Red Nightmares at Midnight

The weeks passed. Dante continued to do what he did best, eviscerate the demon spawn of hell with righteous prejudice. To his knowledge, Douglass continued her training diligently; their paths crossed in the kitchen between meals and on the occasions she accompanied him on his missions. He just left her to her training; he’d told her wasn’t the best teacher and the best way she could learn from him was to emulate his actions. But having another sentient being around the compound began to naggingly remind him that there was life outside of hunting. He’d just forgotten about it. He’d actually wanted to forget about it. But with more and more interaction with the human world as the demon activity picked up, he realized just what he’d been missing. Every thought along those lines made a knife rake across his memory. God, he missed Jayden! They used to do things together, such as attend the symphony and theatre, Jayden and Lucas had loved the music and had gradually won him over. The skiing trips, the cruises, the human things he’d done had been long forgotten in his misery and pain. All had become focused on his job, his birthright inheritance. But sitting around moping wasn’t helping him anymore. He just supposed he was getting twitchy, he thought grouchily, returning from a trip into the city to once more shake Harris’s teeth about payment. He’d stopped off for kitchen supplies and some other stuff for the place as well, ladening his arms with packages and parcels. God, he needed to get a butler! Or something. But Lucille chattered happily all the while; apparently she missed him during his little overnight stint slaughtering the denizens of hell. He’d come home pissed, slept for three hours till daylight, then went back and beat the shit outta Harris until payment was delivered. But he’d taken care of a few other little chores as well. Whistling off-key through his teeth, he deposited the groceries in their appropriate places and stopped off to put a large white box on the dresser in Douglass’s room. Snerking quietly to himself, he just shook his head as he meandered to his study. Consider it a peace offering, he thought with a wicked grin. For what lay in the box had cost him a small fortune. But he didn’t mind; he had enough money to survive for a few centuries. His skills weren’t cheap. Within that box lay a rather lovely evening gown, satin and velvet, quite delicate yet elegant and sleek. Deep sapphire blue, almost black, the dress was ankle length, although split high on the right side. Thin straps on the shoulders, a deep v neckline and sheath in style, studded with tiny diamonds. It would show her tattoos in all aspects, which was why he’d chosen it. Modest heels were in the bottom of the box, with ankle straps for the black suede. Atop the fabric lay a single strip of thick paper; a ticket for dinner at the most expensive opera in town, two nights hence. Box seats, Dante never settled for less than the best. Whether she opted to join him was her choice; he was going nonetheless. He hadn’t spent over a thousand bucks a ticket to just stay home.




Douglass : Training diligently; that was an understatement. She beat the shit out of herself every day, and every night. Opting to work out at least two times a day, sometimes even four when Dante left her alone, she'd been hammering away at the poorly sharpened contours of her body. Strengths were slowly becoming stronger, and weaknesses were dissipating; she could feel the difference, and could see it. The six pack of her stomach muscles had only appeared when being used before, now she'd wake to them peeking at her. Arms became increasingly toned, as did legs. She was getting faster, that was the impressive part; reflexes honed ever so much closer to instants; damn how good she felt. All this time, however, had left her in the dark; she wasn't seeing much of the sun anymore. Early morning meant ten mile runs into the ravine, the rocky surfaces provided enough variations to keep her entertained. The lack of sunlight, though, was taking its toll; her nicely bronzed skin was fading to shades of a lesser cream, and the sun-bleached locks of blonde were becoming darker, more of a golden color; even though it was strange, she had to admit it didn't look bad. So her days went, working out and fighting demons on occasion; for the most part, while on the hunt she'd stand back a bit, watch Dante and all that he did, as well as the demons and all that they did. A nice little bank of info on demon fighting was beginning to form, and she liked having it on reserve. Dante had been gone, where he went she didn't know; and she never asked, that was his business. He'd come back sometime while she'd be downstairs, muscles ached and screamed for reprieve, but she forced them none the less to take the stairs. Glancing once again at his closed door, a sight she was well used to now, she turned and took the ever so familiar trek to her own room. Upon entering she didn't even notice the box, the shower called to her more loudly. Habit was the name of the game she'd been playing; she was becoming very meticulous at that. Towel wrapped around her dripping body, she went into her room, it was looking more and more like her pad everyday. Cloths lay in a pile just inside the closet door; bed was hardly ever made, except when Douglass was tired of Lucille harping at her about it. God, Lucille could be a real pain in the butt now; but Dee would miss her if she was ever gone. Through the training they had developed a friendship, a connection between females; knowing that Lucille was simply animatronics helped ease Douglass's mind, and so slowly the quirky machine was becoming her confidant. Toweling dry wet hair, Douglass's eye finally fell upon the satchel left by her other living house mate; what the fuck? Eyes moved back and forth, quickly checking to make sure he wasn't in the room. Approaching with caution, she was unsure what to make of it; he'd never left anything in her room before. "I guess he does come in here; Lucille do you know what this is?" "Negative, Dante left it there for you upon his return from the city." Sucking in a deep breath she lifted the lid; and the wind was knocked out of her. She'd never seen anything like it in her entire life; she was almost scared that she'd rip it. The last time she'd worn a dress was when she was eight and had family portraits done; but Jesus Christ the thing was amazing. "Oh my fucking God, are those stones on here? "I'll be damned," she didn't know what to say; or what to do. But her stomach knew, and it growled at her because of it. "Yeah," she slipped the dress back into the box, dressed quickly in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top and went to the kitchen. He'd gotten groceries again, she should consider cooking some night soon; but not tonight. Selecting some carrots and a healthy glob of peanut butter she ate quickly, washing it all down with a glass of milk before going back to her room. She couldn't get the damned dress out of her mind, holding it in front of her in the mirror, she tried to imagine what she might look like in it; "Only down side is I'd need to fix my hair." Needless to say she kept herself entertained for a long hour, debating over what to do. It was too much, she knew it was; she wanted to give it back to him, or reimburse him for it, but at the same time she didn't want to seem ungrateful; what to do what to do. Dealing with Dante was like dealing with chemicals of war, you had to be careful or else they'd explode all over you. Finally she decided, the ticket was dated for two days later yet, giving her time. She wouldn't say anything about it; just go along business as usual; She'd take the day of off, get up early, like at eight am or so, and head to town; pick up all that she needed and be back with a few hours to prepare. Geesh, she wasn't looking forward to the prep work, that was for sure. But it wasn't everyday that she attended the Opera, in fact, she'd never attended an Opera.




Dante strolled into the kitchen from his study; reading small print on a monitor screen got old quick. But his need for snacks drove him out, he snagged an apple and water jug from the fridge and idly wondered if Douglass had returned from below yet. He’d not thought to check the monitors before leaving the study. So he meandered down the hall, a bit surprised to see the gleam of light from her designated room. Pausing at the door, he propped an arm on the door frame, idly lounging while she admired herself in the mirror, dress held in front of her. He couldn’t help but grin. “Think it’ll fit?” he drawled, biting a chunk out of his apple. “I know it’s long enough, but wasn’t sure about the bustline. Never been good at buying women’s clothes, but the lady at the place read descriptions pretty well.”




Douglass : Fuck, she was busted. "You'd know better than me, I've never worn one of these things before in my life." Turning to look at him, she made a slight motion with her head, "You can come in if you like." Going to her closet, she pulled a soft hanger and placed the dress upon it, letting the delicate fabrics hang well above the pile of clothing. "I really don't know what to say Dante." "You could say thank you," Lucille chimed in. "Right Lucy," she rolled her eyes at the machines timing, "Thank you Dante."




Dante smirked at Lucille’s well timed sarcasm. He hadn’t paid all he did for that mainframe for nothing. But he shrugged, sauntering inside and plopping down on the unmade bed. Crossing ankles, clad in usual home attire, jeans being it, he crunched his apple and gestured to the bathroom. “Try it on, let me see if I need to take it back for alterations in the morning. Wouldn’t do to have it falling off you in the wrong place, Douglass,” he said with a naughty wink.




Douglass : "Actually," she dreaded saying it, "If you don't mind I'd rather wait. Silly I know, but still. Besides, I think you did well, from what the tag says it should fit just fine." She moved into the bathroom, avoiding eye contact for the moment. Peering into the mirror, she wasn't surprised to see a light blush on her cheeks, it wasn't often anyone caught her acting like a girl. Grabbing a comb, she ran it through her hair, pulling loose all the knots and tangles. "I owe you, I really do."




