Walking out of a dingy old diner tucked away in the grimiest corners of the Bronx, Havana clucked her tongue as she wiped the blood away from the small steak knife she had in her hands. Ask anyone who knew the brunette and they'd tell you she's somewhat of a pacifist - or as much of a pacifist as one can get in her line of work - but bottomline is, she doesn't like getting her hands dirty. No, if she wanted something taken care of, she'd have someone do it for her with just a flip of her hair or a flirtatious smile, but this instant proved different.

Just a few minutes prior, Havana was trying to enjoy a less-than-tender ribeye after a long day's work, minding her own business as the patrons of the diner came and go. Sure, it was late at night and the characters in the diner weren't exactly the types of people you'd peg as model citizens, but Havana was still caught off guard when a young thug slid into her booth and draped his arm around her, breath reeking of alcohol. "Hey baby, what are you doing all alone?" he slurred, spit flying from his mouth. "You sure look like you could use some company."

Now Havana was no stranger to unwanted attention, not at all, but after four drug runs and two car chases in a span of a few hours, she's had about enough stress for a day. "Get the fuck away from me." she murmured, shrugging his arm off of her and shoving him out of the booth. However, her small stature barely nudged the towering young man, and it seemed like her rejection further egged him on - as soon as she shoved him, she felt a hand on her chin roughly forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Look here, bitch. Either you leave with me now or I'll fuck your face up, you underst-", before he can even finish, Havana had plunged her steak knife through his thigh, twisting the knife around before retracting it and holding it against his throat, the blood coating it dripping onto her arm and onto her white dress. "Don't you call me a bitch. I'm not saying I'm not a bitch, but you don't know me so you don't get to call me that." Havana said through gritted teeth, gently tracing a line across his neck with the knife as she sees the people in the diner fleeing in her peripheral vision. "Now that it's just you and I here, let me teach you some manners," she started in a sickly sweet voice, moving to sit on his lap so he couldn't move.

"One, don't call people rude names." She cooed, sliding her knife to his mouth, forcing it open and jabbing it into his tongue, the knife cutting through it more smoothly than it did the steak. Grasping his hand, she stroked his fingers lovingly before again pulling the knife from his mouth and running it along his palm, making a deep gash. "Two, don't touch people when they didn't allow you to. Consent, darling. And three...." Havana then used her other hand to punch the man square in the face, effectively knocking him out from both the force of the jab and possibly the loss of blood from his stab wounds. "Don't be an asshole if you don't want to get punched in the face." She finished, spitting on his unconscious body before grabbing her purse and walking out the door, not realizing she still had the steak knife with her.

Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching her from behind, Havana was ripped from her mental reenactment of the events and was now on high guard. Not turning around, she felt the stranger come closer to her and the hairs on the back of hair stood high - Havana poised her knife in case she needed it. "Whoever you are, I just want you to know I have a knife and I really, really don't want to use it. Again."

Vesper was out for a walk, exploring New York. Her childhood had taught her how to stay silent and hidden, but she felt the need to stay in practice. Hiding from passerby wasn't exactly difficult, but at least it was something- and in the rougher parts of a city, at least the threat of danger kept her aware. She thought about her father as she walked, working hard to remember his face, his smell, his voice. Some things were too important to allow them to slip away. 

She was thinking about the day he died when she let herself get distracted. She turned a corner without cover and walked around it like she was tap-dancing. And there, right in front of her, was a woman holding a knife. A bloody knife.

Vesper froze when the woman spoke. It didn't matter how stealthy you were if you went strolling down the goddamn sidewalk like a tourist. Frustrated with herself, she fixed her eyes- one blue and one brown- on the stranger. Strange that she hadn't turned around. Vesper prepared to sprint away, but figured she'd try intimidation first.

"Maybe you're new to this... but usually when you're going to mug someone you have to face them. And unless you want to mess with some new friends of mine in Chicago, you'll just walk away."

Havana's head whipped around when she heard the response - a woman's voice. "Oh, you know people from Chicago, huh? What a coincidence." Raising a perfectly plucked brow, her lips contorted into a small, cruel smile as she met the stranger's eyes. "And... mugging? Me?" Havana barked a harsh laugh. "Do I look like someone who mugs people to you?" She asked as she gestured to her white dress stained with blood - suddenly realizing that maybe she did look like a shady character right now and immediately regretting the question.

The brunette rolled her eyes at the woman's threat, chuckling as she handed the knife to the woman, sharp end pointing to the stranger just to give her a little scare. "Here, take the knife if you're so afraid of getting mugged. Perhaps you need it more than I do." Havana told her, unsure of the stranger's intentions and clearly taking a risk by handing the woman a knife when she left her gun in the car. Either way, Havana kept playing her bluff, ready to fight with her bare hands if the situation calls for it.

Even as she readied her legs to sprint at a moment's notice,Vesper crossed her arms as she tried to project a power she didn't feel.

"Well, you are standing on the sidewalk with a bloody knife. That's standard mugger behavior right there. And I'm not in the habit of accepting random knives from bloody strangers in the street. No offense."

Vesper paused for a moment as she remembered a detail from the conversation.

