business, but he gave the woman a gesture suggesting her to leave the entire bottle with them and she did without much protest. By this point the look on Arioche's face had rearranged itself into a squiggly scowl and she spent some time practically glaring at the woman until the waitress straightened and left.

The bottle was a rather large one and certainly one that he wouldn't be able to finish by himself, as the contents were a little over half-full. What he did take note of, though, were the words proclaiming "100 proof" plastered on the front and sides of the colorful label. There was still a shot glass in front of them and he plucked the bottle up from the table by the neck, tipping it slightly in offering towards the female in front of him. "That little feat deserves a drink." Not bothering much with being careful, he poured a generous amount into the glass in front of them, overestimating how much it would take to fill the little cup and ended up filling the drink to overflowing. The liquid sloshed generously over the table, across it and-- probably dripping right into poor Mickey's lap and all over her clothes.

If the mischievous gleam in his eyes was anything to go by, he'd probably done it on purpose, too. But he smiled his most pleasant smile and withdrew the bottle as though he'd just been burned, form rising to a stand while Arioche maneuvered herself around to cling to his back. "Whoops. My bad."

[Mickey]

Flashing lights brilliantly patterned themselves sparingly among Mickey’s pale, petite figure. The girl shifted in her position, bringing her feet to her while her thumbs played across the tips of her boots. She sat, puckering her lips as she simply stared at the man across from her, as if wanting to solve a puzzle. Michelle, earlier at their first encounter, swore she’d never entangle herself with this man again… ever. But look at her now? Sitting across from him, still with limbs attached, and him not trying anything on her, the girl scoffed. The Pravus grunt lifted a tiny hand, running her fingers through her hair for what felt like the billionth time that night, her eyes averting to the spider perched on Feng’s shoulder.

The spider pokemon definitely was intriguing, and cute—in the sense. Obviously spiders being cute had to be an oxymoron, but to Mickey, Arioche deserved something better than Feng, but hey—the two seemed to get along fine. Michelle’s grey hues followed as the spider bounced up and down, up and down before they flickered to the sudden movement at the end of the table. Supposedly Feng called for a waitress. Michelle didn’t know what for, but those waitresses here ticked her off. All the other whore-ish girls ticked her off. It pissed the hell out of Mickey to see girls selling their bodies, and ten out of ten the girls’ bodies are ugly… However, Michelle did wish she had their breasts… The girl’s facial expression turned sour, her eyes plastered on the waitress haltingly as if burning laser holes.

Of course Feng’s random laughing fit nearly caused Michelle to leave, not so sure whether to be afraid or to just get the hell out of their as quick as possible, but the only thing the girl did was stare awkwardly while her brow twitched slightly.
Michelle hummed, her lips puckering once more. She did approve of the large alcohol bottle placed before the two, her eyes dancing wildly while her lips slithered to a smile. The pre-adult brought her hand over the table ready to grab the bottle, but frowned when Feng beat her to it. At first the girl thought that the man was going to toss the bottle at her and/or break it on the table and run the ragged end in her face—these thoughts definitely did not comfort the girl, causing her to lean back into the cushions, her hand dropping into her lap. However, her eyes slightly widened when—instead of all the above—Feng poured her a drink.

“…Wow thanks,” Mickey smirked, licking her lips as she reached for the shot glass, but instead of grabbing it quickly stood up knocking the table along with the shot glass over, the liquid pouring to Feng’s side.

The girl whimpered, a slight moan releasing her lips as the burning began to guarantee it’s presence on her pelvis and inner thigh. Mickey was so tempted to just unzip her pants and strip right there, but who knew what men roamed the Pits, let alone having Feng in front of her.

“You asshole!” Michelle gasped, patting her lap with her hands since there were ironically no napkins on the table. The girl shook her head her brows furrowed. “How bout’ I help you get your drink?”

The girl offered, smirking as she violently tipped the bottle in all hopes of it splashing upwards into Feng’s face—preferably eyes. Michelle unzipped her vest, revealing her low-cut white top fully, wrapped the vest around her hips, covering her pelvic region, and then shoved her hands down the vest, and began fiddling with her buttons and zippers until her jeans slowly slid off. After kicking her boots off (since some of the liquid slipped into her shoes) the girl successfully removed herself from her pants, while still having the vest there to cover her, and placed the clothing on the table with a grunt. The vest worked, it had two circles on either side showing half skin and half shirt, but other than that it covered everything else pretty well to three-inches above her knees.

