Charon was tapping an index finger against the table, mindlessly watching the wiry mercenary beside him shuffle a deck of cards. Beyond the safe sanction of the double doors of Emry's, the wind howled, and clouds burst forth with pelting rain. The storm did not appear to be forgiving anytime soon, and he had to contend himself inside the saloon with a simple game of poker. Lydia had retired to the room Evelyn had purchased for her- it would appear his tasked stalking was only continuing to frighten her. Charon didn't bother in attempting at placating her in hopes she would become more comfortable around him; his mind was preoccupied with other dilemmas, at the present time.

The bounty hunter was already eight rounds of straight whiskey in, with a growing pile of caps at his elbow. He had traded his packet of cigarettes for some cigars, and he enjoyed the heavy smoke over his tongue as he roiled the flavor around his mouth before he puffed some rings.

Evelyn was absent for the time being, and the ferryman observed the merc beginning to become inebriated; something clearly troubled him. He did not know whether or not the two had another argument.

"That's it- I'm out-" The man to his right slapped his cards down on the table, belching loudly and then turning in his seat to smack the prostitute's rear at his side. She gave a jump and he laughed. "Let's go, darlin'. I ain't all out of caps yet."

A jingle of caps was added to the betting pool. "Care to raise?"

The man on his left held his own; the second one to his right sucked air through his front teeth and gave a low whistle. His caps, too, were added. Cross grumbled inwardly to himself but threw in as well. Charon folded, stretching in his seat as his eyes surveyed the room.

Across the way, amidst the hazy smoke and ambient lighting, was a smoothskin woman leaning against the jukebox. She was immensely striking, but her features weren't what had caught the ferryman's eyes- she was staring directly at his employer with a guarded expression, and he mentally checked her against his threat list. It was nonexistent.

The saloon was riled with the voice of Frank Sinatra.

"When an irresistible force such as you, meets an old, immovable object like me-"

Cross's blank poker face was mostly attested to her, at this point. A sign of anything, and he was afraid she would devour him. It was a cat and mouse game, and, unfortunately, he found himself as the pitiful field mouse, drenched outside in the pouring rain as the feline calmly watched from behind closed windows.

"You can bet just as sure as you live-"

He was a fucking ghoul; he was more terrifying than he was charming-with most smoothskin women, the one obvious unincluded-and he already had a relayed status. When he was suddenly now taken again, after two hundred years, why did all of these women seemingly take interest in him?! The merc couldn't figure out her angle, and there was a tiny part of him that didn't really care to know.

"Something's gotta give, something's gotta give, something's gotta give!"

Cross felt a wave of danger settle under his muscles; an instinctive glance up met with the ferryman's burning eyes across. The hawking bastard had caught the underlying tension between himself and the woman, and his face had a silent message only he could decipher.

Don't you fucking dare.

The merc's fingertips wiggled against the backside of his cards, and he tossed the cigar around his mouth. Another quick look was given to his employee, but Charon no longer acknowledged his existence, as his gaze was stolen across the room behind him.

"Damn," Campbell breathed, and the bounty hunter turned in his seat from curiosity.

"When an irrepressible smile, such as yours, warms an old, implacable heart, such as mine-"

Evelyn was standing at the bottom of the landing, visibly embarrassed, in a red-wine dress he didn't even know she had. Her fingertips gripped the side of the stairwell railing, her wide eyes drifting around the room.

The dress was…revealing. The slits drew alongside her legs and came dangerously high up her thighs, and she uncomfortably held the ends together to try and prevent the extra show of skin. Her modesty was endearing, and even after having her naked image burned into his irradiated brain for all of eternity, he still hotly desired to see what was underneath. The clothing was so tightfitting he could make out the individual curves of her ass, and the fact she wasn't wearing any lingerie underneath. That tumble of wavy hair was wild, and overthrown on one side of her shoulder, the ringlets and curls bouncing as she whipped her head around.

The merc gave a stupidly drunken stare, draping an arm over the back of his chair as he rubbed at his jaw. Meekly, she went to the bar counter, and the skin of her legs glowed under the soft light as the fabric fluttered behind her, the click of her heels tapping across the wooden floorboards. Evelyn perhaps attracted more wandering eyes than he was comfortable with, but he couldn't help but smirk idiotically at his luck. She was downright gorgeous, and it was enough to make him giddy with mirth.

Charon had now risen from his spot, parting a warning look with his employer.

You do not deserve her.

The bounty hunter's eyes tracked him across the room. Evelyn was now settled, and Charon took the seat beside her, ordering them each a drink. The ferryman rapped his knuckles against the counter while engaging in conversation with her. Charon was a good bodyguard; she was able to enjoy their easy company together in relative peace.

Hell, if he didn't know her, he may have tried a shot at her anyways.

The merc folded his cards down, preparing to join her at the bar. His eyes roved upwards. "Campbell, ya tryin' to speak some words? No? Then shut that fuckin' mouth."

A click, and an awkward chuckle. "You're a lucky bastard…mostly just a bastard."

A sloppy chortle in agreement.

