Bar T(r)ap

Dominique thumbs the material of the piece of jewelry around her neck, surprised at how smooth and sharp it is. She can't believe she finessed Vaas out if his necklace; she felt he'd probably been through the seductions of women in all his years as a pirate; he'd probably already had his share of women…

She scoffs.

She could care less about his sex life or lack thereof.

She fingers the gem, admiring the contrast of green against chestnut skin. She needs to plan out her strategy. She has the look, now she needs to find the man and…

"Pardon me, Miss, but is this seat taken?"

Just her luck.

She turns around in her seat and finds Southern Belle leaning against the barstool, his specs gleaming under the cheap lighting.

"No, have a seat." She says softly, her fingers stroking the upholstery of the seating. He sits down next to her.

"Pardon my manners, but you look prettier than a can of peaches. Like a little island princess. All you need is a flower right," his hand tucks a strand of her curls right behind her ear, "there." He grins.

"Thank you." She replies with a smile. Act interested, Dominique. Act interested.

"What drink would you like, beautiful? Anything you want, just name it and I'll buy it. "

"A glass of," she looks at the pitiful assortment of alcohol, "Coke and rum. On the rocks."

"Classic." He nods his head. "I like that."

"I like you. On this island of brutes, it feels good to have a gentleman in your presence." She raises her glass, "I appreciate the drink."

"Anything for the Island Flower." He squints his eyes at her.

"My, oh my, if it ain't the hairstylist. Gotta say, girlie. You clean up nicely. Could barely recognize you through all that beauty. I like it, though. Makes me curious." He leans in close.

"Why you deciding to look this good? Were you waiting on me?"

"Maybe. Maybe you're the guy I'm looking for. I like being swept off my feet by a southern man. That accent is an aphrodisiac for me."

"Laying it on thick, sweetheart. You California girls ain't subtle when it comes to courtship. That's okay, though. Been dying to get a taste of some California peach, if you know what I mean." His hand slides up her thigh. Her hand grips his.

"We may lack subtlety but we will make you work for it. This peach isn't an easy one to taste."

He chuckles.

"Classic and classy. I like you. I have a party of sorts coming on tonight. It'd be beautiful to have a little arm candy to bring. I insist, my dear." His lips touch her hand, "you won't be disappointed. It'll be a night you won't forget." He grins.

"I'll think about it. Where can I find you?"

"West of the Southern Islands. It's where a convoy is at. Heavily armed militia men will guard the place. all you gotta do is say you're the Island Flower and they'll let you in. I'll be waiting. Matter of fact, how about you come with me right now? I'd love to show you my collection of guns and weapons I've collected around the world."

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid not at this moment. I have a few clients lined up. But if you want, I can give you a line-up." Her finger strokes his jawline.

"The five o'clock shadow doesn't go with your long hair. Or, would you like me to trim the hair into a nice crew cut…?"

"Surprise me. I want to get to know you more. Know what…" his hand strokes her knee, "makes you tick. I'm curious, now."

Dominique gently grabs his hand and lifts it off his knee.

"Trust me, sir. Touching a lady without permission isn't going to get you far in getting to know her. Definitely not in the ways you want to get to know her."

"My apologies. Where are my manners this lovely day?"

Something chirps in his pocket.

"Oh, fuck. This had better be good."

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a phone.

"Hello? What do you mean you got ambushed—a woman did this? Did you kill her—slow down, slow down—how much of the product was destroyed—15 million dollars worth? Are you fucking kidding me—no, fuck that, I'm in a bad fucking mood and when I get there I'm putting a bullet in ALL of your fucking heads—what do you mean she took the ship? You let a bitch pillage my turf, destroy my shit and leave with my fucking property—I don't give a fuck about your family! You work for me—I'm coming right now and you better get the fuck out of my sight."

He slams the phone shut. He looks to Dominique.

"My apologies, sweetheart. Trouble in paradise. It appears my men can't handle one singular bitch, so they call Daddy to clean up their mess, pardon my French. It appears the festivities are cancelled until further notice, but I'll see you around, yeah?"

She raises her glass to him with a smile. Before the man leaves, she grabs his hand.

"What do you want me to call you?" she asks softly, her thumb stroking his skin.

"Call me Kingston. Big Daddy if you nasty." He winks at her and walks away. Swallowing her disgust, she waves him off and downs her coke and rum with a grimace.

There's no way in hell he has a chance of getting in her panties; his touches make her skin crawl, the creep. She can't stand the smell of chewing tobacco and cheap cologne. She reassesses the conversation: she's got a name and location. And a possible ally in taking this man down. A woman at that; talk about girl power!

She just needs to locate Vaas and relay the intel.