Sensing she wasn’t too comfortable with his invasion of her space, Dante merely shrugged and got to his feet. “As you like.” Heading for the door, he said over his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. Money’s not an issue. I’ve got more than I know what to do with. A good feeling, actually,” he commented with a grin. But cerulean eyes turned somber for a moment. “Douglass, it’s all right to admit you’re human. Even I know that.” So saying, he disappeared from the room, padding barefoot back to his study.




Douglass : "Yeah I know," she said quietly. Eyes averted to the sink, watching the rim of the steel colored plug reflect light. She couldn't look at herself just now. His presence didn't bother her; it was simply the circumstances into which he'd walked in. Turning from the bathroom she went to the door, peering down the hall just in time to see him disappear back into his study. She had money too, it had belonged to the ATT, and since she was really the only surviving member, it all fell to her. What an inheritance; lose everything but gain money; that fact kept her from touching it. Just as she had planned, her alarm clock went off at eight am, rising with sleepy eyes, she quickly showered and dressed, God knew she needed the time. Opting to take the Durango, she hustled to town; stopping off at her pad first and foremost. It hadn't changed, looked exactly the same as how she left it. Going straight to the bathroom she grabbed several odds and ends; even though she never used them, she had all the necessary tools to create a hair-do; in addition she also grabbed a bag of makeup. She didn't care for the stuff much, but tonight she was planning on going all out. Now it was time to head to a store she'd never stepped foot in her life; Victoria’s Secret. Pulling the Durango into the parking lot, she gulped before entering the store. All the woman inside stopped and looked at her, and immediately she wanted to run. No, you have to do this Dee; pull it together. She looked like a rag-tag; hair pulled into a sloppy pony-tail, Wearing loose fitting pants and her usual tank top. "May I help you Ma'am?" The sales lady seemed uncertain, but Douglass managed a smile. "Yeah, I need some help finding undergarments for a rather uncharacteristic dress." "Well Ma'am you've come to the right place, if you'll step over here with me, I'll be happy to help you." Douglass sighed with relief, thank God. The other women went back to their business, shoppers shopped and clerks attended the customers. "So Ma'am, what is it that you need?" Douglass explained the dress to the woman, and she nodded, knowing immediately what Dee was in need of. "Well first of all, under a dress like that its best not to wear underwear at all, even a g-string will show under fabric like that." Wonderful. "And these will be your best option for support, they adhere to the skin, so you don't have any straps to worry about." Douglass thanked her after making her purchase and leaving. It'd only taken a half an hour, that was awesome. Only one more stop before heading back, and that took even less time. Before heading out of town, however, she stopped at a quaint little café, dining alone she began to get excited about the up coming evening. Now she just had work ahead of her. By the time she got back, it was four in the afternoon. Taking her parcels into her room, she locked the door behind her, immediately starting to prep for the night ahead, three hours later she would emerge.




Dante stared into his closet. As much as he liked the opera, he despised the frills that went with such formality on an equal basis. But he had to admit the tailored suit fit him well. Italian fabric, tailored for his broad shoulders and lean waist and hips, the pants well long enough to accommodate his height. The cook silk lining felt blessedly heavenly against his skin, he’d forgotten the sensation. Foregoing the shirt and vest until finished in the bathroom, he shaved and actually combed his hair, once more Lucille made a smart remark and he retaliated by splashing aftershave on her voice vents. “Meddlesome female,” he muttered, giving the ceiling a scathing look. “Well, Dante, why are you embarking on this outing with Douglass?” she asked. Dante rolled his eyes. “Because I’m tired of sitting my ass at home, Lucille, you nosy heifer. I have money, why not spend it? You know I like the opera and don’t give me shit about the last decade, all right?” Lucille was quiet for a moment, then responded quietly. “Very well, Dante. Your behavior just struck me as odd.” He sighed, wiping his face clean of shaving foam. “Yeah, don’t it.” Tossing the towel on the counter, he leaned on it, staring at his familiar face in the mirror. “I’m not getting any younger, Lucille,” he said quietly, “and I still miss Jayden. Just saying her name hurts. But I can’t just sit here and mope anymore.” Lucille picked up the traces of sorrow in his voice. She subliminally knew Dante was just fooling himself, but she kept her opinion to herself. He would realize he had to let go soon enough. But enough, he was running short of time. He knew he’d probably be late, stylishly so, but still. Sliding the silk shirt over his head, the soft white shirt followed. He’d be damned if he wear a tie, the collar was extremely simple and tailor made for the suit. Shoes and wallet in back pocket, coat over his shoulder and he was out the door, whistling betwixt his teeth. Soft platinum fell over his forehead; he’d known it would be futile to comb the strands. But he knew he looked good. Dante was just that comfortable in his own skin to know so. Not conceit; mere fact. But he spied Douglass’s door closed; he figured she was either primping or getting ready to strangle him with a hair-dryer cord. Hn, women. But he had to grin; most of what she was forced to endure would be a first time thing. Oh well, she’d accepted it. So he plopped down in an easy chair in the living room, foot propped on his knee to wait.




Douglass : It had been time well spent, the dress fit like a dream, and with her newly acquired brazier, it accented well all her features. The shoes gave new shape to her legs, making them seem sleek; she felt fortunate, the slit was perfectly placed, it wouldn't show the bottom part of her scar, if it would have, she would have refused to wear it. Same was the case of the back, so perfectly the hem line fell, no matter how she moved it wouldn't reveal her secrets beneath; good shopping Dante. However, dressing was the easy part; the real work had come from the neck up. Hair was a nightmare, no wonder she didn't deal with it often. An hour and forty-five minutes; it'd taken her that long to get it all up and curled. But she had to admit, the finished product was worth the effort. It had all been pulled up in sections, each criss-crossing over the other; then all the loose strands were pulled into tight ringlets; they billowed down, a select few grazing her shoulders at each side, then four separate ones resting easily against the bottom of her neck. Small sprigs of Baby's Breath flowers were inserted here and there, giving extra texture to the blonde ringlets. Makeup never did anything for her, and to apply any kind of foundation would discolor her tattoos. A simple brushing of a dusty gray eye shadow on the upper lids highlighted hazel eyes. A gentle pink lipstick added slight color to her full lips, topping with a gloss gave the illusion of a sultry pout. Lastly mascara accentuated already long lashes. Accessorizing with long, dangling earrings of diamond stones, and a slender chain with a single diamond pendant, she admired the whole of her work. "What do you think Lucille? Don't clean up too bad do I?" “You look stunning Douglass; Dante is waiting for you." "Alright," picking up her ticket and a small parcel from the dresser top, she decided not to take anything else, besides she didn't carry a purse and if she did, chances were she wouldn't have one to match. Stopping at the nightstand, she picked up a small bottle of perfume she'd brought back with her, it was a subtle smell, a mixture of vanilla, roses and lavender, applying it sparingly to her neck and down into her cleavage she was ready. Unlocking her door, Lucille chimed in one last time, "he's waiting in the parlor." Her legs seemed longer, thanks to the heels, and the slit gave seductive glances at her right leg. Stopping in the doorway she stood, hand folded neatly in front of her; "Well?" If not for her tattoos, she'd look like a lady; the dress accentuating her hips and bust, well defining an hourglass figure; the shade of the dress caused the blue in her hazel eyes to pop, and the dusty gray eye shadow drew attention to the bright and shining visuals.




Dante heard the door open and slowly got to his feet, shrugging on his coat and meandering into the hall just as Douglass appeared in the living room. Arched brows rose in slow surprise as she entered, amazed to see what subtle differences a dress, about a gallon of hair spray and accessories could make. Giving her the male once over, he figured he owed her that, he nodded. “Very nice, Miss McQue,” he told her, a genuine smile, for once, curving his lips. “Seems there is a female beneath all that hardware,” he teased with a soft chuckle. But senses picked up on her nervousness and he tilted his head a bit in query. “Nervous? Don’t be; it’ll be all right, trust me.” And it would, for unbeknownst to her or anyone else they’d encounter during the evening, the black hand-cannon known affectionately as Ebony was riding along his ribs, settling comfy in her shoulder holster beneath his jacket.




