[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/wUWTS6n.jpg[/img][/center] Valorie stared at the black card that Kurtz had given her, flipping it over and over in her hand as if she was expecting it to somehow transform or disappear like an illusionist’s trick. It was heavy for its size, made out of some kind of metal, and was engraved with the same fancy ivory font that said “B&W”. She had already checked it with an ATM, and was surprised to not only find her payment for the job available for withdrawal but an extra bonus of twenty grand thrown in there by Kurtz out of good measure. Sure, it wasn’t as fun as a briefcase full of money, but it certainly was more practical—and she had taken the opportunity at the ATM to pull out a nice stack of twenties. She put the card away into her new purse (designer, expensive as all hell) and walked out of the bathroom with her new heels clacking (also designer, expensive as all fucking hell. They were the first victims of what would become the mass spending streak of that she had set in motion. Kurtz had made it appear that all jobs would pay this well. In Valorie’s mind, that was code for “go absolutely nuts”. She had almost been killed by a psychopathic elf, herself, a corrupt cop, a bunch of ghosts, and a mannequin in less than a week. She earned a night of hedonism and frivolity. Already she had sent a picture to Cain, dressed to the nines in the black dress and a black—what was it called, a blazer? [i]Fancy shit,[/i] she thought— jacket as a fan of cash hid her mischevious smile and her bloodshot eyes but not the fact that she was subtly flipping him the bird. Kurtz had supplied it to her. The clothes, that is, not her middle finger or the joint that she had smoked afterwards. He thought it would be a bad idea to walk out of his office in bloody clothes. She was shocked by how well it all fit, although she couldn’t help but feel like a little girl playing dress up. Valorie may have thought herself to now be part of the nouveau riche, but she wasn’t about to go through one of those complete makeover nonsense. Still, she took the opportunity to play with Cain a little bit, and to give an excuse as to why she would probably not be in for the night. Her text read: [i]”Ahh, they turned me into a yuppie!” “Jokes. If I ever talk to you about the color of business cards then I give you permission to set me on fire.” “I am going to live out my life long dream of drinking champagne on some fancy hotel’s private VIP only rooftop and maybe trash a room. I’d invite you along but then they’d just” “Think that you’re a dirty old man and that I’m some kind of call girl, and I wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea about me. Laters!”[/i] Getting an idea, she took a few more photos and sent it to Cain, tagging it with a heart emote: [i]“So you don’t get lonely tonight, Francis.”[/i] And then she turned her phone off. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the dingy surroundings of the photo taken from within the women’s room of the Dirty Bath, the dive bar slash “Rat hole” that she had slept in only a few nights ago. Only today she was not here to escape from the effects of some drugs gone bad; she was here to buy some, and the person she was buying from was none other than her dear friend Quinn who she had been pushing off for almost an entire week. Truth be told, she was excited to see her for three reasons. One, Valorie honestly considered the woman to be both her best friend and somewhat of a bad-influence mentor during her time in the Rats. Two, Quinn always had access to the best shit there was. Three, meeting with Quinn violated Cain’s no drug rule and Kurtz’s no Rat rule: it was totally stupid, completely wrong, and absolutely thrilling. “Jeeezus, take your time princess,” said Quinn as Valorie rejoined her at the booth. “Yeah, yeah,” said Valorie, waving her hand dismissively. “No, no, it’s cool man. Not like you haven’t been snubbing me all week already,” said Quinn, folding her arms across her chest. “What’s another ten minutes.” “It was not ten minutes!” said Valorie with a huff. “Ten fucking minutes,” whispered Quinn, leaning her elbows against the table. The woman was, in Valorie’s opinion, disgustingly attractive. She was tall and lean like a supermodel, but without their emaciated skeletal appearance and unfairly blessed with all the right curves. Her skin was a smooth caramel and free of blemishes—a truly impressive feat, doubly so because the woman was perhaps the biggest junkie Valorie had ever met. Her hair was dyed blue with pink highlights and shaped into a lazy kind of mohawk, a sleeve of tattoos ran up her arm, and she somehow managed to make a body interlaced with piercings looks good. On a normal day Valorie looked sort of odd hanging next to her; today they could not appear to be farther apart, one looking like a businesswoman trying to hid the bruises from her nosy coworkers while the other dressed like a punk princess. “I’m worth the wait,” said Valorie smugly, before dropping the guise. “Sorry for being a shitty friend this week. Things were kind of crazy.” “I’d say,” said Quinn. “Looks like you went corporate. What, did the business venture with the Fifth Street Losers not pan out so well?” “You didn’t hear?” “Ehhhh,” Quinn shrugged. “I heard a lot of stuff. I wanna know the details. Is it true that bitch Tory got completely gutted by that grim reaper freak?” Valorie nodded. Quinn smacked the table and grabbed her beer. Her phone vibrated. “Serves her right. I fucking hated her. So, you ran away and just laid low for the past couple of days or what?” “Nah, I ditched them before any of that shit even happened,” said