Kitten walks along Navy Pier, taking in the scent of the beach along with cigarette smoke from some passersby and the distinct smell of the freighters being docked. 

She daydreams as she is walking alone, thinking of the ancient Potawatomi’s propelling their Birch bark canoes down the shore of the Great Lake of Michigan.  She can imagine the smell of the wood and the pitch.  She  brings up an image of the ominous waves of the beautiful, but dangerous lake in front of her.

She feels the wind in her face, and it is a crisp autumn air.  She smiles for no apparent reason and gets the attention of one of the dock hands who is wandering around.  He tries to block her from progressing, but a quick flash of her Colt 1908 Hammerless moves him along and out of her way quickly.

Wild_Kitten sees some commotion in the distance.  A lot of fancy cars and well-dressed men and women.  Not exactly sure what it is, she moves along toward it.  As she comes upon this building, there seems to be a party going on inside.  It appears to be open to the public.  Of course there is a lot of entertainment along Grand Avenue, but this building is amazing.  It’s white with giant pillars that remind her of an old plantation in the south.  The sign on the front says,

Chicago Lakeshore Palace Ballroom

She steps inside and is completely blown away by the atmosphere.  There is a bag and coat check off to the right.  On the left a cigarette girl standing in an outfit that barely covers her behind.  Wild_Kitten isn’t easily shocked, but she can’t help but look at the girl who seems very much at ease with herself.

Even though she is a bit underdressed, she makes her way inside the beautiful doors, which are made of carved oak.  She gasps as the room is made known to her.  The ballroom is the biggest one she has ever seen and it is full of gorgeous people dancing to the latest tunes.  She isn’t familiar with the band, but they are in full swing and she steps along to the beat.

There is a beautiful dining area just behind the ballroom, she peers in and sees gold lame’ curtains on the windows and white linen tablecloths, fine china, real silver service and gold candelabra’s on each of the tables. Some of the tables have rose bowls filled with every different color of the rainbow.  It is beautiful and breathtaking.  The chairs are all covered with gold lame’.  Ladies in elegant formals and tea dresses, Men in swanky suits and tuxedos all are seated for what looks like a seven course meal.

Just when she thinks she has gotten by unnoticed, a big burly man with tattoos covering both forearms grabs her up.

It’s about time you got yer sorry ass here, he sneers into her ear in a whispered tone.  I’ve got perfectly good customers waitin’ for drinks.  Get it movin’.

With that he cracks her a good one on the behind as he throws a costume her way.

Put that on and make yerself look pretty, the way a cocktail waitress is supposed ta’ look.  If ya hike up her bosoms a bit ya might make a pretty penny offa the big tippers.

He is obviously mistaken about her identity, but Kitten takes this opportunity to look around the place some more.  She is sure that there are famous people here from all walks of life.  Gangsters, wannabe starlets, maybe even a director or producer or two.  She slips into the costume.  It reminds her of a ballerina costume, but not quite as classy.

She looks in the mirror,   Not too shabby for a newly hired pretend cocktail waitress,

Kitten remarks out loud to herself, all the while giggling quietly.

The cocktail dress is a dark shade of red, I guess I would call this Scarlett,  She tells the mirror.

It has long lacy sleeves that cover the front of her hand, and the bodice is velvet with a satin ribbon around the waist. The skirt flairs out a bit, like a skater’s skirt and every bit as short.  It has matching scarlett underpants made of satin.  Wild_Kitten is hopeful that information will stay under her skirt where it belongs.  She doesn’t plan on flashing anyone.

Then she sweeps her hair up into a sultry little up do with a couple of bobby pins she has in her pocket.  She checks out her breasts and sees that they don’t really need to be hiked up, they’re pretty much out in full view with this outfit. 

She heads toward the bar area and grabs up a tray full of champagne flutes.

So this is how the other half lives.  I think I could get used to this kind of life, Kitten tells the Champagne flutes with a flippant tone.

She walks around the dining room offering her fare to the patrons of the establishment, wondering what this evening will bring.  Kitten likes to fantasize, but she couldn’t have thought this one up in a million years.

The place was electrifying. Scores of the rich, powerful, and their playthings laughed and partied like the heathens of some long dead religion. Grinding and gyrating to the music as it moved them to rhythmic ecstasy. It reeked and oozed with elicit tales and soft whispers of satisfactions being satiated and those yet to be had.

