Petra,

It's been a minute. Things ain't been going so hot out in L.A. Wouldn't use the term unfortunate. Because you know, that would imply that there still some fortune to be found here. I'd say it's a bloody tragedy. You know how hard it is to grift in a city where the only industry is grifting? See pretty broads wandering downtown all the time just waiting for some fat old bastard to tell her she's going to be a star in the picture shows. Next thing you know she's whoring herself out in some down town burlesque joint. See some mark walking about with too much cash and a distinct lack of knowing what to do with it. With in five minutes someone from real estates chatting his bloody ear off about some great investment opportunities in some desert shit hole called 'Beverly Hills'. Honestly, how are hard working men like me supposed to make a penny in a town where they fucking industrialized lying. Been working some 'jobs' here and there, should have enough to head back east soon. Hope you're still up for a job or two. With those doe eyes of yours skies the limit kid.

Yours in Christ, or whatever eldritch creature that refuses to fuck off you believe in now.

'Confidence Man'

 

Petra crumped the letter in her hand, already memorizing the details of where he wanted to meet her. Rage boiling up inside her, she didn't think twice to see him again, all her questions left unanswered. 
 

 Leather scraped with every step along the patch work back alley cloven together from dirt and rotting brick. His hands were lazily thrust into the pockets of his faded chinos. The white collarless shirt that bagged from his thin frame hung open, unbuttoned by three in the heat of the night exposing the tattooed flesh underneath. Relaxed gaze shifted from window to window peering into the busy lives of busy people tittering away on the right side of the law. A smirk tightened across his features, a scoff escaping him as he found himself. Just for a moment envying having some stability. 'Confidence Man' rolled his shoulders, his head leaning backwards. He fancied himself a drifter by nature. Though the truth of the matter happened to be he was chased out of most places he settled for his unsavory inclinations. He shifted around the corner finding the spot Petra had offered to meet him at. An enclosed alley bordered by mid sized brick buildings with nothing present but a dumpster. He took up a position pushing his slicked chin length brown hair from his face with one hand. The other holding a battered cigarette case. Petra's, a little momento of their previous working relationship together. Carefully he selected one, lighting it up as he waited idly humming to himself.

Ä̴̟́ͅr̷̘̎é̶̟ ̴̳̃͗y̵̟͖̌̀ó̶̠̦̐u̷͎͂͝ ̴͍͌a̴͈͝ ̶̪͑͑v̶̱̉̀i̵̞̝̎̀ō̶̦l̸̙͂e̸̺̿n̸̜̒t̴̯͎͊ ̴̧̦̓͝p̴̰̈̾e̶̚͜r̴̫̞̾̓s̵͓̱͒o̵̱̊͠n̸͇͊?̵̉??

"Am I a violent person?" Repeatedly thought to herself as she approached him. 
 

POW!

Petra slugged him across the face. 

"You think you can fuck me over....DAVE?" "You think you can steal money from me?" "You had to take my dead ma's cigarette box you fiend!" How dare you! 

Petra ran out of breath. Her furious rage unfurled at him like a thief in the night, pounding his face left and right, like a ninja on steroids. 
 

 He was leaned up against the dumpster his back resting casually as smoke bellowed from his slightly crooked features. His nose broken leftwards leaving the man's partician features in disarray, his pearly white teeth marred by a missing tooth lost in an altercation in Saint Louis. His thin face framed by long side burns as a lock of hair hung into his face always being pushed back only to dangle free again. He tossed the cigarette as he heard the clicking of feet burning down the bricks to him. A smile crossed his face as he stepped free, a tall man wearing ragged oversized clothing, his arms extended as if expecting a hug. "Petra!" He announced boisterously "It's been too long darlin'." He offered before CRACK her small fist slammed across his jaw, her voice ringing out tinged with rage as she began to unleash three years of frustration on her former partner. He stumbled only for her to follow on his heels, his head snapping back and forth as bruised knuckles made contact with his face leaving darkening marks of busted capillaries under the scruffed skin. He grunted pain swimming through his head acting on instinct he stepped forward into her guard as she continued to batter his face. Bringing his fist low and then upward into her soft belly trying to drag the wind from her sails. His usual relaxed charming airs disappearing as he hissed into her face "Is that... how ya greet an old friend?"

