cuddlecity | If you want blood

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If you want blood | OTA

CHARACTERS: Faith Lehane and You!
LOCATIONS: The Deviant
WARNINGS: Currently none, will update if that changes
SUMMARY: Faith and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Faith Lehane was having a day. It wasn't anything huge that marked the day in question as particularly awful. Instead, it was the myriad little things that kept piling up one on top of the other to create an avalanche of bullshit that was threatining to roll downhill at any minute. From the waitress that kept spilling drinks on paying customers, to the drunken idiot that had grabbed her ass before she'd tossed him on his... she was itching to punch something in the worst way.

Before the urge could overwhelm her she'd retreated to the manager's office and sat at her desk for a drink and a time out. The whiskey was strong but not strong enough as the burn of it barely took the edge off. She thought back to her time in prison, the things she'd done to get out of her own head and push the darker urges back into their boxes, and tried utilizing the methods that had worked then. Whatever calm she'd been working toward, small as it had been, was shattered when she heard a tray of glasses smash just beyond her door less than five minutes in to her cool down.

With a bitten off curse she stood to leave her temporary sanctuary so she could assess the damage. Her least favorite waitress was in the middle of the wreckage and Faith's eyes narrowed. Her fingers twitched into a fist, flexed once as she tamped down on the urge to let fly, and released.

Not trusting in her ability to resist a second time meant walking away with little more than a ground out order to clean up the mess. It was on her way up to the front that she decided it was in the best interest of everyone that she find a way to resolve the building tension sooner rather than later. Whether it was going to be a fight or something else was where she was still open to suggestion.

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Thor was out the front of The Deviant as usual, taking his job of being bouncer fairly seriously. Of course it as Faith's perogative to throw out any patron she saw fit while she was in the club. Thor just did his best to make sure they didn't come back in. Generally people took one look at his size and decided to walk away. Those that pushed their luck soon realised their mistake.

When his boss came out of the club, he recognised the look of a restless warrior. That pent up energy and rage needing to be channeled. He had witnessed it many times amongst his friends and fellow Asgardians, not to mention he knew the feeling well himself.

"Faith!" Thor's voice rang clearly through the noise of the waiting club-goers and the Cadelle-ians walking the busy streets. He didn't dare try and touch her, or grab her. Instead he held his hands in clear view. "Perhaps you should at least hit someone that can handle it."

He didn't need to ask why she was angry. Not yet. He was sure it would come out in its own time. When she was ready, when she had worked in a few blows.

The sound of her name being called cut through the crowd and she didn't need to look to know who had done the calling. Thor was distinctive like that. It wasn't until he told her to hit someone that could handle it that she realized her fist had clenched again during her walk, and how good it would feel to do just that. That he'd been able to recognize the need was something Faith wasn't going to dwell on, just appreciate if it meant he was volunteering for punching bag duty.

"That an offer or just a keen observation?"

He'd been referred to as a lot of things in this city, most of which he assumed were a joke at his expense, but he'd take 'distinctive' over many of them. Thor indicated the line, and then Faith before he quirked an eyebrow in question. "That would all depend upon my boss and whether or not she can find me a replacement."

He would have perhaps walked away on a night where there didn't seem to be constant trouble brewing but tonight was most definitely not that night.

"She can." Even if it was irresponsible. Even if she should probably just go and deal with whatever had crawled up her ass and died without dragging anyone else into it. Even if she was probably going to regret it in the morning because he was by far the better bouncer and things had seemed like a shitstorm waiting to happen all evening. And yet there was no denying the appeal of the offer and how very much she needed it.

It was a simple enough task to duck back inside and motion for Jeff to take Thor's place by the door. The barback had expressed an interest in the job and now was his time to shine. Or fail miserably. But she'd deal with that possiblilty later.

Much later.

"Done. You have a preferred sparring place or will anywhere open do?"

Thor waited for his replacement before he moved, staring down someone in the line that seemed to be assessing whether or not they should seize the opportunity to sneak in. He drew himself to his full height, arms dropping to his sides as he took a step forward. It was enough for the man to step back in line and for Jeff to tag in.

Thor soon stood by Faith, eyeing her like he was still waiting to see if she was perhaps just going to start throwing punches the second he was available. She didn't, and instead Thor couldn't hold back a slight smirk at her question. "No, and yes. I will do my best not to get carried away."

He had learned never to underestimate a woman that seemed to know how to fight. Natasha had certainly shown him time and again that no superpowers or enhancements were needed to win or do damage.