“You’re lucky I’m not kicking your ass right now,” Michelle grinned, her eyes expressing all levels of violence on the fellow grunt.

[Faolan]

The events that unfolded before him were not met with a look of discontent or anything of that nature; really, to him, it looked as though Christmas had come early and he had just received a highly sought-after present. It was all Feng could do not to break out into laughter or helpless chuckles again, but when he saw, as if in a dream, the contents of the bottle being splashed up into his face he was a bit surprised. Thanks to Arioche's quick thinking in the form of a barrage of Poison Stings fired in the alcohol's direction, the bottle instead shattered upon being penetrated with so many points and glass rained down on the floor and table around them.

A bit of alcohol did manage to splash up and into his face, but the most that got wet were his cheeks and lips. A few nicks and scratches as the jagged edges sliced at his skin was all that Feng had to show for it, along with a faint burning sensation on his lips that made them feel chapped, but he didn't much mind and brought a slightly bleeding finger up to his mouth to taste. The burning of the alcohol that had gotten into the nicked finger was a pleasant sting, really, and he hissed as though in satisfaction, eyes flickering up to the girl responsible.

"You wear that look well-- but not well enough. Want some more...?" He near-leered, gaze already shifting to the workers that had drawn closer to investigate the source of the problem. Standing like he was, there was a wide range of options available to him and he took his time in surveying each of them with moderate interest. If only those pesky workers would go away... But no, they took their time looking, fretting-- and only when he gave them a casual smile and waved them away did they retreat to their respective posts, each under the impression that the situation would be well taken care of.

Arioche, after deeming that no more untoward attacks would be made toward her master without her consent [which probably wouldn't constitute it as an attack, if that were the case], repositioned herself back on the shoulder farthest from the scantily clad woman, her black eyes roving over the makeshift skirt with a bored disinterest. The clicking of her mouth parts rapidly sounded... almost mocking, like she were laughing, but the look on her bottom was still a flat line of indifference. As if she were asking Feng permission for something she turned to fix her eyes pleadingly up at her master, but either he didn't notice or simply pretended not to. A waitress was coming by with a platter of drinks on her arm and he was eying them almost hungrily.

When she had gotten to within arm's distance he gave her his kindest, most sweetest smile -- one that probably would have thrown Mickey for a loop if she had seen it -- and slammed into the back of the waitress' knees with his leg. The resulting momentum caused her to pitch forward, the tray practically shooting out of her hands and spinning towards Feng's fellow Pravus member, drinks sailing off of it with accompanying shatters of glass as they hit the floor. At the same time Arioche leapt off, a strand of webbing attaching herself to her owner's chest to soften her landing as she hit the floor and began to spin her webbing rapidly between her arms, starting up the beginnings of a Constrict attack.

"Have one on me, sweetheart-- Really, I insist!"

[Mickey]

Damn. It hasn’t been nearly ten minutes and Michelle could already feel a breeze through the many revealing holes/ slits in her attire. The girl made no uncomfortable gesture, but only kept her arms crossed at her stomach, a steady glare directed upon Feng. She watched her fellow Pravus grunt stand, after that damned Arioche Poisoned Shot the alcohol bottle. When the glass shattered, showering remains over the table, Michelle had to step outside of the booth to dodge any more possible clothes ruining accidents (though not really accidents).

However, Michelle’s kelp colored hues watched Feng in his sick blood tasting routine. How much she wanted to smack that hand, but hey who cares? It was his insanity that nearly allured Michelle to him. The girl huffed, her grip around her stomach tightening as she ripped her gaze away from the man and onto anything but him. She sadly averted her eyes back to him when she heard his voice slithering past her ears.

“Shut up,” Mickey snapped, her eyes narrowed and her long lips snarling at the grunt. Boy, could he be annoying as shit sometimes, but hey, who isn’t to say Michelle is just as annoying? (If not more, really)

The girl rolled her eyes at his kind gestures to the waitresses. If they only knew… She actually would love to see other women get close to Feng, that’ll only make the excitement all the more…excitable if you may. Mickey smirked, lowering her head so she was peering at the grunt from below her brows, giving her an almost dark look. She could see something mischievous coming her way, and hell, she was practically awaiting it with pleasure on her mind. Her eyes, however, flickered to Arioche who seemed to want to do something. Mickey didn’t know, she wasn’t fluent in … spider, but with the way the pokemon eyed her (more specifically her hand-made skirt) Michelle definitely did not feel comfortable under that stare, though she did mentally thank Feng for not giving his pokemon any disturbing orders.