The pulse of the city could be felt here. It’s rhythm constantly pumping and pumping along like the wild hungry animal that it was. The movements of the dance floor giving way to the primal desires of lust, ecstasy, and greed of the lost souls currently seeking salvation in the ebb and flow of the music.

And then there was the Irishman.

Coolly clinging to the outskirts of the crowd but not allowing himself to be drawn in by the maddening gratification of the venue. He had tasted this intoxicating fruit before and gone down many a dark road because of it, but this fruit was forbidden to him tonight. His clarity was needed in the near future and would be needed again in the days ahead. It seemed it was needed more and more as of late and becoming a made man in the employ of Mr. Torretta was starting to weigh on him more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

This place reeks of sex. And the women here would cause a priest to lose his conviction. Keep it together Finn. Though maybe it wouldn't hurt to mellow out a little brother. You don't want people thinking you’re some kind of stiff.

Allowing himself this small indulgence even if it was mostly to keep from being consumed by the madness before him, he drew out a joint, ignited it and took a long drag.

Finn continued to navigate his way through the mob of bodies dancing in an effort to locate the source of a tip he received a couple of nights back that had led him to this soirée of living ecstasy.

That is when saw her.

It almost stopped him dead in his tracks. She was here. It didn't matter that she was wearing a cheap but revealing costume in a role for whatever game she was currently playing at. He would have noticed her anywhere.

His investigation would have to be put on hold for a little while. There are some things in life that a man must simply do regardless of what the world requires of him. This was one of those moments.

No words were spoken as he handed his joint off to a random young woman on the dance floor who was dancing with a couple of her girlfriends. She turned to offer her thanks but it didn't matter to the Irishman. She might have had a name or interesting things about her that would have been revealed in polite conversation. She was just a random face and it didn't matter to him in the slightest.  He had already been in motion the second she received his drug of choice. Everything was insignificant to the beautiful creature he was currently focused on.

My Siren. Here you are taunting me again. Drawing me in this time like the cruel demon you are. Not by your singing this time but by the way you move and breathe. So casual. So carefree. So alive. So dangerous and so you...

Finn masked his approach by continuing to weave through the mob of dancers and made his way to within a couple feet behind the unknowing woman. He took his time with the last couple of feet as he admired the beauty and angles of the woman before him.

Her current objectives were unclear to him but he was intrigued as to why she was here pretending to be a simple server. In the end though, it didn't even matter to him because it was serendipity in it's truest form.

The short cocktail dress she wore seeped with deep shades of crimson and enthralled him like a prize fighting bull. And the lace. It tantalized him and drew his eyes to the ribbon around her waist as if she were a present to be opened. It left little to the imagination in terms of the shape and curves of her body but the Irishman had a vivid imagination and found himself fantasizing about her again.

What is she doing here of all places? Be still my heart. There is nothing there but madness behind that curtain. Sheer....divine...madness. And I crave it so....

He crept right up behind her as she was setting her tray of champagne glasses on a table. Her presence was so close he could feel the heat of her body waft off of her daring him to feel her touch upon his hands. The smell of the perfume she wore wove it's spell upon him and he found himself wanting to drink all of her in. It was almost too much for a man to bear.

Finnigan took his time and enjoyed the moment before finally saying in a low raspy voice, “Hello sweet Kitten. Do tell....are you happy that I am here now, with you?”

Kitten allows herself to scan the room, getting a glimpse of the rich and rich wannabes while she passes out champagne.  She hears little smatters of their conversation, and after a short while realizes that their lives are just as mundane as hers. She had been hoping to hear some juicy gossip or perhaps a risqué tête-à-tête of some sort.  So far nothing, but the night is young.  Anything could happen. She feels a smile on her face and she allows herself the luxury of a little make-believe. 

If only, Kitten thinks to herself.  If only.  Now just stop it right now.  She tells herself sternly.  He isn’t that interested in you anyway.  Forget about it.  Just get back to the present and quit your fantasizing right now.  But her mind won’t allow it.  She keeps flashing back to a few nights ago, he had her spellbound and then he was gone like the wind, and she really didn’t have any reason to bump into him again.

Hey tray is down to one full champagne flute and she is about to head back to the bar when she feels a charismatic presence behind her.  She can tell that someone is observing her, and she turns to see who it might be.  As soon as he speaks her heart drops.  He is seeing her in this horrible and cheap costume, passing out drinks like a servant girl.  He speaks, but she barely hears what he says, except for her name.  The way he says it with a smile on his face sends her into a panic.  She looks for a way out of this, but she doesn’t truly want to escape. 

