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a cowboy bebop mary sue
"Stranger." She greeted Spike with a nod and a sensuous smile, her pale face almost colorless in the poor lighting. "Have a seat?"
Spike hovered, trapped in his decision making before returning the smile and sliding into the offered chair. "Thanks."
She titled her head like a bird, her black hair falling to cover one eye. "It's good to be in the company of friends," she drawled, her eyes lowering in content. "I've been the only one of us here for a while now. It's hard to fit in... But you know that."
"Huh?" Spike raised an eyebrow. "Look lady, you must have me confused with-"
The movement was quick and smooth, a hand swimming like silk through the air, but Spike moved faster than her and raised from the his seat just as her hand retreated. "What the hell?" He had prepared himself for a fight but she had done nothing of the sort. Instead of a hit all that had happened was a common robbery. She had stolen his gun, the wench.
The woman smiled again, twirling his gun on her index finger. "A bounty hunter, right? Me too. That makes us friends."
He laughed and sat back down, holding his hands up in defeat. "You got me lady, but how do you know I'm not just a member of a gun association? Or a thug?"
"Or that you just like to carry protection?" She put his gun on the table and slid it across to him. "Well, besides the fact that the head to have a bounty of it is from here, I heard that guy over there call you a hunter." The cigarette that had been drowning in a sea of ashes finally went out and she picked it up again, flicking a lighter on as she talked. "And," the lighter clicked closed and disapeared into a pocket, "You're far too good looking to be a common thug."
"Thanks lady."
She stuck out her hand, a white snake against the dark wood of the table. "Call my Sufi. Like I said, we're friends."
"Okay, Sufi," he shook her hand, "Can I get you a drink?"
"No, allow me." She waved her hand at a passing waitress and made her order. "Two blue rockies, iced." The name was unfamilar to Spike and he chocked it up to her prolonged habitation that she had hinted at.
"Whatever it is, it better taste good."
"It comes second only to me," she winked and chuckled, "Babe, you'll love it."
Her easy going seduction was noted but not appreciated; Spike's ardor had long dimmed and her silly attempts amused rather than intriqued him. Her outfit was composed of a lose white shirt that opened around the neck to reveal a tightly bandaged chest. Her long fingers rested quietly at the table, composed and still, unlike her mouth which smiled, pouted, puckered, and frowned as she chatted. The lips were lucious enough and someone else in the bar was probably dying for a taste, but Spike stared through her, bored and tired with her performance.
"All right, so I'm not your type," she didn't seem particularly upset with her observation; her eyes were soft and her smile pliant, "Can I still steal you for the night?"
Spike held in his answer until he tried his drink which arrived in the wrinkled hand of a waiter. The first sip froze his tongue but slipped smoothly down his throat. The second seemed warmer and tasted oddly of blue. Of blue, the color. "Buy me another of these and I'm yours."
Spike hovered, trapped in his decision making before returning the smile and sliding into the offered chair. "Thanks."
She titled her head like a bird, her black hair falling to cover one eye. "It's good to be in the company of friends," she drawled, her eyes lowering in content. "I've been the only one of us here for a while now. It's hard to fit in... But you know that."
"Huh?" Spike raised an eyebrow. "Look lady, you must have me confused with-"
The movement was quick and smooth, a hand swimming like silk through the air, but Spike moved faster than her and raised from the his seat just as her hand retreated. "What the hell?" He had prepared himself for a fight but she had done nothing of the sort. Instead of a hit all that had happened was a common robbery. She had stolen his gun, the wench.
The woman smiled again, twirling his gun on her index finger. "A bounty hunter, right? Me too. That makes us friends."
He laughed and sat back down, holding his hands up in defeat. "You got me lady, but how do you know I'm not just a member of a gun association? Or a thug?"
"Or that you just like to carry protection?" She put his gun on the table and slid it across to him. "Well, besides the fact that the head to have a bounty of it is from here, I heard that guy over there call you a hunter." The cigarette that had been drowning in a sea of ashes finally went out and she picked it up again, flicking a lighter on as she talked. "And," the lighter clicked closed and disapeared into a pocket, "You're far too good looking to be a common thug."
"Thanks lady."
She stuck out her hand, a white snake against the dark wood of the table. "Call my Sufi. Like I said, we're friends."
"Okay, Sufi," he shook her hand, "Can I get you a drink?"
"No, allow me." She waved her hand at a passing waitress and made her order. "Two blue rockies, iced." The name was unfamilar to Spike and he chocked it up to her prolonged habitation that she had hinted at.
"Whatever it is, it better taste good."
"It comes second only to me," she winked and chuckled, "Babe, you'll love it."
Her easy going seduction was noted but not appreciated; Spike's ardor had long dimmed and her silly attempts amused rather than intriqued him. Her outfit was composed of a lose white shirt that opened around the neck to reveal a tightly bandaged chest. Her long fingers rested quietly at the table, composed and still, unlike her mouth which smiled, pouted, puckered, and frowned as she chatted. The lips were lucious enough and someone else in the bar was probably dying for a taste, but Spike stared through her, bored and tired with her performance.
"All right, so I'm not your type," she didn't seem particularly upset with her observation; her eyes were soft and her smile pliant, "Can I still steal you for the night?"
Spike held in his answer until he tried his drink which arrived in the wrinkled hand of a waiter. The first sip froze his tongue but slipped smoothly down his throat. The second seemed warmer and tasted oddly of blue. Of blue, the color. "Buy me another of these and I'm yours."