The other mercenary at his side gave a stupefied guffaw, his eyes still trained on Evelyn. "Holy fuck, no fucking way. There's no way. I've known you for years- you can't tell me a fucking shuffler like yourself has a woman like that."

Cross's rugged thumb tip grazed against his forehead, slightly raising the brim of his hat. "You talkin' like she would ever end up with someone like you- we both know that's a fuckin' pipe dream."

"You got to be burning through caps, there ain't no way."

A shrug. "Believe me, don't. Doesn't change how we fuck every night."

"So, how much she charge?" The man by the name of Teddy Smith snorted. "I'll out pay you."

Cross growled at the other mercenary. "Watch your damn mouth."

"Be careful Ted," Campbell said lowly, thrumming his cards against the wood. "Fair warning, Cross ain't the one you should be worried offending."

"C'mon Campbell, you're thinking it too. That's too good looking of a woman to be with a walking corpse like him."

Cross let out a chuckle. "Fair."

"You can't tell me you aren't paying for her."

Campbell gave a low, inaudible hum in his throat. He had a good hand this round. "I didn't believe it the first time, either."

They all simply watched the bounty hunter bag his previous winnings and leave them for better company.

"Charon, quit fucking growling! You sound like a feral." The ferryman snapped an evil glare at her. "Well then stop."

A sigh of irritation.

"Good bodyguard," Cross suddenly rasped behind her, his fingers crawling up the skin of her back. "God you look so sexy, when did you get this?"

"Stop it," she spat at him, clearly still upset over their earlier arguing. She smacked his hand away. "Fuck off."

There was a bout of hollering from the poker table at the blatant rejection. The merc just gave a cheeky smile, ordering himself a drink. The bourbon laced a trail of fire down his throat, and he gave a loud belch, earning a crinkled nose from his lover.

The ferryman was rubbing his hands together irately, and he gave a pointed stare to the blonde smoothskin woman spying on them across the way.

Evelyn nervously shifted in her seat, constantly fidgeting with the slits in her dress in an attempt to cover her exposed skin.

"Stop holdin' your sides, it's not goin' to run off with ya," the merc snorted.

The tight grip of her fingers fell away, and she shyly clasped her hands in her lap. She burned nearly as dark red as the dress, bashful and timid.

"Was there something you wanted?" She avoided his gaze, spinning her beer bottle in a teetering circle on the counter.

The merc grunted in affirmation; his empty glass was set aside, and he breathed in the scent of her as he nestled himself flush against her back. He wrapped a strong hand around her jaw and tilted her chin upwards to catch his shadowed eyes, granting him a fantastic view down the front of her dress.

"You," he rasped lowly. She blushed a wonderful shade, and he dipped his other hand over the counter and into the ice bucket, filching a cube and rubbing it between the valley of her breasts. "Heh heh."

The action had engrossed more than a few glued stares.

"Eek!" Evelyn slapped his hand away, and the frozen cube skittered across the floor. "Are you fucking drunk?!" she hissed at him.

There were now a few drops of water cascading along the visible curve of her breast, and it was such a turn-on he instantly got hard. He leaned into her, rubbing at his mouth as he was trapped staring down at her dumbly. The weight of his hand gave a slight squeeze around her jawline, and he felt her breath hitch in her chest.

A massive, crimson hand grabbed at his bicep, halting his fingers from creeping around her neck. "I think you are done," Charon growled. The interaction between the two had made him significantly awkward, and they were attracting unnecessary attention.

The merc gave a snarl of his own in admonition, but he removed himself to instead swaddle her face in both palms, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I'm good- I'm good." She smelled of light citrus and something sweet, and he took an inhale of her as he tenderly kissed her lips.

Betty Hutton cried through the speakers as he stood back upright and nabbed at her hands, ignoring Charon's disgruntled face as he pulled her from her seat.

"Everyone tells me he's no good, he doesn't love me like he should-"

He twirled her in a circle, winding her into the crook of his arm. She breathily giggled, her long hair dancing in the soft light of the room as he spun her back out, and he smoothly caught her as she tripped over her own foot.

"I would forget him if I only could-"

"Two left feet," he commented, and she lightly smacked his chest.

"He's a demon, he's a devil, he's a doll!"

"I didn't know you can dance," she replied, smiling up at him as he moved them away.

"Used to be pretty good," he attributed honestly. He hesitated, and then made up his mind. Gently, he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her hand up in the other, slowly weaving them in circles. "Ow."

"That man can look me in the eye, and tell the biggest, sweetest lie-"

The blonde entertainer had moved to the edge of the bar, and she was smoking a cigarette with a mused expression on her face. The haze of his eyes met with her sparkling ones for a very brief moment.

"And I forget that lipstick on his tiiiiiie!"

"Sorry," Evelyn laughed, lifting her foot off of his. "I don't know how." She was growing increasingly embarrassed at her inability, and she playfully shoved him away after a few moments. "I don't dance."

"Sometimes I make up my mind, that I'll stop being so blind-"

He grabbed back at her hand. "It's just timin' and-" His eyes partway closed in a suspicious manner, and she blinked at him.