She tries to think of something witty to say, but her mind goes blank.  Just as she is about to speak, she sees big and ugly tattoo guy coming at her and he doesn’t look happy.  She quickly offers him the last drink on her tray, but it is too late.

What the hell is the matter with you, ya stupid cow?  Get your bum movin’ or yer out ova job.  Fill up that tray and get crackin’ sister.  He knows he is embarrassing her, and Wild_Kitten is certain that was his intent.

With that, he once again smacks her dead on the butt.  Kitten is mortified to say the least.  There isn’t much chance of impressing this man while being beat on by the bar manager. And while it didn’t hurt much, it did sting her pride.  Having his filthy hands on her made her sort of sick.  A tear springs to her eye as she looks at Finnigan helplessly.  She turns around and all but runs up to the bar for another tray of drinks, trying to blend anonymously into the crowd.

When his Siren turned around, it was as if all of time was frozen in place and all things around them ceased to exist. All the noise and distractions occurring behind the pair lost all of their significance to him. The Irishman could feel everything moving at a snail's pace as he felt his heart slow and he had to remind himself to breathe.

She remained silent as she faced him but her body spoke the volumes her mouth dare not speak. He knew in that instant that she was excited that he was here. There was no second guessing the emotions that danced across their eyes as they looked at each other.

Just as it appeared that she was about to say something, her entire demeanor changed to a timid bird about to fly away as she hurriedly thrust a drink in his hand. Her brow furrowed like she was about to be in trouble and wanted him to leave.

Somewhat confused by her sudden change, Finn was about to say something when a rather uncivilized gentleman sporting rather untasteful tattoos moved in and said, “What the hell is the matter with you, ya stupid cow? Get your bum movin’ or yer out ova job. Fill up that tray and get crackin’ sister.”

The tattooed man then slapped Kitten on the rear and flashed a knowing grin at Finn.

Did this prick just smack her on the ass and then grin at me? I'm about to destroy this man.

I will not kill this man in front of all these people.

I will not kill this man in front of all these people.

I will not kill this man in front of all these people.

While cautioning himself to not end this man's life several times at such a public venue, instant and immediate rage coursed through the Irishman's veins as the woman he had been infatuated with was so suddenly and very harshly degraded right before his very eyes. Finn saw his Siren rush off in almost tears towards the bar area and his heart ached in that moment but the rage resurfaced as he directed his attention back to the man before him.

She should end this charade before I murder this man. Hell, I might murder him out of spite. The son of a bitch must think himself quite the man pushing around women like that. Smile Finn. Smile like you enjoyed it. He has no idea...the hell that I am about to sow.

Finn flashed the man an enthusiastic grin back in order to show his fake approval that quickly turned into seething stare of pure malice as the apparent manager of the joint turned and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

The Irishman had come into the place on a simple scouting mission but all of that was out the window when his beautiful Siren had been handled as such by an ogre of a man. He drained the champagne glass in a single swig and stalked towards the kitchen very much a man on the hunt.

As Finn entered the kitchen there was the expected sound of pans clashing, fires being ignited, and a dozen cooking utensils scraping and slamming against wooden cutting tables. An a normal night the Irishman might have been impressed by the professionalism of all the cooks plying their trade and making dozens of meals on the spot for the hungry customers outside. Unfortunately there was nothing normal about this night as far as he was concerned.

He did a quick scan of the area and deduced that there were about 7 kitchen staff on hand, none of which looked very threatening, and the manager whom he had an account to settle with.

The manager easily had at least sixty pounds on Finnigan but he also had that arrogance about him that spoke of a life of always being the big one just from eating a lot and being born big boned. There was zero struggle or fire in his eyes speaking of having to work hard at it or ever being an underdog. There was no heart or drive in the man. The Irishman had seen dozens of men like him who could never deal with their sudden change in circumstance if they ever found themselves on the streets. They always crumbled. The weak always did.

He humiliated her in front of me like that and I'm about to humiliate him in front of the whole staff. His pride will be his undoing on this night. You reap what you sow and this son of a bitch won't walk another day in his life again without a limp.

Nobody seemed to care about the Irishman who had just moved into the busy kitchen even though a couple of the cooks had looked up at him and then immediately back down to their work. It was as if they all just assumed he belonged. Nobody ever questions a man with that drive in his eye who is on the move and Finn was very much a man on a mission at that moment.

