Who: Revy & Kitiara What: Revy thanks Kit for some clean up help with a lap dance (not from Revy) When: Not long after Leon got rescued Where: The Rear End Rating/Warnings: Language, talks about lots of violence Status: Complete!
Revy owed the bitch drinks.
Really, she did. In a tight pinch Kit had come through, and didn’t seem to question much as to why she needed a clean-up job on the whim. In retrospect, the gunslinger should have expected there’d be some kind of bloodbath that required some kind of professional covering once she was done with it - there was no way the one responsible for taking Leon would get out alive, not on her fucking watch, but like a bull all she had seen was red until red was spilled all over the place.
And for such a quick response, the bitch also deserved a lapdance. But not from her.
The Rear End was still her gig on the side; easy money, she knew the ropes, and it involved necessary violence here and there. Perfect for Revy, especially since drinking on the job was allowed and she got along well with the ladies who mastered the art of wrapping themselves around a pole, doing their acrobatics and making it look hot the entire time. Props to them.
“Chicks get better lapdances than the guys do,” she smirked, leaning against the neon-lit bar with her elbows propped, a cold Heineken next to her. “Let me know your pick of the litter and I’ll set you up, with drinks.”
Kitiara knew better to ask too many questions about why there was some bitch lying in the basement with her face blown off. She had enough experience in those matters to know that somethings were just none of her business. The clean-up had been easy enough, the bitch was now rotting on the bottom of the Pacific, and now she had a future favour to cash from the gunslinger.
A favour and a lapdance. It was a good day. She sat in The Rear End, leaning comfortably back in her chair with her boots on the table, a glass of scotch hanging from her hand. Black-eyes scanned the room, taking in the half-naked girls appreciatively, searching for the lucky girl who would get to jiggle her ass in front of Kit’s face. Eventually, her eyes fell on an Asian woman, tall with long black hair falling in waves down her back. Kit wasn’t conscious of the resemblance to Asami, but her eyes stopped on the girl and she pointed. “That one,” she said, and turned back toward Revy.
“I’ve got to say, this seems like a pretty sweet gig. You get to kick the shit out of a lot of creeps here?”
“Kicking the shit out of people is what I live for,” Revy grinned, wolfishly, and lit the end of a cigarette. It’s not like the money was fucking fantastic but the job didn’t entail much, the perks were decent, and she didn’t mind the cash flow on the side. Not working for Chang constantly meant a serious pay cut, but she figured Leon would appreciate not having a girlfriend who was still active with the Triad.
Asian chick it was though, and she’d have her come into the private room in a minute. Those existed for more intimate lap dances, but Hawke might be putting a stop to those last she heard - he didn’t want this place to potentially become a brothel. Turns out that was pretty illegal. “Ain’t bad, though. Never really batted for the other team but I can’t argue that the view isn’t nice. Guess that makes up for the shitty pay.”
“You should give it a try sometime,” Kitiara said, shooting Revy a sultry wink. “Speaking of kicking the shit out of people, you haven’t recently gotten yourself into some kind of trouble, have you, Two-Hands?” Kitiara had been determined to stay out of it, but the least she could do make sure that this wasn’t something that would end up coming back to haunt either one of them.
“Nothing I did,” she snorted, exhaling smoke. Midna helped her clean up the mess with Henry ages ago, Chang helped with the murder of her father, and now Kit helped do away with the body of the thundercunt that kidnapped her boyfriend. Revy had a habit of leaving a trail of carnage but this one didn’t have anything to do with her directly. “Boyfriend’s a cop, boyfriend got kidnapped by some bitch with a vendetta, Revy kills boyfriend’s kidnapper’s face.”
Revy hadn’t been all that vocal in regards to announcing to the world about her and Leon’s relationship, and she’d been behind on things with Kit but she thought it’d be a damn good time to catch up if the bitch was cleaning up her blood bath.
Kitiara choked on the sip of scotch that she’d just taken, the liquid burning all the way down the wrong tube. “I’m sorry, your boyfriend’s a what?” she asked, turning her skeptical eyes on Revy. There was no way she’d heard that right.
Yeeeeep. “You heard me,” Revy shrugged, and then reached for her beer to gulp down. “I’m fucking law enforcement.” A conflict of interest there, big time, if she was ever going to dip her feet into the shadier parts of life but he was a reason not to. Leon also wasn’t a raging douchebag that abused his power, even if he needed to be hit over the head a couple times with a metal baseball bat.
Then, after a second. “I think I actually sort of love the asshole,” she said, nonchalantly, like it was nothing.
Kitiara stared dumbfounded for a couple more moments, before she managed to pull herself together once again. She’d never experienced love herself. She didn’t think that she could manage it with anyone, let alone someone in the police, but she knew love was something that happened with some people. It was a thing. “At least tell me he’s crooked,” Kitiara said after a moment. “And/or incredibly sexy.”
It was no secret that Revy had some serious goddamn issues but that love thing, she’d felt it before - in the dreams anyway, with Rock. He had issues with her bloodlust but helped fan the killer cravings in the same way Leon did. The last thing she wanted to do was mess things up because her temper went rampant and she ripped some dude’s eyes out for looking at her wrong.
“Only time he’s crooked is when he talks about this guy he dreams about,” she snickered, flicking away some ashes into a tray. “He’s easy on the eyes, I guess.” She didn’t particularly have a type and if she’d gone on Rock’s terms, the idiot was the farthest thing from awkward Japanese businessman. “I might introduce the two of you one day.”
