[b]Beautiful?[/b]

[i]"I knew she was trouble from the moment she walked into my office. Claws still stained red and legs up to here. If you told me the galaxy had been murdered she'd have been my prime suspect - even if she didn't do it, she'd be worth doing it over. Almost made me wish I could just tip my hat and let her be - but the galaxy [b]had [/b]been murdered and I was on the case. On my day off too. Sure can pick 'em.

"In a way, we knew a lot about the murder. War had killed it but love had done it in. Means, motive - victim. All from the love god's mouth, and here she was, the dame at the centre of it all. I'd already been beaten to an inch of my life seconds after waking up by a gal who wanted to send me a message about sticking my nose where it didn't belong. But part of this job was seeing past the case to the next case. No point in patterns if you couldn't figure out who was next. And lookin' at her..."[/i]

A flare strikes in the darkness, the chemical burst of a matchstick. Soft and slender hands hold it up to a cigarette, the flare of red illuminating the face of an angel rather than a demon, heavy in fabric. Beautiful is dressed like Aphrodite but even more run down - battered suit, undone tie fedora, all two sizes too large for her. It hangs off her loosely, revealing her slender neck and collarbone, her delicate and bruised wrists, the glint of intelligence behind the black eye. There's an air of twisted eroticism to it, like a girl wearing her lover's clothes.

"Here's my advice, kids," Beautiful said from the depths of a prince's slouch. "Just because you see the jacks don't mean the game's over. Too many gamblers see a little luck, a little truth, a little ankle and lose their sense. Then before they know it they're bleeding out in an alley while the goons collect their winnings from the wine-dark earth."

It cannot be overstated how much fun Beautiful is clearly having with this moment. She can't keep the smile off her face as she clicks a switch on a cable's end and powers on a spotlight-streetlamp directly above her head. She straightens and then lurches, each swaying step carrying such a swish of loose suit around her that it's like the trails of a dancing dress. It's a dance that emphasizes pain and the capacity for pain, the instability that comes from knowing the truth, the intensity of being awake and free for once in her life and the determination to do everything possible with that moment before it passes. She has committed to the bit beyond the comprehension of mere mortals and the delight it has conjured in her renders her spellbinding.

"Now," she said. "You fine girls come in here with million dollar questions on your lips, but I've got one for you. What..." she ran fingers along Redana and Bella's shoulders at once, grinning as her clothes half fall off her. "is my name?"