[b][h2][center]Paige Kennedy[/center][/h2][/b]

At first, he was pretty much what Paige expected as she accepted a second glass from the shaky-handed bartender. With everyone moving away, or in the process of being moved, the area become strangely empty in the midst of the party as a whole and would have been an object of curiosity to an outside observer. Her expression allowed for a very slight chuckle of amusement with him.

“I run into this situation a lot on the job,” She said. “You’re cornered and still alive, but think you’re a badass and you gotta be tough. I get it.” She said with a small nod of mock satisfaction and took a sip of her drink. Even under duress, the barman still did a fairly decent job of it. “Funny you should bring that up though, hookers and what not. I mean you’re a whore, right? You’ve got your rate to work the street.”

Then she had an odd feeling in her gut. Something about him seemed… [i]off[/i]. She’d been in the game long enough to see it and to [i]feel[/i] it: Nearly a decade, including three years as a Florida state police officer. It was the lip smack that did it, like he was trying just a little [i]too[/i] hard. She’d seen all manner of ill-reputes and the worst of their behavior, but something about that was just different, [i]unusual[/i]. Real criminals of his rank were seldom ever that blatant, particularly ones in his situation and the ones that were tended to have shorter lifespans. In that moment he seemed like a guy that just got off work at the foundry and was so tired that he was far beyond his regular level of give-a-damn for the day. Either that or he was just dumber than he looked in that silly suit. 

“See I work for Uncle Sam and you work for Aunt Margie, at least that’s what you and all your shitkicking buddies keep running around telling everyone.” She said. The poorly sewn on patch drew her glance for a moment. Stretched and frayed at the ends from riding on the shoulder of his suit all evening. The coarse fabric was never intended to be sewn and with the jacket being at least two sizes too small, it was barely hanging on. Her olive eyes moved slowly and deliberately, their characteristic, piercing gaze finally met his grimacing visage… and that was it, [i]the grimace[/i], [i]the giveaway[/i]. All white, all accounted for and perfectly straight. Normally being a low-rank street thug for a cartel didn’t carry a premier dental plan. The best most could hope for was to look like a veteran hockey player or a boxer, at least the ones that stayed away from the cigarettes or the harder stuff that just blasted the enamel away. Paired with her previous intuition, she was willing to bet her next paycheck that he was something other than what he was attempting to portray- [i]a thought she was going to put to the test directly[/i]. As was her custom, she looked him directly in the eyes, not showing the slightest hint of intimidation. Conversely, she was trying to restrain a tiny smirk. 

“It’s real funny because Margie takes such great care to keep her name out of the gutter,” She continued. “And yet here you all go spreading it around like vacuum salesmen,” She shrugged a little at the irony. “Makes my job a lot easier.”

[@SgtEasy]