"But... what do you mean about a coincidence with Chicago?"

Shrugging and retracting the knife, Havana let out a small breath of relief as she reckoned she avoided a rather bloody catfight. "For the record, I didn't mug anyone. Just taught a sleaze a lesson." The girl muttered, sliding the blade into the nook of her thigh highs, the cool steel digging into her skin.

"Well, ever since I've gotten into this life, I've stayed in Chicago for the most of it. Just quite recently, my family got wiped out and I moved back to the Windy City from Paradise since a few friends took me in." Havana explained, now curious as to who this woman was. "I haven't met everyone in my new crew yet... say, who'd you say your friends were in Chicago again?" She asked, still on guard but now interested in finding out exactly who she was speaking to.

"Well, hopefully the sleaze deserved it."

Vesper paused, wanting to demand the stranger's information first. But... if this woman really was from Chicago, and if she was the sort of someone to stand on the sidewalk with a bloody knife... well, perhaps it would be better to play along and see if she could get on her good side. No need to make enemies when just starting out, after all.

"My name is Vesper. I work for Cesare Torretta. If you are a friend... can you prove it?"

She let the words hang in the air, relaxing somewhat after the woman put her knife away- but still ready to bolt. 

"Prove it? I didn't stab you did I?" Havana answered in annoyance. She hated it when people doubted her, this defense mechanism perhaps a product of her own self-doubt as well. Being new to the crew and just an associate, Havana had nothing on her that proved that she worked for the same family as this girl, and she was just as skeptical as Vesper when it came to believing that they were in the same crew.

Regaining her composure, she forced a smile and extended a hand. "Anyway, I'm Havana. If what you're saying is true, then you must be one of my fellow associates." She looked at the girl from head to toe and tilted her head ever so slightly. "Well, I don't have anything on me to prove it and I'd rather not divulge my family's secrets to a stranger who's potentially lying, so why don't you just meet me back in Chicago, buy me a drink, and let me prove my allegiance to you there?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"For the record, not stabbing someone is a very low threshold for trust..."

Vesper's next statement was interrupted by police sirens. The two women locked eyes for a split second before scattering, although Vesper yelled over her shoulder.

"It's a deal!"

Three Days Later

Vesper was prowling the halls of the HQ like a caged tiger. She'd gotten into a bit of trouble with some dangerous characters and was under strict orders to stay safe. As she turned a corner, she once again found herself looking at Havana. Vesper raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Well. At least there's no knife this time. But I guess you were telling the truth. Would you like to collect the drink I owe you now?"

Despite being part of the crew for a while now, this would only be the second time Havana would stay in the HQ as she'd been running all over the damn country tying up loose ends from her past life in Vegas. Trying to keep a low profile as she was just retrieving a few bags of cocaine, one can imagine her pleasant surprise when her eyes met a familiar set of heterochromatic eyes.

"I wouldn't cross out the possibility of me not having a knife just yet," Havana said with a chuckle, knowing full well she had a switchblade in her designer purse. "And don't mind if I do, I know just the place."

Half an hour later, Havana found herself sitting at the bar of her favorite speakeasy next to Vesper. As soon as she got settled, a drink was immediately served in front of her, the bartender knowing exactly what she was drinking - a scotch neat. Smiling gratefully, she turned to the woman next to her and smirked. "What are ya having? You know what they say, what a person's drinking says a lot about their character."

Vesper glances over at Havana and her drink, both of which seemed very intimidating. In her previous life, Vesper's father had not been a drinker- which meant that Vesper had only had her first drink a week or so ago. She'd thrown it up about an hour after, although that had more to do with seeing a man's head blown off than the drink itself. Still, it was probably better to take it slow.

"White wine. Pinot Grigio if you have it. If you don't, surprise me."

Hopefully a way of appearing confident, despite only knowing one type of wine...

"So, what does my drink say about me? And what does yours say about you?"

Vesper raised an eyebrow at Havana's glass.

"Oh- and I don't know if I should apologize for not believing you, Havana, because I still feel like randomly trusting a bloody-knife wielding person on the sidewalk isn't usually the best choice. But I'm glad to be wrong and- 

Vesper realized she'd missed a detail.

"Wait- did you say you have a knife on you now?"

Realizing she'd just asked several questions in a rapid fire sequence, Vesper leaned back on the bar-stool and tried to appear nonchalant. 

Havana nodded her head in appreciation - being the daughter of a mayor meant she was obliged to know exactly how good of a sweet wine a Pinot Grigio was. "It seems like you have an appreciation for the finer things in life," Havana replied before taking a sip of her drink.

"And as for my scotch neat... I suppose it means I like things straight to the point - no bullshit, you know?" Havana answered with a laugh before catching the slightest panic - or was that excitement? - in Vesper's tone.

A small smile creeping up her face, she nodded slowly. "I have a knife on me always, darling. How would I survive this world if I only had my looks and charisma to protect me?" Havana joked as she stroked her hair and batted her eyelashes before turning the tables on Vesper. "Don't you have a knife on you? Or are you more of a gun person?"

Vesper grinned.

"If I have an appreciation for the finer things in life, it's because I just recently acquired them..."