Douglass : She couldn't help but smile; normally she'd want to punch his teeth in for a comment like that; the comment about the hardware, but not tonight. While out, she made the conscious decision not to let anything bother her; she hadn't had a day off in ten years, and she wasn't about to let little pissy stuff ruin it. Giving him a once over as well, she had to say, for the fist time since meeting him she was actually impressed. If not for his words he could pass as a gentlemen; "You don't clean up too bad either." Flashing him a smile to die for she took a few steps into the room, fingers turning the parcel in her hands. "I'm just not used to going anywhere with so little, as I'm sure you know, I always have a gun on me." She looked down at her fingers, feeling the sheepish blush of a young woman creeping into her cheeks; damn she hated being a girl sometimes. "I, uhh, picked this up for you today." Holding the parcel out to him, ends of slender fingers gripping the edge tottery, "A small token of thanks." Again the pink dared to brush her cheeks, but she managed to fight it back with yet another sexy smile; the feeling the dress gave to her was mirrored in her actions, she felt sleek, sexy, and ready for just about anything that didn't involve physical activity; she still felt like she might tear the dress if she tried to move too much.




If he’d have been anything of a lesser man, he’d have lost his footing to her…what was that, a compliment? But he merely smirked back at her, chuckling softly. “I’ll say thanks and avoid any other argument for the night. “ But a brow quirked to her gun comment and he silently lifted the right jacket lapel, revealing the shoulder holster and loaded gun. “I don’t go anywhere unarmed either. Professional habit,” he shrugged. But once more, he eyed her, saying speculatively, “Hm, I doubt you’d get a knife holster under that dress, but I suppose you could try.” He chuckled quietly. “Be interesting to see how you’d draw it.” He looked a bit puzzled to her maidenly blush and, with a bit of wonder, took the small box from her hand, examining it much as she had been rotating it. “You don’t owe me anything, Douglass,” he assured her with a quiet smile, but held up the box, “but I appreciate the gesture.” Opening it gingerly, as not to shred the small cardboard, eyes lightening to aqua at seeing the small flower nestled inside. The rose was heart’s blood red, the green leaves and small sprigs of baby’s breath offsetting the crimson drenched petals perfectly. A smile, a true genuine human smile painted his lips as he lifted it out. “Douglass, it’s beautiful,” he said sincerely. “Truly.” Carefully pinning it to his jacket, taking care to get the boutonnière straight, he adjusted the lapel and grinned again. “Perfect, ne?” A chuckle. But he shook his head with another small laugh. “Well, dinner reservations are for eight, shall we go?” Turning gallantly, with a cocky grin he offered his arm to escort her into the lift. “Be brave, Douglass.”




Douglass : She smiled at his retaliation to her comment, she really wasn't one to give compliments; "Believe me Dante, you look good." Fingers laced within one another as he opened the box, unsure of how he'd react. It was as though she were going on a date, only it really wasn't. Now that she thought about it, she'd never actually been on a date before; she hadn't gone to high school, nor to college. Her social interactions were limited to who she worked with, so there was never any question as to whom she'd dine or ride with. "I'm glad you like it; I thought you might." Slipping fingers into the crook of his arm, she turned to walk along side; her normal strides were cut short by the dress, and the heels made her feel a tad wobbly, but she'd adjust in due time; "We should get going then." As tall as he was, if she stood too close he'd be able to see straight down the front of her dress, and suddenly she was kind of glad for the help of the clerk today. A pleasant musk graced her nostrils as she breathed, causing her to inhale slightly more deeply; the smell was pleasant, and she had to admit that even if this was the end of the evening, she would have enjoyed it just fine.




Dante just opened the cage doors and allowed her to precede him inside; Lucille delivered them to the garage floor. Deciding quite against taking motorcycles for this little jaunt, he fished out the GTO’s keys and opened the door for her without comment. Closing it behind her, he crossed to the driver’s side, starting the car and maneuvering atop the auto lift. Once more, Lucille lifted them upwards and Dante set the security settings once more before easing the massive beast out of the hangar and, due to the slight dust and wind, kicked on the AC inside. It would take him all of ten minutes to drive the twenty into the city limits, and from there to the opera house and dinner. The show was rather popular; he’d acquired VIP seats in the balcony, where they would eat while the show went on and he informed her of this as they drove. “I haven’t been in about ten years or so,” Dante admitted ruefully. “Work kept me pretty busy and I guess I just lost the incentive, more or less.” He shrugged a shoulder. “But it’s nice to get out and about.” Although his heart ached something terrible; he missed Jayden. But that was a tale for another time. He knew Douglass had never indulged in an outing of this caliber, and despite what she might think of him, he did want her to enjoy it.




Douglass : She nodded as he spoke, sure that there was more than work keeping him away for so long; but as she always did, she didn't ask; it was his business. Eyes flicked around, admiring the interior of the car; she had to admit it, Dante had exceptional taste. "I haven't had a day off in ten years," she turned eyes to look at him, "I'll be on my best behavior, I promise." She winked playfully, "But that might get me in even more trouble." Chuckling softly she averted eyes away from him, he was dangerously attractive in the dim lights of the cars dash and the reflection from the headlights; before tonight she'd never really looked at him, never really saw him as a man. He'd been a foe, a coworker, and tonight just maybe he'd become a friend.




He gave her a teasing glance and laughed to her trouble comment. “Yeah, most females I’ve known are more than they’re worth. Most of ‘em try to kill me,” he told her with a return wink and a grin. “Eh, but it’s all right. That happens when you’re good at what you do, I reckon.” Inane small talk had never been his forte, he realized he needed to work on it. Terse orders, that was his strength. Oh well, Douglass was nervous enough for the both of them; he could feel it radiating from the woman in tsunami waves. But he felt he needed something of a serious comment, and he gave her one, speaking quietly in the silence as the road flew beneath the purring car, “You really do look lovely, Douglass. And I’m not saying it just because I’m a smooth bastard,” he reiterated. “But because it’s simple truth.”




Douglass : Damnit Dante, as if things weren't bad enough. "Thanks," the word was quite and sheepish; she didn't know how to give a compliment, and she didn't know how to take one either. Words had never helped her any, and if it could be helped she'd rather not use them at all. Actions spoke louder than words anyway, and she'd found that it had been her own truth as well. Fingers traced the edge of her ticket lightly, the only item she had to tinker with. God she wished she had a gun with her; knowing Dante had one only deepened her need for one. However his words rang true, where in the hell would she have kept it?




Watching her fidget from the corner of his eye, Dante sighed a bit and returned to his driving, finally having to slow down to normal speed once entering the city limits. Maneuvering his way downtown to the large opera house, he purred the car to the door, the valet opening the passenger side and holding a hand to help the lady from her seat. Dante exited the driver’s side, tossing the lad the keys and turned to escort Douglass once more down the carpet to the door. The doorman inclined his head politely, taking their tickets and opened the double doors, allowing them entrance. A young pretty woman smiled as they entered and ushered them upstairs to their private box. The waiter, a young lad by name of Ron, gracefully seated Douglass and handed both a gilded menu. “Would you care for wine while you decide?” he asked Dante politely. The hunter nodded absently. “Zinfandel, something white,” he responded, reading calmly. Their box was high above the main floor, nestled in the corner. The table was elegance, white cloth with fine black and white china pattern dishes. Taper candles burned softly in their braziers, the other dimly glowing lights on the wall behind them. The chairs were deep and comfortable, for easy resting after dinner and during the show. Nodding, Ron turned to Douglass. “And you, ma’am?”




Douglass : "Same please," she said quietly with a smile; remembering her manners. The waiter nodded, "Very good madam," and with that went to fetch the drinks. Picking up the menu, she opened it carefully, scanning the pages with ease. Butterflies did flips and tumbles in her stomach, and honestly she wasn't feeling much like dinner; any sign of an appetite had left somewhere in the last few minutes. "Any suggestions?"




“Hm…” Dante tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “The lobster looks good. Been a while since I had any seafood. But red wine goes with that,” he amended. But shrugged. “Oh well. The fried spinach appetizers, the breadsticks, shrimp, hm. And I would be starving, too,” he groaned ruefully. “But I think I’ll stick with the lobster and pasta.” He nodded and put down the menu, leaning back in his chair comfortably as the waiter returned with the drinks. “Here you go, sir, madam. Enjoy.” Dante picked up his crystal and took a much relished swallow. After placing his order for appetizers and main course, plus a bottle of red wine, he sat back and waited for Douglass.