Valorie. “I ran into an old friend of mine and stayed with him for a while just in case anyone thought I was involved with that bullshit.” Quinn raised an eyebrow and made an interested noise. “Not like that,” lied Valorie. “Francis is old and a friend. He knew my dad from something and hooked me up with some intern position for some firm or whatever. He’s okay, but I couldn’t really do anything fun with him watching. Wouldn’t want daddy to find out something awful about his little girl.” “Yeah, like how she’s sending his friend nudes, or how she too stupid to make sure that she isn’t also accidentally sexting her friend as well. Holy shit jackpot,” said Quinn, turning her phone around so Valorie could see the other photos she had sent Cain (and, clearly, her friend). Valorie felt her buzz take a backseat as she turned red in the face and snatched at the phone. However, Quinn had already moved the mobile out of the way. “No way, I’m keeping these. Shit, your camera is quality.” She nodded approving as she kept swiping her phone. “When you said you wanted to get weird with me tonight I wasn’t really expecting this.” “Dude...” “Hmm. Have you considered waxing?” said Quinn, tilting her head inquisitively. “Dude.” “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It’s cute.” “Dude!” “Okay, okay, I’m done,” said Quinn, sipping her drink. “And they’re deleted.” “Don’t tell anyone about this,” said Valorie. “What? That you sent me nudes on accident, or that you’re screwing your dad’s old golfing buddy or whatever?” “Both. Let’s drop it, let’s drop it, okay?” asked Valorie. “It’s already weird enough as it is, let’s drop it.” “Okay, it’s dropped, it’s dropped,” said Quinn, pocketing her phone and then rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “So! What do you need? I was able to borrow a whole shitload of stuff; they know I’m good for it. You, er, do have cash right? I’d rather not get yelled at for skimming from the supplies again.” “Yeah. What you got,” she said, nodding to the backpack. “Look, I know this place is kind of a shit hole,” said Quinn, “but I still probably shouldn’t start listing off names or flashing this junk around. Never know who could be a snitch around here.” “Right,” said Valorie. “Oh, but it wasn’t a question. I’ll take what you got.” She was handing her friend something in the shadows beneath the table. Valorie watched as Quinn looked down, her mouth almost hitting the floor as she saw the wad of money. The woman quickly grabbed the stack of cash and shoved it into her leather jacket. “Holy shit, where did you get all of that?” asked Quinn. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Oh gross, you gold digging slut!” she said, playfully punching Valorie on her wounded shoulder. The necromancer winced and gave Quinn a pained look. It only reinforced her misconception. She laughed. “I did not know you had it in you. Wow. Way to go.” “You got it so goddamn—” Oh, fuck it, it wasn’t like her friend was going to be judging her; Quinn had already told Valorie about the time she had been a call girl. Several times, in fact. Now she kept herself mostly to camshows when she wasn’t nodding off in some dust dream. Besides, letting Quinn convince herself of where she had gotten the money was a lot easier than trying to craft her own lie, and there was no way in hell Valorie was going to tell her about her work for the firm. “—right. I believe you were the one who told me it’s stupid to give something away for free?” “Yeah, but I didn’t think you actually listened to me. Look, I gotta run this back to the big guy, okay? You know how Tony is. I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t go too hard before I get back here, okay?” asked Quinn. “Uh huh.” “For real, Vals. I’m not going to play babysitter, and if you start that biting shit again I will—” “I got it, man,” said Valorie. “I’ll be a good kid. Scout’s honor.” “Yeah, I don’t believe that.” Quinn downed her drink and got up from the booth; Valorie followed her up to her feet. The two hugged, and Valorie could smell the scent of the walking dead typical of a junkie on Quinn, lingering down below a masking of scented lotion and perfume. Valorie pulled away from her friend and gave her a forced smile, noticing for the first time the lifelessness behind her friend’s eyes. It was like looking into an empty being composed of nothing but a desire for drugs, sex, and alcohol. It was pitiful to see her friend wasting herself. Was this the kind of shit Cain felt? Did he also feel guilty and disgusting for pitying her like Valorie did for Quinn? She raised a hand to say bye as her friend pushed past the ogre bouncer, leaving her alone in the bar except for the elven bartender, an old couple in the corner, and a backpack full of drugs. She grabbed the bag and slipped into a private side room, leaving the door unlocked for Quinn whenever she came back. Maybe she could somehow get her friend clean, check her into a rehab or learn a spell that would force her to go sober. Quinn would need more than simple motivation to give up. Not like Valorie, who believed she could give up any minute as she unzipped the backpack of narcotics. [i]Tonight’s the last time and then I’m clean for good,[/i] she thought, dumping the contents of the bag out onto a table. There was enough junk in the bag to supply a small rave, minus the glow sticks and bad playlists, or make Hunter S. Thompson shit his pants in fear and excitement. A slow smile crept over her face as she gazed into the pile, her eyes vacant and lifeless. [i]It’s easy. Cold turkey. A clean break. I deserve a break.[/i] “I deserve a break,” she repeated aloud, as if it would reassure her guilt.