Re: Capital: Sasha/Faol
Sasha had no idea this was about Cat. Had she any inkling, she would have told Faol that it was a waste of time and that her sister tended to assume things about her that were completely wrong. And then Sasha would provide Faol a list of everything Cat assumed about her which was obscenely incorrect that would take a solid month to read through. But she didn't know this was all because of Cat. Sasha genuinely thought Faol wanted her help. She was apparently wrong. Like always.
The bar was dark and smoky, lit up by strings of red and white rope lights along with the various random neon beer signs. A strip of grungy green stools, ripped and torn with wear, lined the bar proper with the occasional hunched figure sitting and nursing a beer. The walls were dark wood paneling, giving the illusion that the place was much smaller than it really was. Most of the patrons were towards the back, huddled around a table and arguing back and forth. Loudly. The discussion seemed to revolve around if the girl could do it, or if she was going to lose her arm.
The crowd parted enough to show Sasha standing there, back to Faol, and she was standing in front of a rather hefty bear trap that was opened, armed, and strapped to the wall like decoration. "Shut your pieholes," Sasha drawled in that heavy Jersey accent. "You especially. Zip it." she pointed at one of the guys nearby that had been quite vocal about how someone needed to call 911 to let the ambulance get a headstart. Once the crowd quieted to a dull roar, Sasha prepared. She stretched out her neck, tilted once to the right then once to the left, then hopped a couple of times on her feet to loosen herself up as she shook out her arms.
Her arm was a blur of motion followed by a deafeningly loud KACHUNK as the trap snapped shut. Sasha raised both hands above her head triumphantly while half of the group cheered, and the other half of the group groaned in anger. Sasha just smiled smugly and gathered up the messy pile of money on the table that she had rightfully earned on that bet. It was when she was tapping all of the bills into a reasonably neat bundle that could be shoved into her pocket that she finally looked up to see Faol. No earthly idea how long he had been in the bar, but she smiled bright and winked at him. There were shoulder holsters under her black jacket which held a pair of her favorite guns, but no one in the bar seemed to notice, or if they did then they didn't care. She also had the black motif going for her, chunky black boots, skin tight black skinny jeans, but beneath her jacket was a rather loud crimson and cobalt tank top, sequin diamonds that alternated color down her front. It was easily covered up with a quick zip of her baseball jacket, but that didn't need to happen just yet.
Her wild mane of curls bounced with each step as she weaved around the table to greet Faol. "Hey you," she practically purred, "You ready to take me out of here?"