Douglass : Eyes flashed over the menu quickly; lobster had never sat well with her. It wasn't bad, just not one of her favorite dishes. "I think I shall have the Chicken Cordon Bleu, with steamed vegetables and angel hair pasta; please." She handed the waiter her menu with a smile, slipping her napkin from the table to her lap. "Wonderful selections, I shall return shortly with your appetizers sir." He gave a slight bow and exited, leaving the two alone in the box. Douglass's eyes unintentionally wandered out, taking in the scene before it would be lit alive with music. A strange little smirk crossed her lips, the place was overwhelming. Eyes moved down the large lush curtains to the crowd forming below; funny how her mind worked, she immediately thought that this place would make a good stake out spot; you could see everyone beneath you, but they couldn't see you. She shook her head, Stop it Douglass, enjoy the night. Forcing herself to look away, glowing hazel eyes fell back to Dante, her mind strained for words, but couldn't formulate any that seemed to fit right now. The corners of her mouth turned down slightly, and she shook her head slowly, curls gently brushing her shoulder; "I'm sorry, I've never been very good with conversation."




Dante merely sipped his wine, a delicacy he didn’t bother with at home. “Why be sorry? I’m not good at it either, as you’ve undoubtedly noticed. Small talk’s never been a strength of mine.” Leaning back once more, he slid away from the table a bit and propped a foot on his knee, arms laced over his stomach. Ah, comfort away from home. He couldn’t resist a grin. “It’s nice having money.” But he mockingly frowned. “Cause bullets get damned expensive.”




Douglass : "That they do," taking a long sip of the wine, she was actually quite surprised at the taste. "Not bad," luxury items were something she certainly wasn't used to; as was alcohol. "I'm not very good with conversation at all; small or other;" hands fell to her lap, she folded them neatly letting them rest comfortably on her left thigh. "I don't ever intend to offend, but somehow I always manage to. Guess I should have paid more attention in speech class." Sarcasm was her friend, if not for it, likely she'd never speak. Ankles had been crossed from the moment she'd fist been seated. Slowly the butterflies in her stomach were settling back, but they would still flit and flutter each time she thought someone might be coming to their door.




“There’s a first time for everything, Douglass,” he intoned with a small smile. Silence fell, neither knowing quite what to say; words had next to never been easy between the two. But dinner was brought forthwith, for a thousand bucks a sitting, they better have exceptional service. After plates were settled, the lights dimmed and the show got underway. Dante, attention passing back and forth between the show and the rather exquisite lobster and wine, just felt himself drifting into a dangerous total relaxation. But he figured he was due, damnit.




Douglass : Thank God for outside intervention, if it wouldn't have been for the waiter bringing the food, things would have gotten even more uneasy. Thanking the waiter with a sultry smile, she used her utensils as she'd been taught, carefully tasting each item before deciding that it was quite possibly the best food she'd ever tasted. As the lights dimmed, she couldn't keep her attention away from the show. Food sat, unfinished as the performers danced across the stage; she was mesmerized. Eyes were soft as they observed the performance, and her heart would start beating quickly as the singers hit the long, powerful notes so well known of Opera. The corners of her mouth upturned within the first few minutes, and never fell.




Dante couldn’t help but eat; damnations he was starving! And the meal was meltingly delicious, but the music called to the human soul beneath his breast as well and he finally fell victim to the haunting melodies and drama. Both sat motionless for the first hour and a half, then the performers twirled offstage and the lights came back up, signaling intermission. He gave Douglass a look, amused at seeing the raptured wonder across the woman’s face. “Douglass, you all right?”




Douglass : A deep breath exasperated from her breast, chest heaved up quietly as she sucked wind; she hadn't noticed she'd been holding her breath there at the end. "I'm fine," eyes blinked rapidly, waking herself from her hypnotic state. Pushing back the chair, she stood, a single hand laying flat against her middle, "Excuse me." Smiling quaintly she exited, holy shit did she need to pee. "Excuse me, where might I find a restroom?" The attendant stopped for a moment, nodding greetings to her, "Down the hall and to the left madam, but I warn you, it will be quite busy." "Thank you," she offered yet another smile, sheesh she should start charging as much smiling as she'd been doing tonight. That thought only caused a true smile to pass her full lips. Walking quickly down the hall, she found the latrine. Pushing through the elegant door, she wasn't all that surprised to see it packed full of other women, and they all took notice of her immediately. Unease quickly took hold, but she wouldn't show fear, that would only feed them. Head held high, she smiled seductively at all of them, passing through those who had only come to primp, and found an empty stall. Taking care of natures call proved to be slightly more difficult in the dress, but somehow she managed. Exiting, she refused to make eye contact with any of them, though all were staring at her. The sound of whispers picked up behind her, and she glanced in the mirror to see two women pointing and laughing; most likely at her tattoos. A wicked thought entered her mind, quickly washing her hands she went to where a young lady sat, giving towels to those who needed them. She nodded to the girl, who offered a polite smile in return. Crossing the crowded room to where the two women stood, she spoke, "Pardon moi," immediately she began to spout off in French, what she was saying only known to her and one other woman who happened to laugh aloud. "I'm sorry but I don't speak French," one of them responded. "No?" she spouted off again, this time using Greek, again looks of confusion from the two ladies; a third time in an African language; a fourth in Italian; a fifth in Portuguese; finally Douglass smiled, "Oh, then perhaps you speak English, then I must put this in a way that you'd understand. I'd suggest not commenting, especially when you've had more work done than a restored 57 Chevy. Was that English enough for you?" Turning on heel she couldn't hide the devilish smirk, and the woman who'd understood French stopped her at the door; "You were too kind to them, you should have given them an exact translation." "Pity for the poor ignorant fools." With that Douglass made her final exit, striding down the hall with utter confidence. The women brooded, completely taken off guard and utterly offended by the miscreant. The broke through the latrine door, and made it to the end of the hall just in time to see Douglass disappear inside the private box; "Must be one expensive whore," bitterness in a woman? What else was new?




Dante merely remained at the table, nodding to the waiter as the boy took the used dishes and freshened water glasses. He pondered dessert, but all that sugar would have him climbing the walls in about two hours; the man possessed the metabolism of a hyper rabbit. Thanks to demon blood, he thought with a grinned snort. But the red wine was sweet to his tongue, smooth and with just enough bite to be pleasant. Of its own volition, his mind wandered back to the last time he’d been here. Twelve years ago, with Jayden. He sobered a tad, eyes darkening with haunting memories recalled in perfect clarity. They’d made quite the dashing couple, he and the fiery Amazon he’d married. Tall, long legged and lovely, flame ridden locks tumbling down her back, she’d retained an athlete’s body even into her forties. The job had seen to that. He could still see the twinkling emerald eyes in his waking dreams. She’d loved him, quite possibly the only one on the planet capable of such. But she’d loved the arts and introduced him to his love of music and dancing. Slouching down in his chair, temple propped on fingers, he drifted back through his memories, the old familiar ache of loss constricting his chest. She’d left him, however, in the end, victim to her own mortality. A malignant heart condition, the doctors had told him. But she’d fought it, loathe to leave him. And for all his strength, all his power, he couldn’t save her. That was the crux, he knew. To his damnation, crystal tears formed in icy eyes, not shed, he’d die first, but his heart ached. God, he missed her! Douglass’s return made him blink, abruptly jolted back to reality and he looked up, blinking as he glanced at her, seeing with a bit of puzzlement the consternation writ on her face. “Everything all right?” he asked, although knowing it probably wasn’t, from the daggers glaring in her eyes. A saturnine brow lifted. “Did you make a mess?” Meaning did she slay something he’d have to pay for.




Douglass : "Everything's fine," she commented as the bus-boy held her chair for her. "Thank you," she gave the young man a nod and as much of a smile as she could manage while holding back her dress as to not wrinkle it anymore than had already been done. Legs crossed at the knee, the right atop and so peeking out from the high slit in the fine fabric. Although the wretched hens had attempted to ruin her evening, she wouldn't let it become his burden as well. The look on his face indicated he didn't believe her, so she mustered up all that she could, offering a polite smile, "Really, everything is fine." The lights began to dim, then glow; dim, then glow; indicating the end of intermission. If he wouldn't be so close, she might sigh in relief. A few more minutes passed before the lights finally faded and the show continued. Within ten minutes, any ill feelings dissipated, and she was once again held in wonder and awe at the marvelous performance.




Of course he didn’t believe her; the look on her face said otherwise. But he didn’t push the issue. She resumed her seat and the lights dimmed shortly thereafter, the music and song once more filling the concert hall. He pulled his mind from the recesses of the past and forced himself to pay attention to the show; he’d paid for it, after all. Another hour and a half drifted by as the climax astounded and, after final scene and the stage went dark, the audience broke into thunderous applause, standing ovations given all around. Dante was no different, he rose to his feet in appreciation; he had enjoyed the show, the company was marvelous and well worth the money he’d dished out. The lights rose once more as the applause continued for several minutes, the actors and singers returning for their well deserved bows.