Michelle lowered her arms, her hands lying limp by her thighs as she followed Feng’s gaze, now eyeing an approaching waitress. Damn it, this place is swarming with waitresses. Why can’t they just go away? But instead of the lady approaching the two and setting up drinks, a—definitely unexpected change of events occurred. It was a blur, the whole kick- fall forward- tray to the face- drinks everywhere- movement, but all Michelle could really recall was lifting her bear arms palming the tray, but getting hit with glasses and drinks pouring on the crown of her head. The girl’s jaw lowered, and her eyes looked at the ground, keeping the alcohol from running into her eyes.

“You dickhead!” Michelle yelped, shaking her hands and staring at the table recollecting what had just happened.

The girl felt the alcohol sliding down her mud brown tresses, dripping onto her clavicles. Michelle eyed her shirt and rolled her eyes sighing. Shit. Shit. Shit. She just so happened to be wearing a white shirt, her hair just so happened to be dripping liquid—liquid plus white shirt equals shit out of luck. Mickey licked her lips, shook her head, then casually made her way to Feng’s side of the booth—not paying too much mind to whatever the spider was doing on the floor at the moment—and lashed out, aiming to grab Feng’s shirt collar, and pulling him close (nearly inches apart) while her other hand tensed to a fist.

“Alright, you asked for it, now I’ll be more than glad to give it to ya’.” Michelle arched a brow, bringing her fist up, eye level, reeling back as she hooked forward aiming for his facial region, careful not to put too much strength into her blow or she’d trip forward and land into a certain Pravus grunt’s lap and that wouldn’t be fun.

[Faolan]

The reaction to his little stunt wasn't much of a surprise; if Feng knew Mickey [ and really, they had had enough in the way of interaction for him to get a general idea of her persona ] he knew that she would have exhibited the best reaction to his little stunt. One that would be both entertaining and lead up to an endless source of amusement for him. Perhaps that was why he hadn't quite done away with her just yet. She wasn't like other females he'd encountered in that she didn't bend over and let things be. She actually stood up and reacted, and in the most endearing way possible. Mickey reminded Feng time and time again of Arioche, but not really in the manner that either of them would have liked. Idly he glanced down at the spider, watching those little forelimbs move quickly and efficiently to spin a large loop of webbing that grew wider with each passing second.

When he felt the sudden jolt as he was yanked forward into the dripping face of his "coworker", he merely smiled guilelessly and waited to see what would happen next. Yes, this girl would prove time and time again to be a joy to keep around; it would be a shame for him to end their games so quickly. Pain lanced through the side of his face right after her fist slammed into his cheekbone and it was all he could do not grunt at his body's weakness in receiving pain. Sure, he'd had his bout of wrestling matches and bites and what have you administered to his person. That didn't mean that Feng was completely numb to things like this.

The force of the impact was enough to send his head to the side a little, but not enough to cause unbearable pain throughout his face. After a few moments of quiet stillness in which Arioche had turned, expression curious, to see what fate had befallen her master, Feng's hand came up, curving his long fingers around her wrist and squeezing tight. Slowly he turned to face her again, hair a little disheveled from her punch, but not quite so because there hadn't been much strength behind it. The platinum strands fell over his eyes, eyes which now beheld a look of raw hunger deep within their dark surfaces as he surveyed the girl in front of him.

"Give it to me...? Is that all you're going to give...? Greedy, greedy little princess... I expected far more from you." Came his low murmur, a husky coo that didn't do much to make up for the look in his eyes, or the exhilarated smile now curving his lips. His grip on her wrist tightened and he wrenched Mickey's arm away, leaning forward so that he could slam both it and the girl down into the booth seat and out of sight of the prying eyes all around them. Whether or not this succeeded was not left up to him; even if it had, the fact that Arioche had finished spinning what looked like a makeshift noose would help to tip the scales in his favor.

The spinarak was now paused, her webbing half intertwined around her limbs as she awaited her master's next order. If the expression in her eyes was anything to go by, though, her patience was fast wearing thin and she would start acting without orders if her owner had her waiting any longer. Such reckless behavior would warrant another punishment, and while Arioche did so enjoy playing with her master's prey almost as much as he did, the memories of all the ills inflicted upon her for her impudence did not sit too well. They'd just finished cleaning her little cage, it would be a shame to get it dirty again.

