Her voice was husky, a form of seduction that left everyone stunned. Her hips gently swayed to the music, her eyes half closed, her lips slightly puckered. Her eyes trailed over every man in the audience, teasing them, daring them to look at her more. They were stunned by her beauty. She may have been a faunus, her light pink tail curling around leg which revealed itself from the slit of her baby blue dress, but the silkiness of her voice was enough to leave the most hardened of conservatives at her mercy.

Behind her stood the trumpet player, a chocolate-skinned young man who hid his lustful stare behind the thick shades he wore. His eyes were trained on the singer as he played her sweet melody, and he felt something stir in his chest. His eyes drifted down to her rear, and he smirked as he admired its perfect heart shape. He looked up and was surprised to see that the singer had turned around to face him, a knowing look in her sultry green eyes. She licked her lips and turned back to the audience, continuing to mesmerize them with her siren song.

They didn't know each other, the musician was simply hired by the club to play back up for some up-and-coming singer. This was his first time laying eyes on her, and he. Was. Hooked. The singer briefly stopped, and the musician took this as his chance to wow the crowd with an impressive solo. His fingers danced with the trumpet, his solo earning him screams of delight from the club's female patrons. His solo ended as soon as it had begun, and he ducked back, allowing the mysterious faunus to continue her own song.

Her song ended all too quickly, and the entire audience exploded into a cheer. The singer grinned, an entirely different expression than the one that clutched the musician's heart. She was happy, and she politely bowed to the audience, before slipping away as if she was never there to begin with. As she headed backstage, the musician stared after her, and without a word, he set his trumpet down in its case, closed it, and began walking towards the back.

"What are you doing?" one of his fellow players hissed.

"Taking a break," he replied simply. He waved over his shoulder and exited, heading towards the single dressing room. It was for the guest singers that would arrive, so he knew he would find his catch here. A sheet of paper was taped to the surface, with a single name on it. He peered at it through his shades.

Neon Katt

'Fitting,' he thought. He sighed and leaned against the wall next to the door and set his trumpet case down...and waited. He didn't have to wait long, the door opened not a minute later. She didn't notice him right away, but it gave him an opportunity to gaze at her once more. She had traded out the seductive dress for a more casual wear, one more suited for a patron of the club. A purple tank top that showed a damn good amount of cleavage, with a jean jacket thrown over it. She wore tights, a shade of dark blue. Her hair, which had been down before, was now tied up into four pigtails. It made her look younger, less mature, but maybe that's what she was going for.

He decided to speak up. "That was quite the show you put on, little miss."

She turned around with a jump, no doubt surprised by his sudden appearance. She calmed down soon after and looked him up and down playfully. "Weren't you the one staring at my ass?" she asked, her voice much lighter than her husky singing would've suggested. It was bubbly at the core, and the smirk that appeared on her face was one of mirth, not seduction.

He chuckled. "Guilty as charged," he admitted. "Can't blame me, though. A catch like you is rare."

She hummed and stepped closer. "And what about me is so rare, hmm?"

"You," he answered. "I've worked in this club for years, I've seen singers come and go, but none of them were able to capture an audience quite like you, miss."

She smiled, and he became aware of her tail running up and down his arm. "I guess you can say I have that way about me," she said, "I'm not like most girls looking to make a name for themselves."

"So you're hoping to get famous."

She tilted her head. "Is that so wrong?"

He shook his head. "Fame equals money," he answered, "and money is what makes this world go around, yes? Nothing wrong with wanting money."

She scoffed, and her tail pulled away from him. "That might be what you want, but I'm not in it for money."

He was confused, and he took a step closer. "Then what are you in it for?"

She stepped away from him, frowning. "I love to sing," she replied, "and I want to show people that. I want to show them that despite being a faunus, I deserve the spotlight just as much as anyone else."

He scoffed and chuckled hollowly. "An idealist, then."

"Is having ideals so wrong?"

"In a perfect world, no," he answered. "But this isn't a perfect world, miss. Money keeps you alive. Ideals keep you down."

They stared at each other for a minute, before she began backing away from him. "I feel bad for you." she murmured.

"Why?" he wondered, raising an eyebrow.

"You may be good with the trumpet, guy, but there's no passion behind it," she told him. "Whether there once was or not I don't care, but now you only play for money. You turned your talent into a cheap party trick, nothing more."

Beneath his shades, his eyes flared. "How...dare you say that?" he growled.

"Oh?" That damn smirk on her face became bigger. It wasn't cute anymore, it was aggravating. "Did I hit a nerve, big boy?"

'Deep breaths,' he told himself. "I play for money, yeah," he said, "but that's because I need to make a living. All of us need to make a living. That's how we survive in this world."

She shook her head. "I think there's more to life than that," she said honestly. "Life doesn't have to be just money and power, you know? Ideals have their place in the world too."

"And what happens when those ideals fail you?" he asked her, glaring. "They can only carry you so far."

"They'll carry you as far as you'll let them." she said, giving him a sad smile. "You lost those ideals long ago, didn't you? Go on, you can tell me what happened."

"I'd rather not." Damn her. Damn her for doing this to him. He was sweating, his heart was pounding, his head throbbing violently. His whole being hurt like a bitch, and as he stared at the girl, he saw a younger version of himself. Someone who played the trumpet for the sake of playing the trumpet, until the real world made him its bitch. No one appreciated his talent, not really anyway. He was expendable, and soon enough his passion faded. Try as he might to reignite the spark, it was hopeless. He was the world's pawn, lien was his blood flow.

"You don't know the first thing about me," he whispered, staring into her beautiful green eyes. "You don't know...what the world made me into." Gods damn him, he was shaking now.

"I think I have a pretty good idea," she murmured gently, her tail resting on his arm once again.

"For the love of..." He chuckled humorously. "I came after you looking for a kiss, not an entire breakdown of everything I stand for."

She smirked once more. "I have that way about me," she answered, before leaning in and pressing her lips against his. Immediately he pressed further into the liplock, wrapping his arms around her waist. She responded by prying open his mouth with her tongue, and the two fought for dominance. She pushed him against a wall, lightly grinding her pelvis against him. He moaned and reached over to give her ass a good squeeze, and she let out a cute squeal of delight.

The two broke away, panting heavily. She licked her lips and smiled. "You taste good," she complimented.

"I have to say you were better than expected," he chuckled and extended his hand. "Hey, I'm Flynt."

She shook his hand with a giggle. "Neon." She pulled away from him and sighed contently. "I gotta go," she said, "but don't forget our little talk, mkay?" She winked. "I'm sure we'll see each other again soon." Without another word she walked away, disappearing through the back exit.

Flynt stared after her, still breathing heavily. This girl...she was something else. She managed to tear down the walls he thought were invulnerable, and he felt exposed, naked. He sighed and grabbed his trumpet case, deciding to head back to the stage.

'Neon...' he thought.

He was looking forward to seeing her again.

...

A oneshot for now, but I may continue it if that's what people want. Don't forget to review! And remember, stay wykkyd!