He approached the manager head on with the walk of a man completely in his element. The manager turned to him and said, “Hey buddy, dis areas' off limitz. So bugger off.”

Finn said, “No I have something for you for taking such good care of my friend back there.” as he held out his empty right hand for the manager to view.

The manager looked down at the empty hand and then glanced back at Finn with an irritated look. There was a look in Finn's eyes that told of a coming darkness. The manager looked like he was about to say something when the Irishman moved quick as a whip and slapped the man like a pimp slapping one of his girls. The force of the blow reeled the man and just as he was recovering, Finn carried through with a backhand that really seemed to stagger the tattooed man.

Being manhandled in front of his staff was clearly not on his list of acceptable things to occur to him for the evening and the man charged Finnigan in an attempt to barrel him with his size.

The quick thinking Irishman no stranger to dirty fighting, grabbed a handful of flour from a table beside him and threw it in the man's eyes. Unable to see, the manager staggered around blindly swinging and attempting to grapple with anything within arms reach of him. Finn circled the man and slammed his head into a wooden table and commenced pummeling him with reckless abandon on the back of the head.

The manager slumped head first against the table but his pride got the better of him as he tried to raise himself off the ground. One well placed kick from Finn at the manager's ankle made a very audible *CRACK* as bone could be heard breaking and sent the man crashing back down to the floor. The Irishman feeling zero empathy towards the jerk, placed the man's hand on the wooden table, grabbed a nearby kitchen knife, and stabbed it through the man's hand and into the table.

The manager screamed in agony as his hand was impaled upon the table. The Irishman having still not received satisfaction from the man, commenced slamming the man's head into the table a few more times until the man's head was a bloody mess.

You don't deserve to get out of this humiliation. I want you to live with this for a little while longer. You're not dead are you...?

Finn gave the man a kick in the ribs to see if he was still alive. The manager gave out a muffled cry and the Irishman nodded to himself having discovered the truth of the matter.

He knelt down besides the bleeding man and went in as if to whisper but instead almost shouted, “Her name is Kitten not stupid cow, you stupid cur'. You're lucky I've got other business to attend to and can't be bothered to bury a body tonight. You fuckin' Italian prick. Say her name!”

The manager looked like he was going to say something, but slumped over unconscious but still breathing.

Just perfect Finn. Just bloody fucking perfect. 

Sighing as he stood up, Finn gave himself a quick self examination, it occurred to him that he had yet another suit ruined by being covered in flour and blood. This was starting to become an issue.

You should really stop fighting people in cooking establishments...

Finn took one last look and spit on the man in contempt. Then for the first time, acknowledged all of the cooking staff in the room before him. He flashed them a stone cold stare, daring them to utter a single world to anyone about this moment and then turned around to leave the kitchen and head back out into the bar to find his Siren.

He was stopped in his tracks again for the second time tonight as she was standing in the doorway, staring at him.

Well that happened. She must think me an animal...

As Kitten runs off for the tray of champagne, she sees Finnigan following the manager into the kitchen.  At first she doesn’t think much of it.  She leaves her tray sitting and  decides to follow him to see what he is up to.

As she stands in the doorway she watches, standing frozen just like a sentinel on duty.  Finnigan beats the man until he is unconscious, and Kitten is amazed at his strength and determination. 

If she wasn’t enamored of him already, his action of defending her honor sealed his fate.  She looks on wide eyed, with admiration cringing at the thought of Finnigan being hit by the malicious brute. When he finally stops, his eyes are drawn to hers like a magnetic force.  He looks down briefly and Kitten runs straight into his arms, not even thinking of being aloof anymore.  He has proven himself to her a thousand times over.

Are you alright?  Let me look at your hand.  It’s bruised, oh my God.  Let’s get some ice. 

She fusses over him for a few minutes, hanging onto him like her life depended on it and she looks at him besotted and in total awe.

Men throughout history have always had to be doing something. Even if it appeared to be nothing as long it felt like something to them. And while they were in the middle of doing something they eventually had to learn a little bit about what that something was. Then when they knew a little bit about something they had to understand why they knew a little bit about those things. This kind of thought process lead to them wondering about a great deal of wonderful and mysterious things. Eventually they started wondering about women. As many thousands of years passed, it became abundantly clear however that man had absolutely no clue as to what women wanted.

