The Sheathing of the Sword [DRAFT; DISCARDED]

Deadly Nightshade

"What's your name, little mama? C'mon, at least tell me that."

"You already know my name."

"How do you know?"

"You're not exactly quiet about your attempted conquests. You and Loki were rather loud."

He frowned. This woman was being uncooperative. What did a guy have to do to get a beautiful lady to come home with him? An idea dawned on him. Smirking, he leaned forward, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Hey, how about I buy you a drink, mamacita? C'mon, let Papi here get you something."

She gave him a murderous glare, before pulling out a picture of a rather handsome man. "You want to get me something? Get me this man."

He eyed the picture. The man was certainly a looker, though he had nothing on himself. "Sorry, can't get you a man I've never seen before. Who is he, your lover?"

She ignored him. He tried again. "C'mon, mami, anything else I can get you?"

Her eyes widened suddenly, bright with pleasure. "Sure!  How about you get me a pistol?" She put the picture back in her bra, hidden from sight. Her expression went back to its usual indifference, and the man was seriously starting to get angry. She was treating him like a damn fool, and all he wanted was to sleep with her. Was that so much to ask?

"Look," he began angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You've been nothing but rude since I got here. What's your deal?"

"My deal," Deborah began, her eyes narrowing dangerously as her tone became cold as steel, "is that I have an incompetent and womanizing imbecile trying to pick me up as though he's entitled to me simply because he was born with a pathetic excuse for a penis. I don't want you to talk to me. I don't want your drink. And I certainly don't want the worm you're packing in your pants. Leave my table or leave the club, it makes no matter to me. Just leave."

He was taken aback. Why was she being so hostile for? When he collected himself, he rose, anger flashing in his eyes. "It is not a worm!" he exclaimed before storming back to the bar. He caught Loki looking at her as he left, but he quickly averted his gaze. A moment later, he looked back slyly at the man.

"So that's how it's done, huh?"

The man bristled. "Shut up." This woman got him worked up in knots. Who was she to talk to him like that? Yet, despite himself, he still wanted her. She was a challenge to him, an incredibly hard one. And, if he were honest with himself, it left him incredibly hard at the prospect. She was fascinating to him. And beautiful. What made her so bitter to men, though?

"I told you," Loki said, smiling to himself a bit. "Her lips may drip honey, but she stings like a bee."

The man ignored him. "What's the deal with her, anyways?" he asked, gazing at her over his shoulder. He knew she noticed, but she didn't give any indication she did. "What made her like that?"

"Men."

The man quirked an eyebrow. "Men? What do you mean? Some douchebag fucked her up, emotionally? Is that what happened?"

Loki sighed. "Two douchebags, actually. They just so happened to be her father and older brother."

Surprise seized him. "Wha--? Her old man and brother?" It was then he realized that perhaps his use of the word 'Papi' had angered her more than he had realized. "How? When? Why?"

The boy bartender wiped out a glass, looking at the subject of their talk. "Years ago. Deborah's mother died while she was still young. Deborah was only five. She went crying to her father a lot, and the grief hit him hard. He lost the woman he loved, whom his daughter was a spitting image of. No doubt he thought to comfort himself by immersing himself in his dead wife's ringer of a daughter. Literally. He molested her on a constant basis, and she was powerless to stop him. The man she needed to trust the most, especially when such a tragic event happened, instead sexually abused her. Her brother was no better."