"Can't say I'll do the same. Follow me." Getting carried away was exactly what she needed, and he'd been right. She needed someone who could take what it was she was capable of dishing out and she laughed as she led him toward the far side of the building. There'd been an old storage space in the back that had been cleared away at some junction or other and left to nature. It had come to serve in ways she was pretty sure no one ever intended it to.

There was a crack of her knuckles as she smirked, presenting the bare bones arena in its lack of glory like it was something majestic once they'd arrived. "So. Next time I disappear, you'll know where to find me."

Thor had tried to adjust to the clothes he was required to wear - standard black pants, and t-shirt, but as he got ready to fight he pulled the t-shirt free from his belt and rolled his shoulders. Hand to hand, sparring in general was still relatively new to him after fighting for so long with Mjolnir and requiring the full extent of his ability to channel lightening. But Faith was not a killer robot, nor a sworn enemy of Asgard.

She required a different approach. If he did not satisfy then he was fully prepared just to stand there and be pummeled. It was better than her taking it out on the wrong person. "I will bear that in mind. It is also truly not the worst place I have fought."

Fighting in whatever she was wearing was usually how Faith rolled. It wasn't like you had time to change when a vamp decided on a midnight snack so she wasn't in a rush to ditch anything she had on, though she had zero objections to the shedding of his shirt. In a mood or not, Faith could appreciate the sight of him standing there in all his chiseled, shirtless glory.

There was a small snort in response to his statement as she thought about some of the more disgusting places she'd thrown down in. "Same." Faith pulled her arms across her chest one after the other while she stretched. "We have any rules for this or does free for all work?"

Thor was definitely starting to have his suspicions about Faith. That she was more than she let on - or at least more than he'd had a chance to discover. Not everyone was as forthcoming about themselves as he was. Though he knew he genuinely stood out a lot more than others.

"I really do think there has been something you have not told me, Faith." Thor just smiled as he set himself into a defensive stance. It still seemed strange to not have Mjolnir, but he could still fight hand to hand. Sort of. "Free for all works for as long as you can keep up."

This time she does laugh, shortly clipped huff of a breath, before she smiles. "Might have been a few things I left out."

And then she swings.

Her fist goes straight for his perfect chin and she's torn on what she wants more-- to connect, or for him to actually put up a fight. And then, just like that, she knows. She wants to fight a god. That's the kind of reckless insane crazy thing she needs right now and she hates, in no small part, the fact that he's limited here. In her current state it only adds to her anger because what a story that would be.

Thor may well be somewhat limited under the conditions of being in the city. Even with Mjolnir, his strength has been reduced and he knows it. The second her fist connects though, Thor realises exactly what she's been keeping from him.

He had steeled himself for the punch, expecting something more human, but he was pleasantly surprised, and it made his mind up when it came to returning the hits. Thor advanced, blocking another hit to the face while his right fist connected with her side. He still kept what strength he had at bay for the moment.

His offer of being her punching bag was still good, but he would warm up to giving her a real fight.

He's a solid wall of muscle and he has nearly a foot on her but she's fought plenty of things his size and come out the other side relatively intact. And he doesn't even want her dead. So that's also a plus. The hit to the side aches but she's not stupid enough or battle blind to think it wasn't pulled. Knowing she was being humored by anyone else might piss her off more but in this case she's thankful she won't be adding broken ribs to the Calamity List she'd been compiling all day long.

Faith twists in an effort to get around his block, hoping to use their size difference to her advantage while knowing she can't stay too close. The major problem is that despite his size he still moves with a grace that speaks to a hell of a lot of training. There's a feint to the right on her part that she hopes he'll follow before she moves for his left, looking to connect her elbow to his kidney. It's a cheap shot that happens to be entirely effective in things that actually have kidneys.

Asgardian physiology was of course as close to human as it could get. There were just 'enhancements'. Thor fell for the feint and grunted as her elbow hit his kidney. If this had been a real fight there was a true chance that he just would have picked her up and tossed her. Hundreds of years later, and he wasn't above the cheap shots or dirty moves either.

Instead he managed to elbow her in the back in return as he pivoted. The hit had of course hurt, but he wasn't down yet. A headlock really did seem like a dirty move, especially given that he was trying to focus on punching. But he moved like he was going for it anyway - a feint of his own that would become an elbow to her chin.

Her adrenaline is going now and she doesn't feel the elbow to the back half as much as she feels it when an elbow connects with her chin. She can hear the click of her jaw shifting in a way it really shouldn't.

