As they burst giggling into the night, Merci and Kathryn walk a bit unsteadily down the brightly lit Strip. Night seems like day with so much glowing, dancing neon. Arms linked for support, they congratulate themselves for ditching Jack while he'd been visiting the men's room. So clever, were they!

Talking about everything and nothing, they are so engrossed in conversation that they don't seem to notice they're approaching the seedier part of town.

"And so I told him, 'Do I look like a pro? 'Cuz they dress way better!" She says with a cackle that ends on a hiccup.

Kathryn, flushed with alcohol and excitement, smiled as she held on to Merci's arm. More for Merci's sake- the woman had had quite a bit to drink... probably enough to knock Kathryn out for a week. But somehow, she Merci still standing. Staring up at the stars, Kathryn realized that Merci had been speaking to her.

"I'm sorry, a pro what? I think I missed something?"

Merci laughs. "A pro...stitute. I mean, I guess I am a pro, of sorts...just not in the sex trade. I mean, I'm good at it, but I don't charge..." A bewildered look crosses her face. Does this mean she's beneath a whore? Shrugging it off, she continues flapping her gums as they approach the mouth of an alley dark as pitch. A figure moves out if it, and a nearby street light illuminates him from behind...as well as the revolver in his hand.

Kathryn laughs along with Merci. This was certainly an unexpected turn in the conversation. Kathryn was just about to try to impress Merci with her own worldliness when the corner of her eye reveals a man holding a gun in an alley. She freezes. There's a small knife in her purse- but Kathryn finds herself unable to move, paralyzed with a mix of fear and indecision.

It's just gone, drained away in an instant. Whatever high she'd been riding evaporated as instinct rushed forward and took over. Her reflexes were only slightly off as she grabbed the hand with the gun, rolled into the assailants open arms, and dropped her weight against his arm as she took a fast knee into the concrete sidewalk. Her left kneecap screamed in agony about the same time their attacker's arm broke, gun skittered away and coming to a rest at Kathryn's feet. Standing up, Merci delivers a kick to the guy's bread basket for good measure. 

"Asshole. Didn't expect the little girlies to actually fight back, did ya?!?" she spat down at him. Turning and limping back to Kathryn, she picks up the gun and hands it to her. 

"Keep this. It's actually a good piece. Learn to use it; I'm sure your man is highly skilled and can train you properly. But every time you look at it, clean it, and use it, remember that the day you got it was the last time someone tried to get the better of you."

Kathryn almost dropped the gun when Merci handed it to her.

"Wh- where did you learn to do that?"

Turning them back towards the brighter, if not better, part of the Strip, Merci sighs. 

"I've been trained in basic hand to hand combat, most criminals are. Or should be," she says, favoring her left leg. She be sporting quite the bruise tomorrow.

"But I'm the lowest of the low. I kill people for money."

Kathryn couldn't help but shrink back initially, like Merci was some sort of dangerous animal. But after a few moments, she stepped forward and linked arms again. She began walking slower this time, so that the limping Merci could keep up with her. Normally, Kathryn's voice was bright and clear like metal, but there was something else there when she spoke again: a quiet, iron strength.

"Will you teach me? I will pay. I am looking to start a new business- or a series of new businesses- and I need to be able to protect myself when I run into people like him."

She held the gun in her left hand like it might grow teeth and bite her and, as they approached the sewer she dropped it in.

"I'll get a different one. A better one. Could you teach me that as well?"

Merci looked up at Kathryn and was surprised to see not only the strength she'd heard in her voice, but also a raw hatred. But as Kathryn's soft blue eyes locked with Merci's it seemed to fade, leaving the older woman to wonder whether it had ever really been there.

This young woman was full of surprises. 

"Certainly. With only the occasional out of town trips to fuss with, I don't really have anything else to do," she says, trying for a grin despite the sharp pain radiating out of her kneecap with every step she takes. She needed ice. And a shower. And a martini. And a bunch of green olives.

As they near the casino, Merci takes note of the dancing, colorfull water displays in the fountain out front. She'd been too preoccupied (hammered) to notice it on the first pass. 

"I think I'll just tent a room here tonight so I can stare out my window and watch this," she says absently. The show is mesmorizing. How do they do that?!?

Kathryn grinned.

"I'll get us adjoining rooms. I insist. Then tomorrow morning, we'll get to work. Deal?"

Kathryn noticed that, now lacking adrenaline, Merci seemed more unsteady again.

"Perhaps... later morning. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'll be okay. Just need some rest,"she says, leaning heavily on the younger girl. She couldn't help it.

"Let's see to those rooms. I've got maybe an elevator trip in me left before I'm dead to the world.

"And I'm sorry to say, I snore. Don't be alarmed if your windows rattle," she adds, rubbing her eyes as they start moving again towards the entrance.

