He let the obvious joke--and its accompanying hip shimmy--slide. "If I'm a pup, what does that make you, girl? An infant?"

Twenty-seven-ish. He still wasn't entirely convinced. Though the slim-line curve between her breasts and hips, showcased by soft, slightly translucent fabric, made a compelling argument. That and the shadows pooling between the cradle of sharply defined collarbones...

The keys dangling from one bandaged, claw-tipped hand were almost enough to divert his attention back to getting out of the goddamned cell. Almost.

He stepped back from the bars, flicked a cigarette out, stuck it between his teeth and refocused. Freedom first. Pretty--if annoying--girl later.

"You waiting for a lap dance, sweetheart? Or just looking for a Hokage handout? Because your chances for one are a whole lot better than the other." He flashed teeth through the smoke, words a little drawling. "Though I warn you, I'm not much into dangling ribbons from my nipples."