On The Edge of a Blade

Chapter 6.1

A/N: This might not be edited too well, but more about that at the end of the part. Please enjoy, and thank you to everyone who has been voting/commenting! It means the world to me :D

It wasn't too long before the waitress came sashaying back to Rose's table. Though only mere minutes had passed since she had sent her impromptu spy to Sloane, Rose found herself incredibly impatient. Finally! "So?" Rose prompted, leaning forward in her seat as the waitress approached her table.

Proving herself to be not nearly as innocent as one might assume, the waitress gave the assassin a paltry glance. It was as though the two had never so much as spoken. "I'll be back with your drink in a second, dear," she said dismissively, raising a delicate eyebrow, accentuating her faux naive manner. "I'd appreciate your patience."

The girl nurtured a sly, conniving coyote underneath her outward appearance of an oblivious little kitten. As vexing as the waitress's deceit was, Rose found herself unable to carry too much condemnation about with her. It made sense, after all, that her looks were deceiving; enough underhanded business occurred within these walls to corrupt even the most sinless of souls. To work in a place such as this, one would have to know the workings of Hell on some level. Subconsciously, one would become familiar with each tactic of deception of each immoral customer.

Most people, after all, didn't come to this tavern to simply gawk about in a drunken state with wide, oblivious eyes. More often then not, this was the epicenter of social disease and deadly individuals. Rose and Sloane were current examples of that truth.

A bit of irritation washed over Rose at being brushed off, followed by a grudging acceptance. In her haste to gain information, she had overlooked what would have usually been obvious to her: having the waitress report directly to her post eavesdropping was the height of folly. Doing something so hasty would indubitably raise an alarm. Repressing a sigh, Rose sank back into her chair, resigning herself to wait.

The next few minutes passed more quickly than the first. When the waitress returned, she held Rose's new drink in her hand. She set it down without any ceremony, sliding it over to Rose. "That'll cost you a coin, sweetie," the girl said, tapping the table with her index finger.

"What?" Normally, Rose would've growled at the use of a term of endearment, but she was more concerned with this unexpected charge imposed upon her. "I told you, this is going on his tab. Not mine."

"True," the waitress said, "but I can't put 'Eavesdropping charge' on his tab; that would be rather hard to explain." A look of authoritative expectation was on the girl's face, making it clear that she wasn't going to waver. Her hand remained placed on the table, waiting to snatch up her pay.

Rose considered the waitress's outstretched hand with disdain. She was well aware that everything came at a price, even the most superficial acts of assistance, but she hadn't expected this girl to be so demanding. Looks truly were deceiving . . . .

Grudgingly, Rose reached into her pocket and pulled out a bronze coin, maintaining eye contact with the waitress throughout the motion. "What's your name?"

The waitress's eyes narrowed slightly, unhappy with the small piece of currency Rose was displaying. "Deedra," she answered, her voice sour. "And you better be offering more than that, or else it's no deal, sister."

"What you learned will constitute how much you get," Rose shot back, her response as quick as a striking snake and as smooth as sun touched butter. "If I were you, I'd have paid attention."

Deedra pursed her lips, radiating dissatisfaction. Whatever cards she had held were no longer able to trump what Rose now had in her hand. Unfortunately for her, she was on the wrong side of this battle; without the money in her control, she was virtually powerless. No matter where one traveled, the weight of a purse and the liquidity of exchange would forever be the deciding factor of life, the thing which could sway even the most upright. Between gold and violence, no woman was charming enough, and no man was noble enough, to resist the sway of sin. Louder than words spoke the glitter of steel and money, one of the elemental truths of humankind.