And in not breaking with thousands of years of evolutionary thought, Finnigan had literally no fucking idea what Kitten was about. This beguiling creature was here treating him like a hurt little puppy after the Irishman had just beaten another man senseless right in front of her.

But my god does she have a way with me. I can barely think straight around her...

The Irishman zoned out in a trance like state as his Siren nurtured him with her tenderness. Now that she was once again within arms reach of him, he could smell the scent of her upon him. He could feel the warmth of her breath upon his face as she fret about his injuries. In his trance like state he found himself getting lost in her eyes and his hand began moving as if willed to life on his own.

No, I don't need any ice for my pains. I want to be engulfed in the fire of you. I want to be consumed by it and to feel the heat of it throughout my entire body.

His hand found it's way upon her neck as he slowly traced the elegant outline of it with his fingertips. Touching her bare skin brought on an eagerness within him to taste that which he had wanted since the first night he saw her sing. He could feel the pulse of her heart in her neck as it quickened rapidly at his touch. The intimacy of it drove his desire of her into a moment of boldness.

Giving into his need of her, he leaned in and tasted her lips for the first time with his own. There was an immediate stirring of passion within him as he moved both his hands upon her neck and drank her in like she was he last thing he would taste on this earth. His hold on her grew more tense as he found himself unable to let her go as he continued to explore the cataclysm of pleasure exploding between the two of them. He felt as if he had never tasted anything so sweet in his life before and never would again.

Stop. I don't think I can.....STOP. You came her for a reason and you are losing yourself in this woman. FUCK.

Panting as if slightly out of breath and with extreme difficulty he held himself at arms length from the woman, averted his eyes from her and said, “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I'm a stupid, stupid man. I can't believe I'm saying this to you. I want this. I want this so very badly but...I came here on a small mission but as luck would have it I have found something far more alluring than a gentleman's game of cards.”

The Irishman stood up and brushed himself off slightly. Then with a pained look he said to her, "However, I really have to check it out or my boss is going to have my head. I heard tale that there might be a poker game in the back room of this joint. I was going to scope it out and see if there was any prospect to it at all. Not for just a potential night's winnings either but to determine if there was a long term investment of sorts to be had here. Do you care to join me? I could use the help of a beautiful woman, truth be told.”

As he looks at her, she feels slightly confused.  She is confused by what she wants, and she is confused by what he wants or what she thinks he wants.  Then it becomes crystal clear as he kisses her like she has never been kissed before.  He leans in and touches her, and she briefly wonders if this is a very good idea or not.  But the kiss has a life of its own and far be it for her to try to control it.  She succumbs to his expert touch with a passion she has never felt before.  All the while chastising herself for imagined sins. Kitten escapes into a new world of the unknown.  With wide wonder she looks up at this man who has wandered into her life and captured her heart and soul.

Very abruptly he stops, she looks quizzically at him.  Kitten has never understood men and this one isn’t any different, but he is speaking to her and she tries to listen.  Her heart is pounding in her chest and she is sure he can hear it over the sounds of the people around them.

Suddenly she understands.  She nods as he is explaining the business that is going on in the basement.  She grabs his hand and drags him through the bar and across the dance floor.

Earlier tonight one of the other girls told me about it.  There seems to be quite an operation happening downstairs.  I’m not sure how easy it will be to get in, but maybe we can give it a try.

When they get to the door, a guard comes out of nowhere and steps in their path.

No dames downstairs, bosses orders.  As far as you buddy, you need an invitation.

He holds out his hand like he is expecting Finnigan to produce a document.  Kitten has an idea and says, I think we may have left it in the car.  Smiling at the guard somewhat seductively, she whispers something in his ear.  At first she doesn’t think he is buying it, as he looks her up and down, but after a bit he opens the door and lets them pass by.

What on God’s earth did you say to that man?  You made that seem entirely too easy.  Finnigan says almost a little too loudly.

Kitten replies, The other server told me that for women to get downstairs, they had to be the uhm, uh entertainment of sorts.  They were given a passcode to give the guard if they are willing and  want to make some extra money.  These men apparently think women are only good for one thing.  She told it to me, and I simply used it to get us downstairs.  I told him that you were an important man and I had been given explicit instructions to take you with me.

She smiles at him disarmingly, hoping he appreciates her little deception.

The Irishman followed his muse through the swarm of bodies on the dance floor. While he was not one normally prone to having a woman drag him around, he was most definitely enjoying being led about like a personal plaything of hers. The Kitten of tonight was quickly turning into the fearless creature he had observed on the first night at the Broadway Club and it was about damn time.