"Why don't you show me just what kind of girl you really are...?" The beat of the music rose to a near-deafening pitch; it was enough to block out the brunt of his madness. "Give me something to work with here, Mickey-Mouse. You're fast losing the game."

[Mickey]

Michelle gave the most shocked stares that she has ever expressed in the longest of times. He actually let her hit him? And yes—let her hit him, because knowing this mighty Feng he could've had her on the ground with a simple nudge. She hated to admit the point, but she wasn’t as stubborn as him, she knew her place in the world (or… at least tried). If she were picking a fight with a large behemoth of a human, then yes, she wouldn’t want to take her chances of being smashed into the ground by a bronze thumb. However with Feng, he’s like her only a male. Ha. Ha. Lean, mean fighting machine…and a bit on the insane side, but that’s okay though.

The girl felt her flexed fist slam into his cheek, the force turning his head slightly to the right (his left). Mickey still couldn’t believe she actually hit him, but her shocked expression had only lasted a few seconds before she knitted her brows once more, leering at the man. Her fist lingered on the spot as if absorbing her accomplishment in actually laying a punch on the grunt. Mickey’s lips smirked, puckering a little as she parted them ready to speak, her words; however, were caught in her throat when she felt cold, slithering fingers seizing her wrist. Michelle bit her lip; what the hell did she just get herself into—again?

Mickey knew she was hunting for his rusty hues before, wanting to make sure he saw her face as she—well—punched him, but when he recoiled slowly from the blow, turning his head ever-so-slightly, hair lose in front of his eyes, she never wanted to see those eyes again—but hell, why in the world did this man have to be so damn attractive? It was always the insane ones that had the looks, wasn’t it? The girl grimaced; a sudden ill feeling permeated her peritoneum. She wasn’t too fond the look he gave her, eyes dark and boiling. Mickey would’ve moved on spot, but she had her fist seized—at the moment the rest of her froze.

The girl arched a brow at Feng’s statement, she scoffed once he finished. If he wanted more all he had to do was ask. Michelle brought her right hand up readying another punch but to her surprise—and much amusement—felt the room spin before her, a sudden breeze picking her muddy locks as she collapsed to the booth cushion with a ‘thud’ and an ‘all-too-excited’ Feng on top. Instead of a struggling look clouding her face, she glanced up at Feng with a wild grin and narrowed eyes. Oh, ho ho, bring it.

“You want more?” Mickey hissed, licking her lips all the while.

Michelle surveyed the area before her. It was a tight, definitely sweaty, area with little room to work with. The seat cushion to her left and the table to her right, she had no real place to go except just stay there underneath Feng. But knowing her, and definitely knowing Feng, that jus won’t suffice. There had to be another way—there always was another way; to which the girl averted her wondering eyes back to Feng.

The girl picked her head while underneath Feng, lips inches away from his ears; they brushed his ear, her breath hot and delicate on his skin , “I’ll give you more.”

With a quick thrust from her right hand, slamming dead-center Feng’s chest in all hopes of him lifting slightly so Michelle could bend a knee placing the heel of her foot on the wooden end of the booth for leverage (at this point her do-it-yourself skirt was not a top priority, no matter how high it slid down her thigh). From there she’d simply push with most of her strength to get him tipping slightly, then she’d swoop in for her advantage and push him completely off the booth and on to the floor next to Arioche, but now with Mickey on top. She’d have her wrist still in his clasp, but her fist would be slammed by his head, her right hand sliding to his neck so that her hand could clench it.

“How do ya’ like me now, bitch?” Mickey laughed, flipping her hair slightly to get whatever that was clinging to her forehead to un-cling and fall lose over her dangerous eyes.

[Faolan]

Faolan hadn't quite expected her to take all his attacks lying down, and it was more of a relief than an alarm when she reacted the way that she had. If she'd been as submissive as everyone else, well, that wouldn't have been much fun at all. That was probably the only way the boy could be expected to show mercy to anyone, when the will to fight had been drained and they were nothing more than a limp body waiting to die. By that time the entertainment value had been severely decreased and continuing further would exert energy the grunt could be putting to more progressive activities.

But this wasn't always a possibility.

"How do ya' like me now, bitch?"

