[hr][hr][h3][b][i][color=aba000][center]Cerise Baptiste[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
[center][b][color=aba000]Location: London, some dirty alleyway[/color][/b] 
[b][color=aba000]Interacting With: [@Dark Light] Clayton Radshaw [/color][/b][/center][hr][hr]

Cerise smiles. She knows never to pull punches with her feminine wiles. Her husband knew this, but his... mortal limitations limited his physical desire for Cerise. She overtly flashes her rather big wedding ring [color=aba000]"Thanks dear stranger. As for your drink suggestion, I hope it doesn't matter that I'm tied down. It's a complex situation, I'll leave it at that."[/color] She pulls out a pack of cigerettes and tries to stifle a chuckle (fag as a cigarette slang never gets old for her) and hands it to the bloody man. [color=aba000]"Want to head back to my hotel? Back in one of my homes across the pond an old... favorite of mine taught me some first aid, he was a boxer so he knew a thing or two about wound treatment."[/color] She asks knowing what this entails or implies. [color=aba000]"You're not employed are you because I know that a man like you might need to call in sick when we're done."[/color] She winks, realizing she is fishing for an answer. Thoughts of her sweetheart from college came to her head. She wondered what happened to him.