Douglass : Perhaps she'd been the first to her feet, hand thundering together with appreciation. The strange, small smile had returned to her face; and her eyes glistened with a soft glow. However, she couldn't hold back, two fingers were inserted between her lips and a long, high, shrill whistle echoed out to the actors. She couldn't break her eyes away from the proud individuals who had kept her so enthralled through the whole evening. After the whistle, one of the lead actresses looked to their box, smiling and waving as she had been doing to everyone, and Douglass couldn't help but broaden her smile. The woman's powerful vocals had rang out and touched her, digging deep into a soul that had long slumbered; music woke up feelings, and so she'd avoided it for so long; but tonight she had torn down her protective barrier and had let the music in. Although strange, the feeling wasn't terrible; she continued to applaud, even after most of the audience had ceased.




A sharp brow rose at hearing the loud whistle and he dimly realized it’d come from his companion. He couldn’t help it, he laughed. For the first time in a long time. So hard he had to sit back down. Hand over his eyes, he chortled and sniffled, trying to keep mirth-filled tears from streaming down his cheeks. He knew she’d never been to a shindig like this, but Christ! Several of the older, more appropriate patrons upstairs eyed them with condescending looks, but he couldn’t stop. They’d get over it. Douglass was an innocent child in this world, it wasn’t her fault. But as the applause died down, he managed to get back to his feet and unobtrusively took her arm, steering her from the VIP box back downstairs. A grin still rode his lips as blue eyes twinkled. “Enjoyed yourself, I see?”




Douglass : She smiled the whole time they were walking; she couldn't hide it; a broad genuine smile that radiated. "Just maybe," she said cheerfully, laughing lightly at herself as they walked. They were almost out of the VIP box area when a bitterly familiar voice came to ear. "Look Susie, there's the expensive whore." "Jeffery, that's her, the one from the bathroom that we were telling you about." Oh shit, Douglass's smile faded slowly; the brightness in her eye dimming back to hard crystals of hazel hue. The men that had the two ladies by the arm looked Douglass over, "I wouldn't pay for that, it's disgusting." "Come on John, for the right price you'd lay anything." "I have my morals, Jeffery." They all laughed at her expense; "Some people just have poor taste," one of the woman chimed in. Douglass couldn't believe her ears, so she gritted her teeth and walked on, head held high. Fingers squeezed Dante's arm a little tighter; she wanted to lay them all out, all four of them; but couldn't. Just ignore it Douglass, they don't know shit; but it was hard to ignore something like that, especially now.




Dante’s ears picked up on the snarky comments, killing his good mood quite succinctly. He felt Douglass tense terribly beside him and prayed she’d behave. But it seemed she had it under control, at least she didn’t turn around and assault the heifers with her shoes. Thank Christ she didn’t have a weapon, he offered to the ceiling. But he couldn’t help it. As they moved slowly with the crowd towards the exit, he turned and slowly let those crystalline eyes alight on the two female hecklers. The blond caught him looking at her and offered a smarmy smirk in return, but Dante just allowed himself a small bit of male fun and revenge as his eyes slightly narrowed just so, filling with warm sultry heat, mobile mouth curving in a small wickedly gorgeous grin. Letting his eyes drift lazily over her body, he gave her just a small taste of what it was to make love with just a look. A skill that had served him well in the past. Her companion, wondering why she’d stopped walking, looked at her then at the tall platinum haired male staring at her. The other woman paused, wondering what was going on and turned to look, halting as well as Dante moved his gaze from the blond to the brunette. Giving another skilled demonstration, the hunter just let his lips curve just so, thoroughly enjoying the vapid faces turned his way. From the corner of his eye, he noted the males getting quite annoyed and frustrated, but it made it all the more fun. Never removing his gaze, he said to Douglass, “Look, Douglass, that’s what happens when you put helium in condoms and attach ‘em to your chest. I’m insanely thrilled you don’t have to do that.” He curved his arm around her waist and slapped her hip lightly. “And yeah, breeding should be moderated for dairy goats, don’t you think. But come on, let’s go home, shall we?” Ignoring the spluttering and red faces of the men, he just snickered and steered her outside. They hadn’t made it five steps down when a furious hand snatched the sleeve of his Armani jacket. “Look, pal,” the freckle-faced Jeffery seethed, “that was—“ He never got to finish, for the devil hunter wasn’t having any human indignance. A hand snatched the fiend’s own throat, jerking him face to face with those flaming blue eyes, slowly flashing to stark crimson. Anger lit his countenance, making his face shadowed in the lamplight. “Run away…human,” Dante growled, shoving the man away from him. Staggering with the force of the shove, Jeffery blanched and did just that, taking the woman’s arm and pulling her hurriedly down the sidewalk. Straightening his jacket, Dante snorted as the valet brought round the GTO. “Vermin,” he growled with a small head shake.




Douglass : She didn't really pay attention to the looks he gave the other females, stupid cunts. She didn't want to see, all she wanted was to get away from them. It was a damned good thing that she didn't have a weapon on her; but how she missed her gun. All it would have took was a quick jerk and a gun barrel to the forehead and it would have been the end of it; no violence, just a subtle threat; for Douglass that would be subtle. But no, she humored Dante and paid for it with ridicule; it wasn't his fault humans were so hateful to their own kind; besides, if it hadn't been for that fact, she wouldn't have had a job for so long. Dark hazel eyes never turned as Dante threatened the men, lips remained pursed together as she slipped into the car with the help of the valet. As Dante settled into the driver’s seat, apparently annoyed, she looked down into her lap, "Thanks; but I don't want to go back just yet. Do you think you could take me by my place for a bit?" Eyes finally lifted to him, words hurt her more than physical pain ever could.




After closing the door, he heard her quiet question and glanced over, nodding slightly. “No problem. You’ll have to give me directions, though,” he finished, having no idea where the place was. Pulling out of the parking lot, he headed south on the main street, driving slowly as to not run over any idiots trying to cross streets between the lights.




Douglass : She guided him, turn by turn through the winding city streets, finally pointing out a rather crap-tacular building on the left hand side of Dubois street. The area wasn't very pleasant, gang members stood on the corners, eyeing any and all that walked or rode along the street. The occasional harlot of the night would exit an alleyway, smiling and showing off a bit of skin trying to attract customers. Douglass had long since learned to ignore it all; the fighting, the drugs, the prostitution; it was all just part of the daily routine. As Dante pulled the car to the side of the road, she opened the door and slipped out. Waiting for him to join her on the walkway, she took his arm and led him to the gated door. Buzzing the intercom she waited rather impatiently for the super-attendant to answer back. A sleepy voice buzzed through the voice box. "What do you want?" "It's Douglass, let me in George." "Don't you have a key?" "Not on me, now get off your fat ass and let me in." Silence from the other end, a few moments later a rather plump, middle-aged man with dark hair as thick on his back as on his head opened the front gate. "I suspect you need the key to your room too don't you?" "Could help." "Well you owe me now you know that?" "I don't owe you shit George, if anything you owe me." He gave a gruff humph and turned to return to his own apartment. "Goodnight George and thanks." "Yeah whatever." Douglass shook her head slightly at him; he really wasn't all that bad, providing you hadn't just woken him up. George hadn't given more than a glance at Dante, he learned the hard way to stay out of her business; got himself in a heap of trouble a time or two, but it was all in the past. She turned and went to the stairs, the rickety old things feeling as if they'd collapse beneath them at any given time, home sweet home. Third floor, second door on the right; she stopped in front of it, inserting the key and passing easily to the interior. Just how she'd left it; gun parts strewn all over the place, vials of chemicals littering the single coffee table that stood in the center of the small living room. The couch was covered in dust, and a few jackets. Moving through the place, she flicked lights on; "Come on in and make yourself at home; I know it's not much but it works." Going into the single bedroom she flicked on the light, knowing immediately where she was going and what she was looking for. Digging through the clothes in a pile at the bottom of her closet, she fished out a pair of pants and a top. Going into the bathroom she slipped the dress off, found a hanger and hung it from the shower curtain rod. Quickly pulling on a pair of long, skin tight pants and a halter top with a high back; the pants were deep blue denim, and had lacing all the way up the outside of the legs that closed up at mid-thigh, she was always careful about clothes; the top was crimson in color, and the edges were trimmed in black lace, the opening of the neck-line cut was just as low as the dress, and so showed a good amount of cleavage. Well if you're going to be accused, might as well play the part; her thoughts were bitter. She'd decided to continue to wear the heels Dante had purchased for her; they matched well and would let her show off a bit of leg. After the incident at the opera house, she needed to feel desirable again, not to other people, but to herself. Her clothes were a tad wrinkled, but they would flatten out with a bit of wear. "You up for some drinks?" she inquired walking back into the living room, dress thrown over her shoulder and five one hundred dollar bills fanned in her other hand, "My treat."