This statement, accompanied with a sudden breathlessness and a tightening around his throat Faolan knew all too well, didn't do much to put a damper on his spirits. If anything it seemed like his eyes had glazed over with sheer pleasure and a rather content smile began to spread across his face. This--- this was what he lived for. This rush, this adrenaline-- and Arioche knew it, and she did not surge forward immediately like a good pokemon would have to aid her master in his peril. She knew, just from looking at him, just by knowing what sort of person he was, that this was what he enjoyed most. To interrupt this would surely mean her death, and she had quite a ways to go before she was ready for that.

So Arioche simply sat there, waited, watched; all with the web-noose still hanging from her pink mouthparts and entwined around her forearms, waiting for the sign when she could move without her master's disapproval.

With his hand still curling fingers about Mickey's small wrist, he had to bring his free one up not to grab at her grip on his neck-- no, instead he moved it over to gently dig his fingers into her smaller hips and tug her forward encouragingly-- the added pressure on his neck made him see stars, but he rather closed his eyes and indulged in the sensation for a few moments before it was time to get down to business.

His long legs bent at the knee behind the girl, braced on the ground; he bucked and twisted all at the same time, the touch on Mickey's waist pushing her to the side in an attempt to roll her over [away from Arioche, of course, in case she was feeling stupid and decided to linger and be squashed] so that their positions would be reversed, once again, and she lay beneath him.

"I think I like you just fine..." Came the telltale whisper, his voice low and husky beside her ear. There was want there, definite want-- but it was probably not the sort of desire that she would have wanted. His eyes, when he leaned back and the light caught them, were maniacal, hungry; not for her body, but for something much more sinister.

[Mickey]

I HOPE THIS WORKS!))
I know this might be a bit straight forward on her part, but we can still keep this a game x3 Till we hit the rooms<3 Lol.))


Has anyone ever noticed how oblivious the bar actually was? It wasn’t just a few people that didn’t notice the situation at hand, but the whole damn place. Well, maybe Michelle should be giving the people some slack, it was a busy evening, and there were tons of customers in dire need of shots round the table, but seriously—Mickey knew when something was messed up when a freaking employee walks by, nearly steps over the two on the ground, just to get to the table behind them. Either that girl needs help or she’s just plain stupid. Michelle rolled her eyes, she hated dim-witted girls, and so decided not to worry about it now, later she could beat some sense into that spineless, scantly dress blond.

This blond, however, knew what the task was at hand: the devilishly handsome, conniving Faolan beneath her. She had successfully carried out her actions, she was on top pretty much straddling the man, with left hand flexed beside his head and her right hand slithered around his neck. She was control, and that was what she wanted. What more could he want? They’ve played long enough for Michelle to understand that Feng enjoyed the challenge, and that he sure as hell enjoyed her in control—for a short period of time apparently because even now he became restless. However his actions slightly surprised the Grunt, not too much, but it did cause the girl to tense. She was expecting a more lashed out response, probably a slap on the face or maybe his own hand against her throat, but when she felt his large hand press against her hip, grabbing it slightly and then it pulled her forward, Michelle couldn’t help but to shiver under his touch.

Was it so bad to want this to happen? She couldn’t deny that his touch felt good. The girl kept her dangerous, emerald gaze low on Feng, she was anticipating a larger blow to follow. Michelle surveyed the man’s face, his expressions always seemed to hold that devious glow, and his eyes always seemed to glaze over with pleasure from pain, and the girl slightly smirked. If it was pain that he wanted, she sure as hell could give it to him. Even though it probably would’ve been smarter to keep her right hand attached to the man’s neck, she quickly removed it, formed yet another fist and aimed directly for his jaw, but her aim rocked back and forth when she felt her body shifting due to the man bending his knees. Damn her for being so damn petit, she could never hold her own balance, and so quickly snapped her right hand to the other side of Feng’s head in hopes of leveraging herself on top. The female Grunt puckered her lips in frustration, her eyes narrowed at the man as he pushed her hip—maybe she should allow this? While lost in her thoughts Michelle had completely rolled to the floor, Feng once again on top.

As she rolled, her ears caught Feng’s voice. A tiny flicker of a smirk played across Michelle’s lips as she hit the floor. The girl’s dull eyes searched for Faolan’s visage. Mickey slowly blinked, a tiny malevolent smile quirked at her lips as she pressed a exaggerated sigh. “Well it seems the fire has died down,” Michelle started, her eyes not connected with Feng’s malicious amber hues.