No bullshit. That certainly seemed to fit Havana. But Vesper listened intently as she listened to Havana speak about her weapon.

"No... I don't have one yet. Up until now, I've just relied on not being caught. Which has worked... but considering some recent experiences of mine, getting a weapon may be necessary. A gun, though? Seems like I'd be more likely to shoot a toe off by accident. I don't suppose you could... show me how to use a knife? I'd owe you a favor."

Havana pursed her lip as she feigned consideration. "Hmm, taking you under my wing? Tough one." The girl joked lightheartedly, though there truly was some doubt in Havana's mind - not that she didn't trust Vesper, but more that she didn't trust herself. Although she was a bit more immersed in this life of crime than the other woman, she still felt afraid of taking on Vesper's offer - what if she ended up disappointing her new friend?

A few beats of silence passed before Havana reached into her purse and produced a folded switch knife just around the size of her palm. "I'm no master, but I could show you some tricks." She said before hopping off the stool and walking towards a backdoor, gesturing for Vesper to follow her.

As they stood outside, Havana handed Vesper the knife before taking a step back and standing perfectly still. "I first learned how to use a knife when I had to steal an old lady's purse just to feed myself." Havana recalled, grimacing at the memories of those darker days. "Pretend I'm that old lady, and you haven't eaten in days. What would you do with that knife?" Havana asked, a probing look in her eye.

She knew Vesper was trustworthy and probably wouldn't stab and leave her for dead in this dingy alleyway. Either way, the brunette reached for the longer blade tucked under her stocking in case this went south, while she was crossing her fingers on her other hand that she won't get out of this lesson bloody and wounded. "Go ahead. You won't hurt me."

Vesper accepted the knife from Havana, trying a few different grips that the other woman demonstrated. 

As Havana presented the hypothetical old lady scenario, Vesper suppressed a grin. Well, Havana did tell her to go ahead.

As Havana walked past, she felt a light tug on her shoulder. She made it a few more steps before realizing that the purse was gone, the thin straps sliced by Vesper, who was standing a small distance away holding the purse.

"Sorry. I'll buy you a new one. You did say to pretend you were that old lady..."

Vesper grinned, hoping Havana wouldn't be mad.

"But I'm not worried about an old lady trying to attack me. Maybe I should have been more clear... I want to fight with this thing. Are there stances? Do I stab? Do I slash?"

The inexperienced woman moved the knife around as she spoke, punctuating her statements with actions. 

As soon as she realized what Vesper did, Havana's jaw fell, but she quickly picked it up and cleared her throat. "That was a new purse," Havana muttered as she snatched the purse away. "Good job though." The brunette commended the other woman with a grin.

Nodding as she listened to what Vesper was saying, Havana drew the knife from the top of her leg, exposing a sharp, gray blade longer than the switchblade. Havana carefully approached Vesper, stood beside her, and raised the knife, holding it in a stance ready for attacking. "Here, hold it like this." Havana told Vesper as she showed the girl how she handled the weapon - firm, but not too tight. "Personally, I think everything lies in how you hold your weapon. Firmly so it wouldn't leave your hand, but not too much that you can't move it around." Havana explained as she demonstrated a few stabbing motions which require her to twist her wrist or twirl the knife.

"When you're in a fight, I recommend staying low. Always aim for their leg or thigh - you stab when you think you have enough time to dig through the flesh, it creates more damage. If the other person moves quickly, slash him like this," Havana flipped the blade in her hand so that her pinky is nearest the blade instead of her thumb, and made a quick horizontal motion, keeping her arms close to her body, "..as it will still hurt, hopefully enough for your opponent to be weakened."

"You can't rely everything on the knife, you'd have to do some gruntwork as well. As soon as you hit their legs, pull their feet from under them so that they fall on the ground. Get on top of them and aim your knife at their throat - I'd say you're a winner." Havana said with a small smile. "Defense is a bit harder to explain though. My proposition is..." Havana raised her knife and aimed it at Vesper with a wicked smile. "...you learn by experiencing it firsthand."

Vesper watched Havana very carefully as the more experienced woman wielded her weapon. She mirrored Havana's grip, stretching out her arm slowly- focusing more on precision of movement than strength. Vesper was almost in a trance as she listened and copied. When Havana was done, Vesper's voice lacked it's usual sarcasm.

"Thank you, Havana. That was... beautiful. I think this is perfect. Could we keep practicing? Every now and then?"

She blinked, processing the last thing Havana had said.

"If you're proposing that we actually, you know, fight.... well, I'd be up for it. But maybe we could find something more wooden and less... me accidentally killing myself?"

She grinned.

"Hmmm... Or me killing you. Or vice versa." Havana lowered her weapon and placed a hand on her hip - it's this kind of impulsivity which always gets her into sticky situations. "You're right, I got ahead of myself." The brunette agreed as she tucked away her weapon and stepped closer to Vesper.

"And as for future practices.. you got it." Havana answered with a beaming smile, "...only if you replace my purse though."

Vesper laughed quietly, already thinking of finding a knife- or two- for herself. She returned the one she was holding to Havana and the two women walked off in the same direction, talking and planning.