Kathryn did her best not to breathe heavily as she helped Merci walk into the hotel. Physical exertion wasn't exactly her strong point. After helping Merci slump down in a chair, Kathryn made her way to the front desk and quickly returned with a pair of keys. Helping her new friend limp to the elevator, Kathryn grinned when the doors closed and hit the button for the top floor.

"No adjoining rooms, so I had to get a suite on top. Should be nice."

Nice was an understatement. The room reeked of opulence: perfect for Vegas. Gold was everywhere and the view itself, overlooking The Strip, left the two women staring for a moment. Kathryn quickly jumped on the phone in one of the three bedrooms as Merci looked around at the golden palace.

"Sodom and Gamorrah? Gomorrah? Casino please. Yes- I have in room in your hotel; I need to be connected to Jack Crawford, who is most likely around your craps tables but could be in room 719. Older man, muscles, probably looking very confused. Yes, I'll hold."

Kathryn held for a long time, wondering what Merci was up to. Was that snoring?

"Jack, it's Kathryn don't be mad. I'm fine. I made a friend. We almost got mugged. I'm FINE. Listen, we have a room at the hotel with the fountains. Yes, that one. And yes, the woman from the blackjack table. No, I don't think she's trouble. Well, she is. But she's the kind of trouble I'm looking for.

No, you don't trust anyone except me. I know. I know. Bring a couple of my bags over. Make sure there's stuff for tonight and for tomorrow- pants. I know. Okay, see you soon."

Hanging up the phone with half a grin, Kathryn went to check on Merci.

Merci had kicked off her boots, pulled a comforter off one of the beds, and made a nest in one of the recliners next to the large windows.Thanks to the wet bar, she had a small bottle of gin next to her, along with a now-empty jar of green olives.

When Kathryn re-entered the room, her head snapped back up. She'd fallen asleep for a minute there.

"This is the REAL City That Never Sleeps. Look at all that activity out there. So much going on, every minute of every day. I bet more energy is used within a one mile radius than the rest of the state combined," she says, yawning. She hadn't had to remove her jeans...the hole in the knee made applying a handful of ice wrapped in a bar towel quite simple.

Kathryn sat down on the recliner next to Merci's and grinned.

"You know this place has three bedrooms, right? Even if Jack stays in one, no reason to leave one empty. How's the knee? And... well... before Jack gets here, could you tell me about you? Your business? How you got started?"

Merci smiles. None of the rooms had a view quite as breathtaking as this one.

"I joined the service after high school. Wasn't smart enough for college. Did my three years, considered re-upping, but an opportunity presented itself. My master sergeant had been impressed with my skills on the range since day one. He was a good man, but with frightening connections, apparently. He'd been tasked with finding a shooter, and with my separation pending, he asked if I wanted the work. I guess I fit the profile...no strong family ties, no interest in starting one of my own, no close friends, and a large gap where my empathy should be," she said with a small smile as she remembered the conversation and the mixed feelings of 'honored' and 'offended' that she'd been chosen.

"I got out, he sent me to a handler, and I've been doing it for over a decade."

Kathryn seems a bit intimidated, but gingerly pats Merci's knee and grins.

"Sounds like you have a lot to teach me. Anything else? I want to get an early start tomorrow. Find some abandoned spot out in the desert."

Oh cripes. She was one of those hyper, chipper, grab the world by the balls at 6 AM types. 

Merci usually came to around noon.

"Um. Sure. We can do that," she says, nestling down further in the comforter. She really didn't wanna do that. But she would. She liked this girl. She had a charismatic magnetism to her that made you want to please her, make her happy. As she drifts off to sleep, Merci considers the other thing she needs to deal with tomorrow...her new husband, @Augustus_Caesar .

Merci woke up with a snub nosed revolver, already cocked, pressed up against her cheek. She looks up into the face of the grey haired, bearded man in a suit that looked vaguely familiar... she'd seen him from across the casino, heading into the bathroom. Jack. As her eyes flashed with recognition and she didn't make any move to attack him, he uncocked the revolver and took his finger off the trigger- but he kept the gun pointed at her.

His voice was soft, not wanting to wake up Kathryn, who was apparently sleeping in her room; it was a voice aged by years of drinking and silence, but not unpleasant to the ear. His suit was somewhat rumpled and his hair made him seem old, but his body was like a sturdy old oak. He looked down at Merci, half curious and half contemptuous.

"We need to talk. Quietly."

Oooookaaayyy," she said, sliding upright. She wasn't scared of Jack...if he was gonna put a hole in her, he'd have done it already. Running her fingers through her long chestnut hair, she tucks it behind her ears and nods for him to continue.

Jack rumbled.

I  want to know if you're willing to listen to a story. It's a long one, but you deserve to know what you're getting into. Then you decide to commit or walk away, your choice. But you'll have to stick with that choice. Got me?