What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

If there was anything a woman could hate more than bald-faced rudeness, Marlowe couldn't think of it now. Caroline Marlowe, the owner of the saloon wasn't fond of the customers in the bar--rude, mean, and a sense of entitlement made them the top of her blacklist. Not to mention their tendency to break out into random bouts of unnecessary violence. The woman behind the bar was fierce--she looked dangerous and sexy at the same time, though she was hoping she looked a little more dangerous than sexy at the moment. Her long golden hair fell in waves down her back and framed her lovely face. Her body was draped in white and black and she looked just inviting enough to be friendly, but not quite enough to be taken advantage of.

"Gimme another schweet thang," one of the men slurred. He grabbed one of her server girls and she nearly got out her gun for the way that poor girl was struggling--the fear in her eyes was awful. The regular customers tried to calmly ignore the men making a big fuss of it all, but it was difficult to do with them raising a ruckus. Caroline had had just about enough of this nonsense.

"Don't you fellas think you've had enough?" The edge to her voice was unmistakable, even in a drunken haze.

"Well, hey now, lady. We're just havin' a goo' time. We're bringin ba usiness. Er, bringing ya business. No need to get all testy, toots."

They were really just adding fuel to the fire. "I want you fellas to pay off your tab and get out of this bar. I won't sell you another drop of alcohol today, tonight, or even tomorrow. And don't think of coming back here again until you learn some manners." Her voice was level and almost calm, but there was an anger sizzling underneath. Some of the more sober gents who knew her reputation got the hint and left whatever money was in their pocket before stumbling out.

"Geez, no need to get all angry, Marlowe."

Her eyes pierced the remainders that would be causing trouble. She was ready with her guns and she was not afraid to use them. The question was, would she really have to? More than likely, the answer was yes, but there wasn't a person in this bar that wouldn't have been on her side of the argument.

Yes. There wasn't a person in the bar at that time what would be on her side of the argument...until a peculiar looking male came strolling into the bar, his eyes blinded by the odd shades he wore and his aura seemed to be dull...despite his looks of outlandish gear he wore. He took a seat in the back of the bar and did not order anything, except her pulled out his pistol and began to examine it, ignoring the ruffians inside of the saloon. His gun was as odd as he was...and it brought the attention of a few of the customers inside the saloon to notice. The man never said anything, even as he reached for an empty whiskey shot glass that was on the table and just held it up, asking to be served. By the time one of the bartenders brought some whiskey over to the man, he snatched it from the bartender and began to pour it into the cup...and oddly enough, took out the barrel of his gun and just dropped it in the whiskey before holstering the rest of the gun. Leaning back, he seemed to be relaxed as he waited for the barrel of his gun to be coated in the alcohol it was being drenched and drowned in...also listening to the ruffians finally, wondering whether he should intervene or not. Probably not...It wasn't his business, as they said nothing to him.

One of the nearby waiters snapped out of the awe he was in of the blatant ignoring of tension. He took the man's order and hurried off to mix the drink. Marlowe never took her eyes off of the hooligans in front of her, though they surely took notice of the man. "Ey, how come dis guy gess 'is drinksh an' we godda go? He's a stranger."

"He's not any of your concern. I said I don't want you boys here. I don't owe you an explanation and I'm definitely not afraid to make you get out of here."

That started them off on making trouble for other customers in the background and challenging her authority.

"Oh yeah? Well we ain't leavin' till we're good an' ready toots."

Apparently this one dropped back a few decades after he'd had too much to drink. He stared at her with a smug grin on his face and a laugh that made her want to cut off a certain part of his body. That sense of entitlement was just too much.

"Alright then. Let's get you ready," she said pulling a pistol up and taking off the safety, aiming directly at the middle of his forehead. "I'll count to five."

The man took interest now, only slightly turning his head to watch the scene go on. When the woman pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the man's head, he only sighed and stood up, walking over to the scene and gently pushing down her revolver. "Don't waste ammo on scum. Money's hard to come by these days, and from your watered down drinks, I can only assume you're starving for more money." He turned to the men and frowned, his eyes still hidden behind his glasses. "Now I'll have to ask you two to leave before I'm forced to kick you out myself, and steal your money too."

As the nameless bastard intervened, Marlowe transferred her gaze to him. It looked every bit as pissed and dangerous. It was the equivalent of patronizingly patting her cheek and trying to tell her she was silly. And on top of that he insulted her drinks. The guy had some nerve. "You're really an idiot aren't you?" she asked, her expression unchanging. If he was trying to win points or free drinks from her, he was going about it in a truly unique way. One that was unwelcome. She could take care of herself.

Apparently, the scum she'd been aiming her gun at was unimpressed. He looked over to the newcomer with amusement. "Hey now buddy. You don know me. Me an Marlowe was just talkin. I dunno who you think you are, bu' it just ain't considered neighborly to butt in on a conversation like tha'. She wasn' gonna shoot me. I ain' afraid." He laughed and then two of his buddies had their guns drawn and aimed unsteadily at the stranger.

When the man saw that scum's buddies aim guns at him, he only stared at them silently before putting a hand in his pocket, though he looked like he had no intention of fighting. "Hey now, can't we all just get along? I just saved your life here, though I'll gladly take it if you decide to patronize the woman here any longer. So again, I'll ask you to leave before I have the pleasure of throwing you out myself..." He then turned his attention to Marlowe again. "Then we'll talk about your cheap drinks and how I want an actual unopened bottle, which I'll pay for with what I-" He suddenly turned to the thugs, pulling out the revolver he had. It didn't have the barrel in it, but he still used it to pistol whip the 'leader' thug before beginning to take out the other two before they could react...though he didn't kill them. He simply chuckled and wiped his hands on each other, dusting them off before he smiled to the woman and took off his glasses to reveal his yellow-green eyes. "Now then...how about a shot on the house? And I mean liquor, not from your gun."