Dave.

She doubled over, side-eying him, grabbing her gut. Her eyes closed a brief moment, her back propped up against the muddied dumpster. 

An unidentified assailant PICKPOCKETED you, taking $15,000

What the? How from just being punched in the gut did I get pickpocketed at the same time? But I identify Dave...no that wasn't him... okay. Some rando. 

Petra paused a moment from her gut-wrenching pain next to dumpster with icky pool of mud and those really sharp gravel stones that you always wondered the texture of it, but never dared to touch. Her breathing slowed down. So not only is she missing  three million dollars, but now she's missing $15,000 wads of fat stacks of cash she had in her pocket the entire time. She was in no mood to mug back. At this point that option wasn't open to her. Mugging. Man, she should've stayed working at Rat Punks Casino instead, yet the idea of walking around in a leotard and wearing mouse ears didn't sound appealing. 

"Why?" She looked at Dave, the rising stench of 1930's level sewage wafting up from the gutters.  

 He felt the hit. His fist sinking into the soft flesh of her mid section, digging upwards into her solar plexus. The air left her in a strangled groan as she fell backwards, doubling over to protect herself as she fought for the air to return to her lungs. He reached up, calloused hand taking his battered jaw as he jerked it to the right rubbing softly as he stepped towards her. Blue eyes fixated on the woman leaning against the dingy dumpster trying to make out her features through the darkness of their surroundings. He reached out slowly, trying to dig his hand into her tresses and pull her upwards, trying to slam the back of her head into the dumpster. To physically dominate the woman and pin her in place, back against the metal as he leaned forward "Why what?" He asked slowly, eyes locking with her. "Why'd I take the money and run? We're confidence men Petra. Only a matter time til' you'd have done the same to me. Now cut the shit or I'll beat your ass."

Petra gazed into his familiar crystal blue eyes for a brief moment before feeling her head slam into the back of the dumpster. The echoing sounds of the metal dumpster vibrated against the back of her skull, like a waterdrop ripple.  Her breathing calmed down slowly, her eyes started to focus on his gruff voice warning her to calm down. 

She remembered she was a Goomba and he was still just a Thug. 

"GOOOOOMBA" she hissed.

"So you spent the money?" She pulled out her cigarette and flicked a light, illuminating her face in the dark alley for the first time. Thin, pale skin, large brown baby bush eyes, with dark purple under-eye circles. Her dark brunette locks matted in sweat and tucked behind her shoulders after being slammed back. 

He watched her hiss at him about her little title before she seemed to begin to calm. He drew in a breath as he stepped back releasing her sweat mattered hair fishing into his pocket for the cigarette case which popped open as he produced his own cigarette pressing it between lips freshly split by the tiny hands of his old partner. He lit up, taking a drag "Fraid so, Goomba." He offered blandly rolling his shoulders into a lazy shrug as smoke bellowed from him. "Money ain't going as far these days what with the recession. Besides you know me, I like to live a little bit... classier than most." He offered slamming the cigarette case closed with a smart snap. "So whatcha got going these days. Smart little Petra always had some scheme going back in the day."

Petra felt the nudge of his shoulders, his arms barely touching hers. She knew she was taking a risk bringing him into this thing of ours, but the stakes were high, and the money was pouring in Vegas. She loved money.  

"Look, I came to Vegas to be with DocKnowles. I'll put in a good word in with AlexanderWestwood. We can start working again, but this time if you run, I'm going to call in a favor from my Uncle Fettuccini." 

He listened to her as he stepped back "Huh. Doc Knowles. Interesting name, must be some sorta learned folk you're running with now adays." He offered his chin length brown hair spilling into his face from her wild punches, his hand came up pushing it from his bruised features as the other held the cigarette for another billowing drag. "Sounds interesting enough and don't worry Doe Eyes. I ain't gunna run unless you start getting all clingy and romantic again." He said offering a smile before he began to shift free from her casually strolling down the alley his hands in his pockets "Stayin' at a motel, edge of town. Cassvile Lounge. You should swing by sometime.. Oh... and before I forget." His hand slid free from his pocket, turning as he tossed her cigarette case to her in a fluid motion that resulted in a completed about face, his battered boots carrying him down the dark alley into the night leaving the muddled woman to herself and him with new connections in town.