She's going down and she knows it so she uses the momentum to her advantage, scissors her leg back and up to catch him in the head with her heel. Faith needs to buy herself a few seconds to right herself and comes back with another kick. Distance. Keep her out of arm's reach.

He is still trying to hold back as much as he can. She wasn't really asking to be injured. She just needed to vent and Thor was genuinely here for that. It had just been a while since he wasn't fighting something that was trying to kill him without mercy. He flashed a slightly apologetic look at the way she seemed to move her jaw in the wake of the hit.

But the feelings of regret didn't last long as she kicked him and he bared his teeth at the sting. Thor wasn't exactly quite as skilled with kicking. Still, he was trying to use his height once more to close the gap between them since his reach was greater than hers. He lunged, this time catching her around the waist and lifting her up as if he was either going to sling her over his shoulder, or throw her down in a wrestling move.

There's a grunt when he manages to grab her and she curses the fact that his arms are fucking tree trunks. Lumbering giant has a grip like steel and she twists as best she can to try and break free to no avail. If this were a real fight to the death, she'd be pulling a knife, she'd be going for his eyes, she'd be doing whatever she could to escape.

Except it isn't. There are no consequences here if she can't get loose but she's not ready to give up that easily and drives an elbow between his shoulder blades once, twice, a third time in her attempts.

Thor cursed at the elbow between the shoulder blades. She was starting to not hold back, and now, so was he. Though he would still stop short of causing her any real damage. While still holding onto Faith he seized the opportunity to surge forward and pin her between his wall of muscle and the outside wall of the dock.

There was an echoing thud as she hit, but he had also tried to make sure his hand hit the wall first to ease her impact against it.

The breath leaves her lungs in a rush while her heart jackhammers in her chest. Her legs wrap around his waist and she squeezes with everything she's got, locking her ankles together for leverage, the flat of her palm striking out against his sternum. It's a controlled hit because she's not sure exactly what he can take and she's not so far gone that she can't recognize his status as friend, not foe. The distinction isn't blurry in the least when she can still feel the hand he'd used to cushion her meeting with the wall.

Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and she tugs to expose his throat. If things had been different, if he'd been a threat, she'd have cut his throat but her hand remains empty and his skin remains unbroken. Faith shoves the thought away with the rest of the darker urges she's spent the better part of the last few years working through but her grip slackens with her distraction and she re-applies the pressure to his waist.

There's something about Faith that reminds Thor of Loki, but he's never quite wanted to acknowledge it. Perhaps he can see that constant struggle within her of dark versus light, but where Loki seemed to want to embrace chaos, she is erring towards the light. Well, until now perhaps but all is fair in battle.

Thor rolled his hips forward, unintentionally taking advantage of their present position. It was starting to dawn on him just how long it had been, and how the adrenaline that accompanied a fight nearly always stirred up needs of another kind. Faith was attractive, and dangerous and he was beginning to like that about her.

Before he could get too carried away with just mindlessly grinding against her, he wriggled out of her hold and dropped her to the ground, trusting that she would land on her feet. Thor took a deep breath, hands moving to push back the loose hair that was obscuring his vision. This was not the fight he had agreed to.

No one knows better than she does what kind of appetites a good fight can work up. She hates him a little for the roll of his hips and almost hates him even more when he stops. It's not something she has too much time to dwell on when that need to tear something apart, while diminished, is still there. When she finds herself falling, she drops down into a crouch and watches him, calculating the next move. Is there a next move? Is he tapping out?

"You calling it quits? Because I'm not spent yet." She can't help the suggestive nature of the comment and wouldn't apologize for it even if she could. It's part of who she is.

There's a moment where her side aches as she rises to her full height again, it's just not enough to discourage her from continuing on. "I could do this all night."

Things were escalating, tonight. Usually The Deviant was pumping with people dancing, happy, making connections and bonding with each other and becoming more to each other over a song and a drink. But tonight it felt more like there was something else underneath it all, like blood in the wine. Baby wasn't due for a set for another hour, had arrived early, and he was by the bar when he heard the smashed glasses, saw Faith, the tension in her body, the anger in her fists. He didn't even think before walking over, as determined as he could be. When he got to her, he put a hand on her shoulder, hoping she would react by throwing him bodily across the room.

"Hey. Wanna go for some fresh air?"

The hand on her shoulder had her base instincts screaming to break bone. To take hold and twist as penance for the audacity of assuming... at least until she realized who it was that had done the touching. Baby definitely needed both hands and wrists functional unless she wanted to add another managerial nightmare to her plate.

