[u]Cassidy Lynn Daniels[/u]

There are a great many types of games you can play. Chess, checkers, blackjack, poker...truly, Cassidy Lynn Daniels was only interested in playing one type of game: a skin game. 

 Cassidy Lynn sat alone, surveying the Club 76's patrons from behind her glasses. The only one she really recognized was Little Miss Whisper, who had built up quite the name for herself. Cass wasn't the sort to run around in gang circles-talented though those gangs might be-but she recognized the Vanguard's little ringleader. She was the quiet one. Demure. She had the presence of a leader-you could see it in the way everyone else glanced at her, as if for approval. People ordered food for her and gave it to her. Same for drinks. Presumably, they did the same thing with corpses when the Vanguards started to get bored. Cassidy didn't plan on staying in Mendel for very long-she'd do her tricks for a few weeks and ride off into the sunset, but there was a certain charm to this city. Not to stay in, never to stay in, but perhaps to extend her stay by a week or two. Two gangs, each on the brink of warfare? A whisper (pardon the pun) of a murder on the horizon? This city felt like the Cold War, and Cassidy wanted to be there when it went hot. She'd have a lovely little vantage point to see all the fireworks below. 

A little grin tugged at Cass' thin lips. Whisper? She was gonna put on one hell of a show. But she wasn't gonna make it out alive. Cassidy stuck to magic tricks, mostly, but she'd always mused about going into the psychic business. You had to have a touch of it to really sell an audience, regardless...and while there wasn't anything metahuman about her hunches, she had a good feeling that Whisper was either going to mosey out of Mendel or die in the gutters like a rabid dog. 

But she wasn't the only patron, was she? There was a boy floating around spare change ([i]Oh, this one's the fool. Never show your hand, love. [/i]) and another dressed almost half as fashionably as Cassidy was ([i]But the star sunglasses really are pushing it too far [/i]), both warring over a little dame sitting at the bar ([i]I think she lives near me....yes, she does. Same floor. [/i]) Mmm. Some insecure looking girl was passing something to Kiyoshi, and there were a few of Whisper's little lapdogs groveling around her. All in all, a pretty motley crew.

Oh, and the knuckle-dragger that followed Cassidy Lynn. She could hardly blame him. The Fox? Little Miss Trickster? THE Cassidy Lynn Daniels? Why, who wouldn't follow after her? Presumably seeking an autograph. Or, given the gaudy emblem splashed over his jacket, perhaps he was just after something a bit more primeval. 

Regardless, there were quite a few different types at the bar. 

Skin games were to be had. Cassidy Lynn stood up, took a brief moment to straighten her suit and casually strolled across the bar, which was really rather mellow. No boisterous types starting fights, no agonized screams of recently-bankrupted-gamblers watching a sports game play out. A few guys hitting on a [i]femme fatale[/i] and a hint of inner city violence. Cassidy Lynn saw a powderkeg in a coal mine in the Club 76, and she was itching for a smoke.

She reached the bar with a dazzling smile stretched across her face, the light scar on her face barely visible in the dim light of the bar. "Barkeep," Cassidy purred as she drew out three hundred dollars in cash, placing it on the bar. "Could I please have something delicious from your top shelf, two glasses, and a spoon?" She batted her eyelashes, purple eyeshadow against dark mascara. "Pretty please?"

Her request, shall we say, was quickly met. Carrying the bottle of champagne in one hand and the glasses in the other, she strolled with perfect grace across the bar and sat across from Titus MacArthur at his table, a soft little smirk on her face as she poured him a glass and slid it to him, pouring herself an ample amount before taking a delicious swig straight from the bottle. She placed it on the right side of the table, positioning it just so. Behind her a little ways sat Whisper and her cronies. In front of her about twenty feet or so was the trio of young'uns trying to jump into each others' pants. And in the center, the very center, sat Cassidy with the unfortunate result of an elephant mating with a steroid-addled human. Cassidy drew out a deck of cards and shuffled them casually, her fingers performing the task with such innate ease, one would perhaps question if she was actually born doing it. She slapped the two perfectly even halves of cards on the table and with surgical precision, used her well-filed nails to draw out a business card from within her coat. "I didn't catch your name," Cassidy drawled, placing the business card face down on the tops of the decks. She reached over to the bottle of champagne and pulled it close to her mouth. Her tongue pressed against her cheek and she fumbled around within her mouth for a moment, jaw moving as her tongue probed some hidden cavity within her teeth. She opened up, holding a wedding ring inbetween her pearly whites and somehow managing to smile as she did so. She let the ring fall into the bottle of champagne where it promptly sunk to the bottom. "But I think we should have a little fun tonight. That's Jack Frost's wedding ring at the bottom of this delicious bottle. Covered in all sorts of murderous, murderous fingerprints. And I've got," She pulled out Jenna's business card, "The contacts of a lovely little PI over there. Did you know she was Jackie's little fling on the side? His wife," Cassidy nodded at the bottle with her head, "Had no idea. And she was right there when it went down. Saw it all happen. And with her little lover wasted like a Thursday night sorority girl, well, she'd be awful happy to see a young bull like you come a-knockin' at the door." Cassidy, with one hand, shuffled the cards, "But the thing is, she's skipping town on account of this whole mess. She's over there talking to Whisper for protection. You've got an hour to call her private line," Cass flipped the business card over to reveal a phone number scrawled across the back, hastily etched. Before Titus could read it properly, she flipped it back over and laid it on top of one of the halves. She slipped the other over it and, with one hand, deftly shuffled out the cards, slapping six cards face down. "Six cards. So what I wanna see is this. Do you want to drink this entire bottle of champagne and get some hard evidence of who eighty-sixed your friend," Cassidy tapped the bottom of the bottle with a nail and the ring shifted slightly. "Of course, I count six Vanguards in here. And they may not be as friendly as me if you got all drunk and defenseless." Cassidy tapped the table next to the six cards resting on the table, "Or...do you want the business card. I'll give ya three tries. Fifty fifty chance. Either way," Cassidy said, drawing back in her seat, a comfortable distance (one that was out of Titus' arms' reach, most importantly) from him, "Cheers." Cass lifted her glass and took a deep sip, watching Titus with anticipation. 

See, when you're a performer, you get a knack for who's smart enough to figure out your tricks and who's not. Just by sizing somebody up. And Cassidy knew very, very well that Titus wasn't falling into that first camp. He'd smash the bottle or try and grab all the cards or something similar. Or maybe he'd play along. Maybe Whisper and friends would take the bait and get involved. Either way, she was going to enjoy her night. The spoon rested on the table, forgotten amongst all the other lovely little toys Cassidy wanted to play with. Oooooh was she going to enjoy it. Little games like this. They say variety's the spice of life.

"Oh," Cassidy said off-handedly, as if she'd suddenly remembered, "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Joanna Lee. But you can just call me whatever you feel like. Now, let's have some fun."

Skin games. Skin games were the only kind worth playing.