Myrna sold stolen jewelry on the same street as his drug sales. She frequently robbed graves of their sparkly treasures, a mischievous, curious and catlike look ever present in her eyes while doing so. She was not very clean, though, neither was Graverobber, he didn't mind. Her porcelain skin was ashy to the touch, and her matted black and purple streaked hair leaves much to desire with the average citizen.
Tonight she was wearing leather again. Her leather pants were accented with a red blouse, a jean biker jacket, and shiny black combat boots, useful for climbing the walls of the local graveyard. The pants accented her Bettie Paige style curves, and drew lots of attention from the passerby, a good attraction method for customers that she had discovered herself. Sex sells.
He coolly approached her, and leaned his arm against the wall beside her. "Hello, Gem." he muttered.
"Graves." she acknowledged absentmindedly, staring into space. He waved a hand in front of her face, but no further response from Myrna. He smirked and let out a wheezy chuckle. "Myrna, how on earth do you expect you make any sales when you are always daydreaming?" he teased and casually shoved her arm, accidentally knocking a emerald pendant out of her jacket pocket.
"Bastard," Myrna hissed, bending over to pick up the stolen object.
Graverobber wolf whistled, and grinned.
"Do you know how hard it is to bend down in leather? It's a pain in the ass. Do not do that again" she said grumpily.
"Myrna." he cooed.
"What, Graves." she groaned.
"Those pants suit you."
"There is no room in there for you, nice try." She joked with a little smirk on her face.
He started to walk away, casually slapping her butt, and sang slightly "Always a pleasure, to flirt with a woman in leather."
