Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin property of Nobuhiro Watsuki. Nightlife property of…some gaming company with brilliant people that is probably now defunct. "Blades of Blood" characters used with permission of Vathara.

This is in Sano's POV

-----------

8 Months Later:

"Of all the bars in all the cities in the Midwest, you have to walk into this one." I pull my knuckles out of my eyes and blink. A bartender smirks at me, her glittery Mardi Gras mask hiding most of her face. Snakes coil up around her head, explaining the mask. Gorgons can't work with Kin public without breaking the lines of their faces and hiding their eyes. Sunglasses are most common, but some places break out masks and veils. I summon a smirk.

"Ah, a classicist."

"Medusa are big on classics, Sagara. What's your poison?"

"Scotch, straight up, and, HEY! How do you know me?" I protested, glaring at her. The snakes start hissing a familiar tune.

"Excepting Alice," The Gorgon sings softly as she pours me a healthy shot. I blink a few times, then thump the counter.

"Spitfire! What are YOU doing here?"

"You DID say I had to leave." She holds out her palm. I look at the glass, then back at her. She smirks. I'm starting to get a little annoyed. "Pay first, kung-fu-ey."

"Hey, I saved your life!"

"Where's your better half, then? He's a Master, makes sense he'll hold the purse strings."

"Wow, you got bitchy." I grumble, digging out my wallet. I throw a 10 down. "S'not here. This was personal." Spitfire takes the money and shoves the glass forward. I catch it and toss it down my throat. Another one appears, I toss that down too. A third showed up and I grabbed it. Well manicured fingers block the rim. I glance up, scowling. Spitfire's leaning over the bar. I can see black lenses over the eyeholes.

"Got a place to stay?"

------------

Here's the thing about Kin. Some are the "live & let live" types. They find their food, whatever it is, discreetly and don't cause a ruckus. Some are out to kill all the humans, which is STUPID when other Kin need the humans to feed on. But, the "Kill All Humans!" are also the "We're Number 1!" types and have no problem committing mass genocide on the rest of Kin-kind. Rarely do us Crowleys find a nice Kin, one willing to help out humans and other Kinfolk. 'Sai's one, Doctor G's another and I'm fairly certain that damn Fox is one too, if only she'd get off her high horse and let me kiss her once in a while. I swear, that Witch needs to get laid and I'm just the man to do it.

Apparently, I need to add a fourth to my "nice" list.

"Make yourself comfortable," Spitfire says as she lets us into her basement apartment in a not-too-bad part of the Windy City. She flips on a few lights and I whistle. This is a pretty big place!

"No windows," I observe, strolling around the living room and peeking down the short hallway. "Should've figured that for a snake-head."

"Hey, you want penthouse views, hook up with a banshee," She retorts, heading for the kitchen. "And don't go in my bedroom if you know what's good for you."

"No thanks. I prefer to remain ignorant of my death," I flop down on the couch. A TV, some ottomans shoved together, and walls lined with bookshelves, interspersed with table and floor lamps. I'd hate to have her electric bill. I hear various cooking-type sounds in the kitchen and start to get a little nervous. How much Scotch have I had, anyway? Was this really a good idea?

"Smart boy," Spitfire reappears, mask still in place and carrying a tray of little green sausages. She puts the tray on the ottoman not holding my feet, takes one of the green things and pops it in her mouth, staring at me the whole time. I grin. This is a Med tactic. Eat off the plate you're offering to a guest to show it's not poisoned. I lean over and help myself to one. The green stuff is actually a kind of leaf, wrapped around a meat and rice mix.

"Not bad, Spitfire," I say and take the tray. She smirks.

"Maybe not so smart after all," I choke on a bite as she strolls back into the kitchen. A phone flies through the door and lands on the ottoman in front of me.

"What the!"

"There's no cell phone reception down here. Call the cutie and let him know you're safe."

"Buh?" I ask, staring at the phone. It's been a long and very hard day. A strange hissing comes from the kitchen, almost like I'm being laughed at by a bunch of, well, snakes.

"You were seen leaving a Kin establishment with a Medusa," Spitfire explains, just this side of patronizing. "TA will know by morning. You don't want them freaking out, do you? Call your partner and anyone else who needs to know."

"You don't mind the long distance charges?" I ask, gingerly picking up the phone with oily fingers. That funky hissing sound again, mingling with chopping.

"A hefty phone bill is better then a naked blade at my throat for threatening Master Kawaii's partner. How do you like your steak?"

"Uh, uh, uh, rare," I stammer, totally thrown by the picture of a blushing Kenshin holding a blade to Spitfire's neck. God, it's been a bad day. I shake my head and dial.

"Spitfire, I have to hand it to you. For a snake-head, you can cook!" I say, leaning back into the couch with a satisfied sigh. Spitfire smirks as she takes my empty plate.

"Thanks, I think. Apertif? More Scotch?"

"You have Scotch?" I ask, lifting my head slightly. Again with that snake laughing! Spitfire disappears into the kitchen with the dishes.

"I work in a bar, Kung-Fu-ey. Where do you think they send the leftovers? The homeless shelter?" She reappears with a glass and a bottle of 50 year single malt from one of the BEST brewers in the world. My jaw hits the floor. First steak, now 50 year Scotch? I blink a few times, then frown.

"What exactly are you trying to do, Spitfire?"

"Kung-fu-ey, if I had designs on your body for my collection, I wouldn't have had you call Master Kawaii. That's suicide and I like living. Besides, I've already Fed." She waves the bottle in the direction of the kitchen. I look over at the pass-through, which also has two bar stools on this side, and see three rabbits of various sizes, all cutely posed and gleaming marble. When did she do THAT? She deftly opens the bottle and pours me three fingers. I watch suspiciously as she takes a healthy swallow before handing it to me.

"Besides, it's your mind I want."

"Say what?"

"Your knowledge, silly." She puts the bottle in easy reach and sits on the free ottoman, folding her legs into a lotus position that leaves me blinking again at her general flexability. That feathery green mask hasn't left her face, and the black eyeholes seem to bore into mine. "How DID a cute and shy guy like Himura-san end up as one half of The Deadly Duo?"