Kitiara reached forward to pluck the cigarette from Revy’s fingers to take a drag herself. “I think I’d be interested in that,” she said, shooting Revy a crooked smile. “I’d be very interested in meeting the pig who tamed the wild Two-Hands.”
“Choke on a stripper’s tit, Kit,” she scowled, taking her cigarette back from the thief and inhaling deep. “It’s not like I’ve stopped shooting people in the face. I just do it...less.” Revy shrugged a little awkwardly. “And when someone gets his ass kidnapped like a damsel.”
What was up with the men in her life getting kindapped?
Hmph. Whatever. “What about you? Got anyone to recently take care of you or is it your hand and a vibrator?”
Kitiara gave a slight chuckle, clearly amused as Revy took back her smoke. “I always have someone to take care of me,” Kit purred. “I’ve actually got a couple right going right now. One of whom, Asami, is the CEO of some big shot company.” She shot Revy a wink. “Looks like I finally go myself a sugar mama.”
At least, that’s what she had intended it to be at first.
Don’t worry, Kit, she had you covered - the crinkled cigarette carton (it was always in her pocket, therefore squished at all times) was set on the table for their consumption. Nothing says ‘girl bonding’ like blackening lungs together. “Sugar mama, eh?” Revy smirked around the cancer stick before trapping it with her fingers and pulling it away.
Sure as hell at least sounded like Kit.
“How long are you planning for that to last before you take a shit on her heart?” What else was supposed to happen? Revy knew what had become of her ex. What’d be the fate for this one?
Kitiara pulled a cigarette from the pack and her zippo from her pocket, and lit the cigarette, snapping the zippo shut with a click. She took a sweet lungful of smoke. “I’m not bored yet,” she said. “Though I do have a nice piece of meat on the side, so that might have something to do with it.” Maybe not. She’d been seeing Joe a lot less as things seemed to be progressing with Asami.
On the side? Shit. Way to go, Kit. The whole art of seduction wasn’t really her thing - it was actually the farthest from it - but she couldn’t judge. None of her business. Revy didn’t have the balls to do what her friend here was doing anyway; she had a few physical relationships before but she was never all that touchy-feely, and Leon had been the one serious thing in her life.
“You gonna stick with one of them in the end or tell ‘em both to fuck off at some point?” Attachments did happen. Kit’s resolve was steely but the bitch wasn’t invincible, and she wondered if she would ever even try the whole settling thing.
Revy’s question made the corners of Kit’s mouth tug downward slightly. She’d never seen herself as the type to settle. She’d had one ‘serious’ relationship in her life. If a relationship where they both slept around the entire time, which then ended with Kitiara trying to usurp his gang and sending him to the hospital could be considered ‘serious.’ But the thought of anyone else touching Asami filled Kitiara with the kind of rage that made her realize that she might be more invested in that relationship than she was entirely willing to admit.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Kitiara said, irritated. She was through with that particular line of questioning. While normally she was perfectly happy to discuss her sex life, this seemed like more than that. “What about you? Wedding bells in the future? I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Police Officer?” Let’s see how Revy liked the uncomfortable questioning.
That deflection said it all. Looked like Kitkat was pulled in deeper than anticipated, and the knowledge made her grin widen, teeth like fangs under the dim lights. Her face didn’t change much even if she decided to twist things around and toss the concept of marriage at her face, and Revy’s physical retaliation (if it were anyone else she’d have tossed them over the bar) was a pinch right to the fucking side boob.
“Don’t get too excited,” she snorted. “The fuck do you think a wedding with me would look like? Guns for bouquets, and if we all come out without bullet holes it means it blows?”
Kitiara scowled and slapped Revy’s hand away from her sideboob. She resisted the urge to rub the sore area and give Revy the satisfaction. Her scowl, however, quickly turned into a look of amusement. “You see, now that sounds like a wedding I’d be happy to go to. At the very least, no one could call it boring.” And weddings were so very often boring. Oh, most of the ones Kit went to made up for it at the reception, but wedding’s themselves almost always ended up drier than dirt.
“Wedding’s not happening, Kit,” she insisted, and why the fuck would it? Neither she nor Leon were at that phase yet - in the back of her mind she was still giving him that window of opportunity to run like hell in the other direction if he needed to. Revy had gotten better with time but she knew what she was, and what she was capable of. He’d been getting glimpses here and there, and he had...begrudgingly accepted it due to the circumstances.
But that could change. Revy could snap (she did have her episodes of Whitman Fever in the dreams, who’s to say she wouldn’t be provoked into one here?), and it was possible he wouldn’t be able to handle it.
It was an insecurity that simmered and festered but for now, she was content with shoving that bullshit to the side and burying it deep.
Another swallow of Heineken was taken, masking the taste of cigarette. “Anyway, you want that lap dance or not? Is you picking someone Asian-looking a homage to me or some shit?” Revy was flattered, Kit. Really.
Kitiara burst into laughter, feeling somewhat pleased with herself for getting under Revy’s skin, and she let the subject die, her goal accomplished.
“It’s just because I couldn’t get you to shake your ass in my face,” Kitiara assured Revy, shooting her a wink and for her own part completely ignoring the realization that she might have picked that particular stripper for another reason. “Bring on the booty!”