While they were descending the staircase into the lower level, Finn listened to his Siren speak of her subterfuge in getting them through the door above and he took special note of the words:

“…think woman are only good for one thing…”

It made him crack a devilish smile like he was up to no good and knew it. Suddenly and without warning, he pulled her towards him and said with a mocking grin, “And what else exactly are women good for, Miss Kitten?”

She looked at him with feigned anger in her eyes and attempted to swat at the him.

As her hand was reaching to strike him, Finn grabbed her by the wrist, pushed her up against the wall, and stared in her eyes with a feverish hunger. There was a moment of pure coherence between the two of them as they stared locked in each other's eyes. 

Her own daring and Finn's lust for the taste of her pushed him past the brink. His mouth moved slowly, closing inch by agonizing inch as he verged upon her lips. He closed his eyes and tasted the sweetness of her again and felt his self control wane in it's strength. His left hand made its way up the outside of her right thigh and slip underneath her dress. He rested his head in the nook of her neck as his hand reached her underwear and felt the fabric of them.

Finn's hand started sliding further underneath her panties when he opened his eyes and saw the wild look in her eyes and it just made him…

NO! STOP! For Christ’s sake man pull yourself together. She has too much of a grip on you. Don’t lose control with her like that. At least not here…not now.

He whispered hastily into her ear, “This can’t happen here. I’m sorry…I won’t be able to stop if we continue. Your bodyguard can’t be following you down there with lipstick all over him now can he? It just wouldn’t send the right signal.”

He shook his head as he looked away from her and tried to compose himself accordingly.

“Look, when we get downstairs, it could get dangerous. Though…I think that’s what you want. No, I know that is what you want. It’s what you crave. You get off on the excitement of all this. Don’t you? You don’t want anyone to know that secret about you. But I know that you pretend to be timid at times but this is what you really live for…the danger of it all.” he said while looking at her mischievously.

The Irishman went in to kiss her one last time but instead found her taking a quick bite at his bottom lip and flashing him a wicked grin. Not the least bit shocked he grinned at her in turn and motioned for the “entertainment” to continue on and he followed her like the silent protector her was supposed to be.

As @Finnigan jokes with Kitten, she bats her hand at him playfully.  The next thing she knows, she is under his spell again as he kisses her soundly.  She opens her eyes in the midst of it and his intensity astounds her.  She watches his face as he touches her powerfully.  Then he stops once again, as if she had done something wrong.  Be damned if she was going to fall into his trap again.  Well, more than likely she would.  He has cast a wide net and she has swam right into it. Regaining her composure, she leads him downstairs like the boss she is.  As they bust in on the group, she sees that it is a generous mix of small time hoods and high dollar dandies.  She walks over to the guy who appears to be running the joint and puts her finger right in the middle of his chest.  She is sure he thought her a joke, with her short skirt and high heeled shoes.

It looks like you have quite the scam going on here mister, but you forgot about giving a cut to @The_Kid.  I don’t think he is going to be that happy when I tell him what’s going on.

The guy is stupid enough to try to grab her and twist her arm as she is telling him the score.  She swiftly disarms him as she sucker punches him.  Finnigan isn’t the only one who knows how to street brawl.  Kitten looks smoldering and sort of helpless, but she is a force to contend with especially when angry.  She waves the gun in the air and shoots out a light fixture.  That gets the attention of everyone there, including Finnigan who is sort of staring at her.

This is the way things are going to work.  My friends and I are going to come around weekly and take a half of the cut.  If we think  you are holding out on us, we will take it out of your hide.  Is that understood?  Better yet, I think we will be here nightly to run the joint.  It looks like a business that could interest me.  Yes, half the cut and I get all the say.  Sounds right, doesn’t it?

She leans in toward him and pokes the gun into his ribs. 

How does that sound mister?  I think you are getting a sweet deal. 

He simply nods at her.

With that she looks him dead in the eye.  She is just waiting for him to make the wrong move so she can make an example of him.

One more thing, don’t ever underestimate a woman.  She may have more tricks up her sleeve than you ever dreamt.  I’ll take the first payment right now.

She flashes him her sweetest smile as he collects the cash and hands it to her.  She holds out her hand and then turns to Finnigan and gives it to him.  He slips it into his jacket and they head up the stairs, turning at the landing and heading back out into the night.