The pre-adult took her free hand and softly touched Feng’s jaw line, leaving only vestiges of her presence as she glided down his collar bone, tugging teasingly at his shirt before pausing at his chest. “Can’t keep up?” The Pravus Grunt cooed dangerously, her index finger tracing little extraneous designs on his shirt fabric before roughly reaching to his belt loops, her thumb pressed against his skin, pinching the pant fabric from the inside as her other fingers curled around the fabric, bunching it up. Once she had a good hold, she tugged, but not only did she attempt in pulling him to her, but she also used his sturdy body as a leverage to pull her to him, their hips dangerously close. “You should really learn, you know.”

“Or you’re gonna’ lose my interest, bitch.” Mickey parted her lips; her eyes fixated on Feng’s own eyes, filled with the same dangerous desire—probably not exactly the same, but a desire nonetheless. She wasn’t getting sick of the games they played, that’s what made them so… inclined to see each other, but she definitely wanted more out of him—this could be asking for too much, but Mickey wasn’t like normal girls, she was hard to please sexually. (If this was sexually).

“So how bout’ it?” Michelle whispered hotly, her eyelids semi-shut and her green orbs staring down at the man as she tilted her head back. “Are you worth my interest?” She laid her tongue at the corner of her lips. The hand that gripped his pants loosened a bit only so that she could stretch her fingers against his leg, softly touching his thigh.

[Faolan]

[ooc; Late reply is late hrrrrngh]

This game of theirs was going downhill fast. While Faolan wouldn't admit openly that much of the thrill had changed into a different sort for him, one that he was unused to, that didn't mean that much of his fun had been done away with entirely. His pupils seemed to dilate a little under her rough touch as that familiar feeling of helplessness coursed through him, setting his nerves tingling and the heady surge of adrenaline pumping fast through his veins. He knew he wasn't helpless, he knew he had perfect control of the situation and could just as easily put a stop to it whenever he so wished--- but the thing was, he didn't want to.

It didn't help any that their bodies were dangerously close [he could taste her, just about, could smell the aroma of her hair and the thick, choking odor of the alcohol that had been doused on her form], nor that he found his gaze lingering for far longer than it should have on her mouth as it murmured those words to him. There was a strange fascination with Mickey there, one that he couldn't quite place right off the bat but couldn't deny the existance of immediately. In some strange way he almost considered her kin, or something remotely close to it; he wouldn't ever admit aloud that that was how he felt, but he could say that he honestly enjoyed her company, and the entertainment she could provide for him was certainly not going to end anytime soon; or so he hoped.

He had to brace himself on his arms to keep from falling completely atop her --- because surely then she would take advantage of the situation to gain the upper hand --- and tensed in response to the hand on his thigh. For a moment it seemed like the amused glint in his eyes had flickered into an expression he rarely wore -- surprise, and maybe even a little bit of shock and uncertainty -- but it was quickly gone and he was practically leering down at her once more.

There was no love lost between them, but this relationship was not the sort that was showcased in movies and romance novels. Faolan didn't know just what this was, but he knew he didn't want it to end any time soon. The most he could liken it to was a... competition, of sorts. Yes, a competition. Winner take all, one triumphs over all, things like that. If they were not fighting then, well, there wasn't much of anything else between them. If they were not arguing, were not trying to dominate... then they would be just like everyone else in the world, no, worse, because they had fallen into that same, mundane pattern of conformity.

Someone had to come out on top.

Someone had to win.

"I think..." Faolan murmured, voice barely above a whisper. If this was the game she wanted to play, so be it. He wasn't going to lose, regardless. "That maybe you won't be the one able to keep up..." He pressed hard against her, letting her feel the searing heat of his body and the way it seemed to fit perfectly against hers -- almost as though nature had intended them to end up this way from the very beginning.

And it was because of this fact, because right now, in this position he could really almost taste her, breaths coming out gently against her lips, that he did what he did. Nevermind the fact that there were people around to see, that if he ever came back here this was what he would be remembered for.

Teeth nipping hard at her lower lip, he bent to take her mouth with his own and crushed their lips together in a kiss that was not soft or sugar-sweet, like in the movies; it was hungry, raw and meant to control, almost as though he would devour her or else force her into submission. The prolonged contact between them had pushed his nerves to the breaking point and he let out all his frustration against her lips, biting and pressing against her roughly until he was certain she would be sore and hurting beneath him.

From the sidelines Arioche merely stared, shook her head and climbed back into the booth seat.