Dante pocketed the keys and just walked with her to the gate, not saying much. Although professional habit kept him aware of the trash that littered the street, walking on two legs. They touched his car, he’d castrate every damned one of the punks. A growl and glare served their purpose, however, cowing a few of the closer thugs. Standing back a bit as Douglass went her rounds with the attendant, he knew exactly what it looked like, but fuck ‘em, wasn’t anyone else’s business but theirs. A grin slithered his lips at that thought. Following her upstairs, he closed her apartment door behind him, noting without meaning to the mess that littered the place. He wished he could be so lax, but Lucille would throw a bitch fit. Chuckling a bit under his breath, he just meandered to the window, a finger parting the blinds to double check on his car. All extremities still there. Good. Turning back to the living room, he put hands in his pockets after unbuttoning three buttons on his shirt and collar, damned thing choked him something terrible. Cracking his neck, he deigned to shove things aside to make a seat and just leaned against the wall nonchalantly; he’d been sitting for the past three hours straight. But a brow flicked at her return, wondering what had brought about this little change. “Douglass,” he began seriously, giving her a speculative glance, “…drinks sound good, I reckon. But what brought on the offer?” He figured why not brazen it out? Better to get it over with.




Douglass : She shrugged, slipping the money deep into her pocket, well as deep as it would go; she could hardly get her fingers inside them. Letting a playful little smile curl at the corners of her mouth she walked further into the living room, lifting a jacket from the couch and wincing at the dust that followed; forget that idea. "I just want to end the evening on a good note." She didn't look at him as she spoke; it was the truth, no doubt about that, just not in the detail he was probably looking for. "Besides, last time I intentionally went out for drinks I ended up being the designated driver, not as much that way.”




The knowing look remained on his countenance; he knew better. But she didn’t want to discuss it, so he merely nodded and pushed off the wall, striding to the door to open it. “As you like,” he said, sweeping an arm outside. Closing it after they exited, both headed downstairs and Dante once more opened her car door, letting her slide inside to the sleek leather. “Hm,” he pondered, starting the car, “a good pub. A tall order, around here.” Pulling away from the curb into the street, he headed west, towards the coast. Several streets and blocks later, he parked on the corner of a rather secluded little place, neon hidden under the overhang. “Not bad,” he said, pocketing the keys. “It has karaoke, so might be interesting. But the beer’s cold, which is why I like it.” Ushering her inside, he headed to the bar, instantly recognized by the bartender, who grinned idiotically and hailed the tall hunter. Dante slid off his jacket and lay it on his thigh as he sat down. “Hey, Mike,” he greeted the other man, earning a good-natured punch to the shoulder and accepting it. One of the few humans he’d count as a friend. “Been a while, man,” the portly middle-aged human grinned, wiping a stein and setting it upside down on the counter. “Yeah, work blows ass,” Dante chuckled, leaning back a bit to stretch. But he glanced over at Douglass, saying, “Well, since you’re treating…” He turned back to Mike, who’d quirked a curious brow at the woman, “Whiskey, Irish and leave the bottle.”




Douglass : Douglass only painted a sleek smile on her lips, not wanting to offset Dante's conversation she looked the tender in the eye, "Not a cheap date is he?" with a slight chuckle she retrieved one of the bills from her pocket and laid it on the counter, "I'll have some Jack, better leave that bottle as well honey." She gave him a playful wink, turning out to face the crowd as he retrieved their order. Some poor, pathetic fool was laboring to belt out a Red Hot Chili Peppers song, and Douglass couldn't help but look disgusted, "Jesus fucking Christ, don't these people have any sense of dignity?" "Some don't care none, most are too drunk to know what their doing; take your pick to which it is with that feller." The man beside her chimed; she hadn't realized anyone was listening to her. Scoffing a bit she turned in time to take the bottle of Jack from the barkeep, nodding her thanks with an award winning smile. "So tell me missy, how do you know this here bastard?" Mike gave a playful smile at Dante as he leaned on the counter, anxious to hear this story. Douglass raised a brow to him, pulling a long drink from the bottle he set before her; "Let's just say we didn't meet on happy terms." Enough of this, "Excuse me would you, I think we need some dancing music." Striding confidently to the stage, she stopped by and asked the guy running the Karaoke about getting up there; he informed her that she could take a turn as soon the guy was done. Thumbing through the songs offered, she stopped dead on a Gretchen Wilson song; "Here for the Party." As the poor bastard took his bows and fumbled off the stage, apparently he was drunk, Douglass hopped up, convincing herself that the room was empty. The music tonight had touched her, had opened her up and left her feeling the need to belt out a tune or two of her own. "What's your name sweetheart?" the DJ asked, "Just call me Dee." He nodded, spitting into the mic her introduction; "Now let's hear a big round of applause for out next talent deprived musician, Dee!" Holding the microphone to her lips she gave him a deviant glare, "We'll see whose talent deprived." As the song picked up she began to move in rhythmic succession, hips swaying to the beat. Her voice boomed out through the room, and if not for the difference in that, you wouldn't have even known that it wasn't a recording. As the song played on she was cat-called, whistled at, cheered for and just glamorized by the individuals who'd been waiting for someone decent enough to dance too. "I may not be a ten but the boys say I clean up good;" "Yeah I'd sure say so baby!" "And if I give them half a chance at a wily romance you know they would," "Sing it girl!" "Don't need no Purple Hooter Shooter, just some Jack on the rocks; don't mind me if I start that trashy talk.." And so it went, her eyes never met with anyone else's, and she didn't bother to look in Dante's direction, she figured he'd watch if he wanted too; and give his critique when she was finished. The song ended with a bang, and Douglass didn't even wait for the applause to hop off the stage; she felt better getting that out of her system. Although she breathed a little deeper than normal, she wasn't panting. "Wow, now I say you've got some vocals there missy," Mike stated as she returned to where she'd stood. "Thanks," she took another shot of the Jack before looking to Dante…"No more takers after that display? Can't say I'm surprised, we'll take a break with the tunes of DJ Chris while we all recover!" The announcer's brows bounced on his forehead as he exhaled, "Wow; can't say I expected that."




Mike brought Dante his whiskey along with Douglass’s bottle, bless the man for having a pre-chilled bottle. After all that wine, the hunter needed some hard liquor. But when Douglass excused herself to hop on stage, sharp brows rose beneath unruly platinum strands. Mike chuckled. “Sassy, hm?” Dante snorted, sliding around on his barstool, leaning elbows on the counter. “You got no idea, Mike ol’ man,” he replied with a small grin. Rolling up silk sleeves, he swigged from his bottle absently, relishing the bite of the cold alcohol sliding easily down his throat and watched idly as Douglass took her spotlight and proceeded to wow the audience with her rendition of a popular country song. Dante didn’t do much trailer-park music, as he called it, so he had to just guess, really. He pinpointed it just when she became lost in the music, however, he knew it well from his own tinkerings with his guitar. Dante didn’t have an angel’s voice, but he did play a wicked blues guitar. His lips twitched as the onlookers howled and catcalled the woman on stage; he figured it ought to boost her ego a bit, God knew she needed the positive reinforcement. At that, he snorted. What in God’s name was this? Kindergarten? But he had to laugh quietly at himself. He gave her a nod as she returned, a small salute with his bottle. Jerking his head a bit to clear his eyes, he gave her a lopsided smile. “Not a bad set of pipes, Miss McQue. I’d say you impressed the audience well enough, if the swinging tongues are any indication.” Mike snickered, indeed noting the male eyes that had followed the slender blond from the stage.