Which she decidedly did not.

"Want to punch someone in the face but fresh air is gonna have to do."

He gave Faith a gentle smile, guiding her towards the exit because she could do any damage - to the building, rather than herself. The two of them had a good enough relationship that Baby wasn't worried for any of his limbs, or his face, as he helped her outside, the air damp with rain that was about to fall.

"What's going on?"

The moment they stepped out, the quiet of the street made the buzzing in his ears flare up, and he focused on the thrum of the bass coming through the soles of his feet from the club behind them, trying to keep himself from getting dizzy. There were bigger issues at hand.

"I don't even know. If it hasn't been one thing, it's been another." Faith leaned back against the wall and ran a hand through her hair. She didn't care that she sounded like a petulant kid. She'd get her shit together tomorrow. For the moment she just needed to indulge in the irrational anger that came with a shitty day.

"You ever get that urge to run like an itch under your skin?" She looks at Baby when she asks, and for that split second she feels more tired than angry. "Except where do you run when this is the closest thing to paradise there is?"

There's a heavy sigh and self deprecating smirk. "Damn I wish I still smoked."

Baby let out a breath, tilting his head up to the night sky for a moment. Does he ever get the urge to run? All the time; it's what landed him here in the first place. Maybe he ought to admit that to someone else than just Izzy.

"I've always got that itch. Back home, I - I was stuck in kind of a shitty situation, and I ended up pulling the trigger." Literally and figuratively. "I ran. And it's how I ended up in Cadelle."

Another sigh, more like a deep exhale, long and steady, before he joined her, leaning against the wall. "It makes me think running is only ever a temporary solution. Whatever's chasing you will always find you. But in the meantime, you can go on joyrides," he finished with a slight smile, looking down at Faith.

"Looks like we got more in common than music." Faith has enough of a soft spot for the kid, even though he isn't that much younger than she is, that she actually dislikes the fact that she can say that.

"True story. Running never gets you all that far. Learned that lesson a thousand times over," Faith let out a small snort of a laugh. "Still learning it."

With a deep breath she pushed away from the wall to gently nudge Baby in the side. "You always been this smart or is the shitty situation to thank?"

Letting out a deep chuckle, Baby tilted his head towards the sky, looking at the night spread out ahead of them, reminding him how insignificant they are.

"Not that smart. maybe - maybe street smart, I guess. Grew up in the streets, mainly. Grew up trying to run from everything, all the time, and it got me nowhere fast."

Pushing his hands in his pockets, he turned back to Faith. There was something about her - something broken. His voice was soft when he asked:

"What were you running from?"

He'll never know how much she can relate to that, mostly because she's not sure she'll ever tell him. Depends on which way the wind blows. Depends on how masochistic she's feeling that day.

"That's a loaded question." It's not an answer and she knows it. She also knows she owes him something.

"A lot of things. Life. Didn't like my surroundings. Didn't like my ghosts. Hell, didn't much like myself." She smiles, and it's far more fliratious than it should be. Bad idea. Bad habits die hard.

The smile turns into something a little softer, a little less predatory.

"I should really start paying you more."

"Yeah, it is," he answered softly, knowing how much he would struggle, if the question was directed at him. Sometimes, it felt like he'd been running from a lot more than just Doc and his business. Running from everything, all the time, because it was easier than facing his feelings.

"For what it's worth, I think you're pretty cool," he added with a smile and a wink, more of a tease than anything else. If it's a little flirty on his end, well. Nobody has to know, and it doesn't have to mean anything. "I learned how to drive when I was 10 years old. I'm not very good at staying in one place myself."

Not that he really ever left, either - just moved through Atlanta like a shadow, the streets his domain.

He chuckled, tilting his head back again for a moment. "You pay me plenty."

Visiting the Deviant is just part of Vasquez's routine by now, mainly to see if Buffy is there. When he arrives this time, though, it seems like the bar is a little bit of a disaster, only made worse when there's a great crash from one of the departing guests running right into the waitress, sending all of the glasses to the ground. Turning to watch things, he can see that the man is too drunk and while he should keep his nose out of it, he sighs and levers himself to his feet, looming at all six foot four of his height.

"Go," is what Vasquez tells the man, while the waitress starts cleaning up the mess, though she doesn't look very happy. When he turns, though, there's another woman there, and Vasquez arches a brow because he's seen her around here before. He thinks he even knows her, even if they haven't properly met. Focusing on the glass first, he crouches and gestures for the cloth. "Here, let me," he says, shooing off the waitress with a cluck of his tongue before he starts to clear some of the glass up.

