They lapsed into silence, emptying bottles and filling ashtrays as they pretended to ignore one another.
Moore was starting to look and feel drunk, but Cass was as collected as she had been an hour and a half earlier. The colonel’s hair was coming out of its twist and her eyeliner had smudged, but Cass’s hands and voice were steady when she ordered the next round.
Their eyes met in the mirror, and a subtle shift in posture turned the sidelong look into a challenge. Moore squared her shoulders and ordered another drink, snapping at the bartender when her glass wasn’t refilled fast enough. Cass dropped her gaze, laughing behind her hand.
Moore was a drink past decorum and two past caring. She turned on her stool to face Cass.
“You looking for a fight?” she demanded.
“Not with you,” Cass said. She wasn’t slurring, but her cheeks were almost as read as her hair.
Her tone set Moore’s teeth on edge. “I was in the Rangers,” she spat. “I hit you, you hit the ground.”
The redhead snorted. “Maybe five years ago. You’re past your prime, sister.”
Moore’s hands clenched at her sides, fisting in the pretty fabric of the useless dress. “I’m giving you one chance,” she said, her voice low and clipped, “you shut your mouth.”
“Fuck you, bitch,” Cass said. “If you were gonna hit me, you already would have.”
Moore didn’t hesitate. Her fist connected with the other woman’s face, and the entire bar heard something crack as Cass slipped backwards off her barstool. The look of utter shock on her face was so sweet that Moore smiled, despite herself.
“Bitch,” she said, and then she was surrounded by casino security.
She was very calm as they hauled her out of the bar and into the dimly lit offices. She was led through a dull, concrete maze and ushered into a nondescript office with stained wallpaper and discolored, water-damaged chairs. As soon as the door closed behind her, Moore realized that she’d left her purse sitting on the bar.
The Omertas kept her there for nearly an hour. She paced restlessly, and the movement cooled enough of her agitation to keep her hands at her sides when the floor manager finally found the time to deal with her.
Scorpion Honey, 2a/?
Moore was starting to look and feel drunk, but Cass was as collected as she had been an hour and a half earlier. The colonel’s hair was coming out of its twist and her eyeliner had smudged, but Cass’s hands and voice were steady when she ordered the next round.
Their eyes met in the mirror, and a subtle shift in posture turned the sidelong look into a challenge. Moore squared her shoulders and ordered another drink, snapping at the bartender when her glass wasn’t refilled fast enough. Cass dropped her gaze, laughing behind her hand.
Moore was a drink past decorum and two past caring. She turned on her stool to face Cass.
“You looking for a fight?” she demanded.
“Not with you,” Cass said. She wasn’t slurring, but her cheeks were almost as read as her hair.
Her tone set Moore’s teeth on edge. “I was in the Rangers,” she spat. “I hit you, you hit the ground.”
The redhead snorted. “Maybe five years ago. You’re past your prime, sister.”
Moore’s hands clenched at her sides, fisting in the pretty fabric of the useless dress. “I’m giving you one chance,” she said, her voice low and clipped, “you shut your mouth.”
“Fuck you, bitch,” Cass said. “If you were gonna hit me, you already would have.”
Moore didn’t hesitate. Her fist connected with the other woman’s face, and the entire bar heard something crack as Cass slipped backwards off her barstool. The look of utter shock on her face was so sweet that Moore smiled, despite herself.
“Bitch,” she said, and then she was surrounded by casino security.
She was very calm as they hauled her out of the bar and into the dimly lit offices. She was led through a dull, concrete maze and ushered into a nondescript office with stained wallpaper and discolored, water-damaged chairs. As soon as the door closed behind her, Moore realized that she’d left her purse sitting on the bar.
The Omertas kept her there for nearly an hour. She paced restlessly, and the movement cooled enough of her agitation to keep her hands at her sides when the floor manager finally found the time to deal with her.