Douglass : She didn't have time to respond, immediately one of the many cat-callers slipped up beside her; "Can I buy you a drink?" A single brow flicked at Dante, before addressing her 'new friend,' "Got one thanks." She saluted with her own bottle, taking another long drink. The guy wasn't bad looking, broad shoulders, around six feet tall, ruggedly handsome face, but she wasn't here to get picked up on; not tonight anyway. "How bout a dance then doll face?" She closed her eyes as they rolled, God she hated those words. "First off I'm not your 'doll face' needle dick, and second I already promised my first dance to him." She motioned towards the guy who'd talked to her earlier, he sat, seeming to brood over his glass of beer. "That guy?" her suitor inquired, startled that she'd even consider dancing with someone twice her own age. "Yeah him," she took offense for him, striding a few short steps to him and placing a hand on the bar beside him, "Whacha say? Ready for a lap around the dance floor?" She looked at him gently; he was down on his luck, that much was obvious; he had to have been in his late thirties, early forties, a rough looking fella with a long scruffy beard and soft sunken eyes. He was heavy, but so had been Conroy and he looked at her surprised. "Me?" She smiled at him, a truly genuine smile at his surprise; "I'm not talking to anyone else." She looked up at Dante, the smile unfaltering; the soft glow that had crept to her face during the Opera had returned, and was being shared in a kind gesture towards a stranger. "We'll I'm flattered honey, but I think you should take up the young feller on his offer, I'm a little old for you." Douglass only laughed a bit, "I'm not looking for a hook up, just a swing around the floor with pleasant company. Would you deny me that?" A sparkle entered the man's face, in God only knew how many years he hadn't been asked to dance, so when the opportunity arrived, he hadn't known how to react, but he wasn't going to let the opportunity slip away, he nodded to her, smiling for the first time that evening, "Come on Darlin’, lets show em how it's done." He took her hand, leading her out onto the floor, his chubby digits digesting her fingers. An upbeat tune was playing, and at first it took the guy a while to get comfortable, but as soon as he was, look out. He was showing off moves that Douglass was honestly afraid of, but she laughed along with him, letting him twirl her around from time to time as she tried to follow along. She'd ask Dante to dance later, but she wasn't really expecting him to accept, however who knew, he just might surprise her.



Mike lifted brows as Dante just leaned against the counter and let the girl mouth off on her own, but he really wasn’t surprised. The hunter didn’t go around looking for trouble, but trouble usually just couldn’t leave hands off the man. He’d hauled out several unconscious fucks after Dante’d trashed his place over the years. All of them sporting broken limbs and missing teeth. The hunter always paid damages, so Mike didn’t really mind. But he was still curious. Leaning back over beside Dante, he nodded to the tattooed woman swinging around the cluttered floor with the other man. “What’s the deal here, man?” He propped his chin on a hand. “Ain’t she with you? And you’re just letting her toddle off like that?” Dante chuckled, taking another long draught of whiskey. “She’s not my lover, Mike,” he informed the nosy human with a small grin. “A student, per se. Reluctant partner, if you will. She wanted to learn how to hunt, so I volunteered.” Mike was the one to snort this time. “’At’s bullshit, pal. You’re no teacher. A loner if one ever existed.” Dante shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. But it was either that or kill her, since she was on her way to death’s door anyway, and I’ve yet to resort to outright murder, Mike,” the hunter said somberly. “You know that.” Mike nodded, serious for once. “Yeah, I do know that.” But he turned his eyes from the bartop to watch the couple dance, and rather well. “She’s cute, though,” he said, shoulder nudging the other’s suggestively. Cerulean eyes rolled. “Lay off it, Mike. I’m hardly the lecher the leather suggests, fucking godlings.” Mike laughed. “Maybe not anymore, no.” Dante gave him a look and Mike too the hint, smirking and moving away to serve his other customers. Dante just sighed, eyes rolling in consternation once more and returned to his drinking, eyes reflexively roaming the shadowed corners and floor for any impending signs of unrest. Again, professional habit. It’d been ingrained into his brain for years upon years. But his foot tapped lightly to the rhythm as he drank. Ah, comfort. For now. The idiot who’d harassed Douglass kept eyeing him and Dante, finally getting enough of it, turned now-hard azure eyes to the miscreant, who ducked his head and frowned into his beer. He seemed about to spout off something, but a slight movement of a silken-clad arm revealed the onyx handle of that massive gun nestled along Dante’s ribs and the fool’s teeth clicked together abruptly, he sliding down two more barstools. Good boy, Dante wanted to say, but snorted in derision instead.




Douglass : As the music tottered off, the occupants of the dance floor hooted and applauded for an encore; the guy Dee had been dancing with had revealed to her that his name was Fred, and that he had just gone through a bitter divorce. Douglass loaned him a sympathetic ear, offering tentative smiles when it looked like he needed one. "So what's the story with you and yer beau over there?" Head motioned towards Dante as they spun around during a slow song, her was surprisingly graceful for a larger man. Douglass laughed lightly, "He's not my beau; coworker is the best way to describe it." "Well then you sure picked a hell of a profession, everyone in here recognizes him as a hard ass, can't say I was surprised to hear how you responded to that young feller though, not after seeing you associate with him." She looked at him, confused, "What you mean by that?" "Well, you'd have to have a level head on your shoulders to deal with him; I avoid him to be honest. Seen him bust a guy or two in here; never saw him with a gal though." For some reason none of it surprised her, hazel eyes moved across the floor to where Dante still sat, alone. She felt a twinge, or perhaps it was the alcohol in her system; no the alcohol definitely had something to do with it, but there might be more. She sighed, then looked back at Fred; "No need to say nothing hun, I understand. Go give that boy a dance, Lord knows he's earned it." She gave him a light kiss on the cheek, there was something about him that just seemed so fatherly, so much like what she'd been missing. "Thanks, you take care." "You too, and watch yourself Dee." They split, walking side by side off the dance floor. Fred reassumed his place at the bar, a happy smile on his face as he requested another beer. Douglass slipped into a stool, leaving one between Dante and herself; "Enjoying yourself?" Lifting the now half empty bottle to her lips yet again, she drank long and deep, not even tasting it anymore.




People passed, as per the norm in a bar, a few, mostly female, looking at the tall slouched figure, but Dante paid them scant attention. He wasn’t here for such. He was here because Douglass had seemed to need the out, to get some of the irritation out of her system. Plus, he hadn’t seen Mike in a while; was nice to prowl around humanity once in a while. Kept his head on straight; reminded him just what he was fighting for. Although that little lesson had been violently pounded into his brain about ten years ago. But Mike returned with another bottle, chattering amiably, as was his wont and Dante listened, or did a good job of pretending to anyway. He dimly heard the music stop, then start again, then taper off to the scant applause and chatter of people scattered around the place. He spied Douglass’s dance partner meandering back to the bar, looking happy as a pig in shit. Seemed the old brother’d just needed a calm touch, hm? But he merely chuckled quietly and took another pull on his fresh bottle, noting Douglass bouncing through the tables and folks back to the bar, taking a seat. To her question, he nodded. “More or less, yeah. Could do with a foot prop and my desk chair, but I won’t complain…too much anyway,” he amended as Mike grunted behind him. Dante shot him a grin over a shoulder. “Yeah, you could do with some easy chairs around her.” Mike scoffed. “Then the place’d never close.” Dante laughed and gave Douglass a glance. “And feel better, do ya?”




Douglass : "Yeah, much. I just needed to get those stupid cunt's words out of my head." She shook her own, slightly more quickly than she'd really intended; apparently she was either getting dangerously close to, or already was drunk. "You know, I really don't care what they say, so long as I don't hear it." She nodded, apparently she'd had some kind of triumph; and drank again. "So how bout it Dante, you care to take a spin?"




“People are dicks, that’s true,” he agreed, taking another pull on his bottle, setting it back down on Mike’s counter. Cracking his neck, he missed the first part of her question and didn’t quite believe the second part. “Run that by me again?” A tease lit his eyes and he couldn’t help but give into the notion. “You’d really dance with little ol’ demon me? Aww…”




Douglass : She groaned, rolling her head a bit, then looking at him through long lashes; "How many times do I have to tell you, you're not a demon, you're Dante, and no matter how much you harp about it, it's not going to change one way or the other. Just like no matter how much I despise it, I'll always be just a girl; a stupid doll faced girl." She sighed heavily, taking his hand, "I'm not giving you the option anymore, you're going to dance with me."