"What?"

"And I'll tell him off real baaaad!"

"Coordination. On second thought, I don't think dancin' is for you."

She gasped at his bold mocking, attempting to wrench away. He pulled her flush against him, wrapping his arms around her and settling his hands against the small of her back. He then leaned his head down against her own and closed his eyes. They swayed for a few moments, before he kissed her slowly.

"But then he turns on those charms, and there I am in his arms, and I forget why I'm mad!"

Evelyn teasingly smiled at him as she pulled down the tip of his hat. "Can I help you?"

He blinked down at her. He was still drunk, and for a moment, he simply viewed her as a complete stranger. She was devastatingly lovely in that burgundy dress; the long cascade of hair overflowed down her back in a voluminous wave. Her bright, ocean eyes were regarding him with mild curiosity, and she bit her full lower lip as she studied him critically.

"Can I get you a drink?" Were the only words that were able to leave his mouth, and he just stood there, stupefied at his own lapse as she giggled at him.

She stretched upwards on the tips of her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You can do more than that."

He was brought back to reality, and he realized just how fucking lucky he was to have this creature at his fingertips. "Want to go fuck?"

"Ugh- you are so romantic."

"He's a darling, he's a dreamboat, he's a dog!"

"Takin' that as a yes."


He cracked a thumb at the bed. "You know what to do. No-" She halted in unstrapping her dress. "-don't take it off."

"You're gonna make a fucking mess-" She slapped his suggestive look down with a glare. "No way, whatever pervert fantasy you wanna play out-"

"What? That's not fair," he groused. "You know how damn hot this cowboy getup is?"

She planted her palms on the sides of his face, trying to smoosh his leathered cheeks together. "But you look so sexy in it. All shrouded and mysterious." She bit her bottom lip, staring at his mouth lustfully, and it was the sexiest thing he had ever witnessed.

He twined his fingers through her long hair along her scalp with a pout. "Aww, c'mon, baby-" They shared a passionate kiss, and he gave a breathy groan. "-just for tonight." He was rubbing at his mouth, and there was a hungry glint in his eyes.

Her face felt hot and she grew momentarily faint at the pet name. He had never called her that, before. The overly lustful tone of his raspy voice made her tremble. A flush of red crept up her neck, and she was soon kneeling on the edge of their bed. A rough hand was then planted firmly around her jaw, his fingers tapping rhythmically along her cheeks, as the other one swathed underneath her dress and over the front side of her vulva, cupping over the swelling and exploring her for a few moments.

She soon dissolved into helpless whimpering, as he picked up his pace and was murmuring explicitly into her ear. He angled her chin up, and she drew flush against him as she was forced to meet his predatory gaze. Her eyes closed against the overwhelming passion of his stare, and his hand tightened warningly around her face.

"Fuckin' look at me," he demanded.

She complied, and her eyes locked onto his as she bit her lower lip, and she was grinding against his hand as he skillfully played the orchestral tune that her body was composed of. He had every bit of her memorized when it came to sex, and he knew exactly which strings to play and which to let rest until a later chorus.

"F-f-fuck!" she cried, shuddering violently as she came and he drastically slowed himself, gently increasing the intensity of her orgasm with his fingers. "Ah- wait!"

Another wave, and he got her a second time.

He finally decided to join in, and he released her to lean forward on all fours as he undid the straps of his pants. His cock was throbbing from the pent-up excitement, and he inserted himself, taking his sweet, slow time in tempo as she was still riding down from her high. He pressed her face down into the bed, watching himself riding in and out of her. He slapped at her ass and she cried out in surprise and he grinned. Suddenly, he stopped, and he was breathing hotly down her back as he leaned over and lowly growled some sexual suggestions. She complied, putting in the work herself with the thrust of her hips, allowing him to stand back and simply watch as she pleasured herself with him.

He removed himself from inside. "Finish me off."

She knelt before him. Her hair was gathered in a high ponytail, and he simply ran his fingers gently along her face to catch the loose strands as she worked at him with skilled practice.

"Jesus-fuck." The tip was left inside of her mouth for her tongue to swirl over slowly. When he was near, he quickly thrust back out, grabbing at her face as he came all over it. It was perhaps his favorite.

The merc groaned as he glanced down to buckle, not realizing the inherent risks he had taken before the deed was finalized. "Aw, shit."

"W-what?" Evelyn breathily asked, swiping at the mess he had bestowed.

"You're so damn wet- got it all over my coat…and- holster...how-?" he mumbled under his breath, proceeding to strip down.

She flushed, embarrassed at the exchange and his verbal complaints. "Sorry, we won't do it again."

"Wasn't what I meant, goddamn…I guess you just baptized me."

"Oh my God."

"You really do like the outfit."

"Shut up."

"Shit, if I knew this sooner- waitwaitwait-" She was proceeding to strip and make her way to the bathroom to clean herself. Cross hastily grabbed at her hand. "-okay, okay…I'll kill it with the jokes…is it the hat?"

"Ugh!"

"When you're done in there…you want to go again? I just figured out a better position."