Looking up at Faith (because it must be her), he nods down. "Do you have a trash I should put this in?"

She doesn't know who the hell the guy cleaning her floor is, she knows she didn't hire him, but she's just pissed off enough that she doesn't give a good goddamn. He's getting the mess cleaned up. Faith gives him half a headshake in acknowledgement before ducking back into her office to grab the bin by her desk and the good broom and dust pan from behind her door.

"And who are you again?" The question is tossed at him rather than asked, which is unfair given the fact that he's getting the mess cleaned up. Again, not that she cares. The last thing on Faith's mind is concern about hurting anyone's feelings. Not when she's too busy making sure she doesn't scream. Or punch things.

Punching things sounded particularly appealing.

"Vasquez," he says, rising up from where he's been on one knee to clean the mess. He knows that maybe she doesn't know him very well, but Buffy has been very clear about who she is. There's been lots of talk about Faith, which is why he's not desperate for her to like him, but he's also not going to be as big of an asshole as he can be.

Maybe, he'll see how this goes. He reaches out for the broom and dust pan to take them, cleaning up the rest of the mess before glancing to where the waitress looks a few seconds from sobbing. "I don't think she's very good at her job," is all he says flatly (so maybe a little bit of an asshole).

"You're Faith, yes? You run this bar?"

Ah. That name rings a bell. A Buffy shaped bell. So this should be interesting, to say the least.

He gets bonus points when he states the obvious and Faith does her level best not to glare at the girl because if she cries, she's fired. Crying waitresses are not a thing on her list today and she intends to keep it that way.

"Understatement of the century. And yes, I am slash do. And you're a friend of Buffy's."

"Maybe an understatement, too," is what he quips, which maybe isn't the smartest thing to be saying, but then, he occasionally isn't very smart. He hasn't even been drinking that much, though, so he focuses on getting the trash swept away, pleased that he's finally meeting the famous Faith.

"Yes, a friend. She talks a lot about you, says she thinks that maybe you and I will get along," he notes. "I think before I can tell, we should at least have a drink to know whether she's right."

There's an arch of an eyebrow at that comment, and she remembers how she felt forever and a freaking lifetime ago when Scott had broken up with Buffy. When things had been fresh and not entirely weird between them she'd actually felt a little protective of the other Slayer. She'd wanted that sisterhood and that bond and... well, mostly she wanted to escape her shitshow of a life. Knowing how worried Buffy had been about how things would go here, she's looking at this guy with less lack of interest, and slightly more scrutiny.

The last thing she expects is to hear that Buffy talks about her, which isn't the thing that surprises her, she'd expect nothing less in that department given their complicated history, but it's the 'thinks we'll get along' part that throws her. "Think a drink might be a requirement then. What's your poison? On the house."

"Tequila," he says, instantly, and while he thinks he should be polite and offer to pay, he's also not stupid enough to turn down free liquor and she seems to be offering, so Vasquez isn't going to say no. After all, he's not stupid.

He drifts towards one of the booths, completely ignoring the waitress now that he's disposed of a little of the remaining glass, settling his hat back on the bar while straddling the chair, adjusting the gun belt and lasso on his hip. "Unless you have something better than tequila to introduce me to. I'm not exactly from this century." Dragging up his cigarettes, he gestures to them. "Mind if I smoke?"

The beautiful thing about running a club is that for all the headaches, there's free liquor to dull the pain. "Nah, tequila's a classic. Be my guest as far as the smoke goes." While he drifts off she moves for the bar and grabs a bottle plus two shot glasses. Even as crowded as the place is she has no trouble finding him again. The whole cowboy thing is hard to miss.

"So what's your deal with B?" What's the point in beating around the bush? She's either going to get answers or he's going to get pissed and pick a fight. There's no downside to either of these things in her mind in that moment.

He gives her a grateful nod and a mumbled gracias as he lights up with a match, making sure that when he exhales, he's not pushing a stream of smoke into her face, because it's rude to do so. He reaches out for the tequila, grimacing when he picks up the shot glass. "Why is everyone so afraid of having decent amounts of liquor here?" he complains, even though he's happy for the shot.

"Deal?" he echoes, thinking that maybe she means what's happening. "We've gone on some dates, we've had sex," he says bluntly, because he doesn't think that dancing around the topic is going to help, "and I like her. Should I be warned about something?"

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If you want blood | OTA

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