He knew she didn’t hate the fact that he wasn’t fully human, but he couldn’t resist teasing her about it. It seemed to bother more that he gave her shit about it than the fact itself. But he blinked a bit as she snatched his hand and pulled him from his comfortable perch atop the stool. “Um, all right then,” he said, a bit confused, but what the hell, she was slowly getting hammered, probably in accordance to her plan in the first place. But he followed her just as the next song queued up, a rather swanky number by Tracy Chapman. Dante recognized the strains and sighed heavily. Lovely. Just what everyone needed. But folks meandered back to the open floor just as he and Douglass arrived. This was going to be strange. Nevertheless, she’d insisted so he’d give it his best shot. Letting her arm slide through his palm until fingers gripped her wrist, he more or less slung her in front of him, yanking her back to the circle of his other arm. The music flowed over his ears, permeating his brain. So slow and naughty. Damnit. But he was determined to brazen it out. Pulling Douglass up against his chest, he settled into the slow, side-to-side, around-and-around rhythm, eventually maneuvering her knees apart to slip one of his own between. Was the way of the dance, after all. One hand rested at the small of her back, long fingers splayed against her skin, the other resting with hers at her shoulder level. It was coming back to him.




Douglass : She didn't resist, she didn't flinch; if anything she invited the touch. Her right arm slipped up his left, fingers resting gently against the crook of his neck, her touch soft and lacey. She closed her eyes as they moved, hips gyrating in sync with the rhythm; others on the floor looked at them, smirking; what a couple the two made. A hard assed bastard and a tattooed bitch; she couldn't even picture it in her mind. The thought made her smile, the corners of her full lips turning up in a subtle, pouty position. Tilting her head back, tips of white teeth peeked from behind her lips; and her back arched; first angling off to the left, then moving around to the right before pulling back up to rest her head near his shoulder. As the song played on, she twisted herself around, slowly in time with the music until her back faced him. Her own fingers slid up her sides, the edges of fingers gently brushing him as well; until they reached just under her bust, then the simultaneous movement split, and one hand ventured up between her breasts while the other ventured down to rest upon her thigh. Fingers slipped around his neck once more, tangling themselves in platinum locks; it didn't matter that it was Dante, it wouldn't matter who it was; she just wanted to dance, wanted to feel the touch of another on her skin, wanted to feel period.




He’d known this had been a bad idea. But fuck it; he’d damn sure see it through. He knew well the effects of alcohol on a human system and he could smell it on Douglass’s breath. And she wasn’t a heavy drinker in the first place. So he’d behave. For a little while. Grinding teeth imperceptibly, he just moved against her, letting her maneuver under his hands as she would. The music did its sultry work, slowing the synapses between collective brain cells and he released his embrace just enough for her to turn around as they moved, sliding back against him. Returning his arms around her waist, long sensitive fingers of his left hand trailed over the bared skin of her lower stomach, drawing blunted nails in light lines to and fro. He, too, was aware of all eyes on them as they moved in slow sultry circles, but eh, fuck it. But he nearly collapsed in a heap as fingers slid into his hair. If the son of Sparda had one weakness, it was the exquisite feeling of fingers sliding through platinum locks. A soft sigh left his lips as he leaned his cheek against her temple, right hand sliding down to the hand that rested on her thigh, drawing it up to press both joined hands against her chest, the back of his hand brushing against the exposed skin of her bust. Lips brushed against the delicate skin of her ear, moving gently with his whispered words. “Be careful, Douglass…”




Douglass : Tilting her face up, pink tongue traced full lips, causing them to glisten slightly in the dim lights of the bar. "I'm just dancing," Eyes turned to narrow slits as she opened them for the fist time since the dance had started; immediately falling on the smiling face of Fred, he gave her a wink; granting his approval, and for some reason, it meant the world to her. "You're a good dancer Dante, you're good at everything you do; I'm not, just let me be good at what I am." Fingers slid down his neck and then her own shoulders to wrap around his hand upon her chest. Delicate fingers massaged it gently as hips swayed in the round about rhythm of the music; God, she really better heed his words, her body yearned for the touch of a lover; but it couldn't be Dante. "Let's just enjoy it while we have it; besides," her voice went lower, lips strained to become closer to his ear, "They are all enjoying it."




“Yeah, God knows,” he growled back with furrowed brows, eyeing the laughing beefy face of Mike behind the bar. Had he something, he’d have thrown it right between the man’s eyes. But he squealched the impulse and just kept moving as the music relentlessly continued, pounding away inside his head. But he forced his hands away from hers to a more proper place around her waist, realizing her unconscious withdrawal. Finally, the song ended and the lights lifted a bit as the DJ took a short break. Dante released her and stepped back, giving her a nod. “Not bad,” he said with a forced grin, melting back into the crowd and appearing back at the bar once more, throwing Mike a dagger laced look. The man got the hint and gulped, sidling away to assist some other drunk down the bar. Flat brows lowered over hard eyes as the hunter lifted his bottle again.




Douglass : The Karaoke DJ stepped up, calling out to anyone who might want to belt out another song. His eyes moved to Douglass, locking on her and pulling her in like a moth to the flame. "Come on Dee, give us another; you know you want to." "Fine," she stepped up the stage, the DJ smiling like a moron, "Got one picked out for you doll, figured you know this one." "No, I'll pick." "Aw, come on, this will keep the crowd going!" She shot him hard glance, no bullshit painted all over her face. "All right, all right sheesh." "That one," she pointed to a title on the page, then went straight to the stage, lifting the microphone a multitude of people began to applaud and whistle, but their calls were greeted by deaf ears; she sombered up a bit, after dancing with Dante; she could still feel the caress of his hands on her, and her body hungered for more. No Dee, you can't; not tonight, and not with him." Eyes moved lazily about the room, unseeing they passed from face to face. As the piano lyrics played, several disappointed sighs exasperated from unknown breasts, but she picked up right on cue; "The greatest man I never knew, lived just down the hall. Everyday we said hello; but never touched at all…" Several coupled slow-danced to the melody, and many others listened with surprised content. The song was filled with a deep rooted sorrow, and she simply paced from one side of the stage to the other, hitting the high long notes with ease. As it winded down, she closed her eyes, fighting off the feelings that dared to arise from within; "The greatest words I never heard; I guess I'll never hear. The man I thought could never die, has been dead, for years. He was good at business; but there was business left to do. He never said he loved me, I guess he thought I knew." As the last two lines of the song poured forth from her lips, her eyes lifted to Fred; then progressed on to Mike, who had even stopped to watch and listen. Finally they came to rest upon Dante, as the final note tapered off and disappeared into the night. She nodded very subtly as she slipped off the stage, staggering over to the bar. She stopped and bid farewell to Fred, giving him a gentle kiss on the side of his head. "Go see your kids," her parting words. She grinned at Mike, "Nice to meet you, perhaps we shall do it again sometime." She turned to Dante, "When you’re ready, I'll be outside." She didn't wait for his response, just touched his shoulder lightly as she passed, slipping out the door into the cool night air. Walking across the parking lot, she could see the ocean, the lights of the city twinkling off the waters surface. She slumped to a seat upon a rock outlining the parking lot; face leaning down to cupped by upturned palms. "I miss you daddy." The cool night wind caused gooseflesh to form up and down her bared skin, but she shrugged it off; nothing she could do about it right now.




Coming here had been stupid. That hammered right across his temporal lobe. But Douglass was having fun, nice someone was. He just sat on his stool and nursed his bottle, sour thoughts traipsing through his brain. Jayden had always said his mood swings were worse than an old woman’s. That memory brought a ghost of a smile, quickly fading as Douglass began to sing once more. He merely sighed and took another draught of the icy alcohol, feeling the stuff finally begin to affect his brain. Time to quit for the night. She had a lovely voice, that he’d admit. But he shrugged off the lyrics. A snort to think…eh, fuck it. He went ahead and paid for his second bottle as he shrugged on his jacket as Douglass appeared at the counter, bidding Mike good night. He nodded absently as she left, really looking forward to home and a good night’s sleep, for once. Mike didn’t comment, merely nodded to Douglass as she left; he knew better than to poke his nose where it could get snapped off. Dante rose from his barstool and left the building, spying Douglass propped against a rock, looking out to sea. Striding to the car, he called quietly, “Come on, Douglass.” Starting the engine, he unlocked her door and waited, revving the horses a tad.




Douglass : She blew a kiss to the wind, then turned and slipped into the car; thank God I don't have to drive. Head rested against the back of her seat, eyes turned to watch the sea disappear behind them as Dante sped away; they were both lost in thought, and she wasn't about to snap out of it soon. As the car veered onto the dirt road, she let her head teeter back towards Dante, eyes falling on his image sleepily; "Thank you… for everything."



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