A/N: One day I will seriously write a proper one-shot with these two. But today is not that day. Little drabble stream-of-consciousness like thing into the mindset of Honky Tonk Women, 'cause it's fun.
Cheat
From the very beginning, they lived to tangle themselves in each other.
Spike Spiegel, who doesn't know which way is up, the man with slightly off-color eyes and a not-quite-there smile.
Faye Valentine, the Romany whose story needs editing, the girl with the secretly dyed hair and the coyly lipstick-lined mouth.
People in the crowd at the casino could tell. They come from opposite planets and opposite times, and so they were made to clash. She started off in control, because the dealers always play that game and Faye Valentine knew how to deal a mean hand. And he met her, a defiant player until the end, stepping above and beyond, as if he was daring her to cheat.
And cheat she did, though she didn't know he was going to cheat right back.
Faye was a little afraid of that, and Spike was too.
Cheating got you what you wanted, if you were careful. But sometimes, even if you were careful, it backfired, and there you were, facing the business end of a gun without even a foot to stick down someone's throat.
She states her bets, he meets them.
Rap-rap: his knuckles.
In-out: her breath.
Swish-swish: the cards.
Thump-thump: their hearts.
They were both of them afraid.
But they'd be damned before they'd let anyone know.
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