She was getting more pissed by the second, and the way he looked at her as if he knew her. It was really getting her riled and she was already in a very bad mood. She glared at him as he told her yet again that she had cheap drinks. Marlowe watched as the thug started to interrupt and was then pistol whipped. Her eyebrows shot up and she watched the other two go down. There was a cheer that came up from the crowd and two tall cowboys named Ray and Charles came to cart the unconscious fellas outside and wait for the police.

Amused, Caroline Marlowe smirked and leaned against the counter. "Sorry, all I have are cheap, watered-down drinks."

(Isn't Ray Charles a pianist >.> lol)

"Then make it two shots." He said chuckling as he took a seat near the counter. "Sorry for the...show, but I was really getting annoyed by those guys. A beautiful lady like yourself shouldn't have to suffer from punks like that. Oh, excuse me." He got up and walked back over to the table he was at before and pulled out the revolver's barrel. Without even drying it, he plopped it into the gun the way it was supposed to be and spun it before holstering it as he returned. "Now then...About those goons and my drink...Whats their problem?"

((LOL! Yes, well it is Ray Charles was also a singer. I was wondering if you had caught it.))

She found it difficult to be mad at a man who was complimenting her, despite his earlier insults. He was joking, and he seemed to be willing to take it back...but he hadn't as of yet. The waiter who'd taken his order before looked at Marlowe helplessly and she rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to straighten up and get back to work. The tension that had been in the bar before was mostly gone now. The patrons were back to being lively, but not too lively. It was difficult to stay mad.

"Two shots of what? And only one is on the house. Next time take it easy on your negative comments, pal. You have no idea how close to death you really were." She rolled her eyes and then leaned against the counter, tilting her head so that lovely blonde locks fell over her shoulder. "What's your name, stranger?"

(lol. I haven't heard any of his music, but I grew up hearing about Ray Charles every now and then, just enough to know who he is and what he did.)

"My name is of no importance, and I'm not going to stick around much longer. Just passing through town, maybe get a bed at a inn if you have one here in this city, then I'll just be on my merry little way." He said as he snatched another bottle from the same waiter when he passed by him. He chuckled. "A shot." He began to drink the whole bottle, some of the alcohol trickled down his lips a bit and soon the whole bottle was empty. "Damn thats the stuff...Watered down, but still refreshing." He put the bottle on the counter and chuckled as he pulled out some greenback dollars and laid them on the table. "Take whatever it is it costed. Doesn't matter to me, dunno what the currency of this place adds up to and all that." He shrugged. "Just don't take it all...I need a little left for the inn, assuming I had enough to begin with anyway."

Marlowe watched him with curiosity, amused at the way he seemed to just brush everything off. When he set the money down she took it all and started counting it out. When he started talking about watered down drinks and downing the whole bottle, she held onto the cash and just gave him a rather pointed look.

"Wouldn't you know I'm the owner of the inn. It's above the bar. And I think I'll start charging gratuity for all those insults, buddy. You'll be lucky if I let you rent a room with that attitude of yours. Or maybe I'll have to water down something else." It was clear she didn't appreciate his jokes. Much less the implication that she wasn't doing good business. "And if you keep saying my stuff is cheap and watered down you can sleep outside, I don't care how much money you have."

The man only shrugged to her reaction. "Well sorry miss. I was just teasing you for a bit there." He shrugged and leaned against the counter, laying his head on his arms as his mystifying eyes looked up into hers as he spoke. "I'm really tired for the night, truly I am. I don't care where I sleep, I just want something soft to lay on rather than rocks and being bound in ropes by slavers." He said shrugging. "Times're tough aren't they miss?" He said chuckling before he closed his eyes and began to slowly drift off to sleep right there.

She rolled her eyes and took enough to cover the alcohol he'd downed and a room for the night. "For pitty's sake." She rolled her eyes and called another more experienced bar tender to keep watch while she got this stranger settled. She came to the other side of the counter and stood before him, golden eyes watching him curiously as he drifted a bit. "Come on, stranger. Follow me." With that, she stuffed some money in his hand and led him toward a stairwell that went up to the second floor. Her outfit was more easily seen as she led the way. It was a little risque, but she didn't mind. It was functional and she could move, and if anyone tried to touch her or make a comment without her approval, she'd make them pay dearly.

Caroline Marlowe was no pushover, but she had a soft spot for people with no concept of when to quit. It was at times charming, and at other times down right annoying. "Alright, I'm really going to need your name," she said, taking the key to his room from a pocket on her coat. She led him to room number five and unlocked the door, handing the key to him as she turned on the lights.

It was a small, but cozy room with sturdy and comfortable furniture. A nice quilt was on the bed, and nice curtains that were just dark enough to block out the early sun. A lamp was on a bedside table near a queen sized bed and there was a window seat if he wanted to look outside. A small closet for clothes and belongings, plus a chest at the end of the bed. Attached was a bathroom with a small shower and all the proper amenities. She got some fresh linens out of the bathroom closet for him and set out a glass for his use. "There. If you need soap, there are some packaged samples in the shower and a little wrapped bar in the dish there. Breakfast starts at seven tomorrow. If you need anything I'll be in the end room after closing time. Sleep well."

With that, Caroline headed for the door, thinking he was quite finished with her.

"Hold on" He called out to her as he managed enough strength to sit up straight. He rubbed his head and grumbled as he told her his name. "Name's Darian...pleasure to meet you..." He said painfully as he rubbed his head. "Miss, do you maybe do neck massages or somethin'? I need something to soothe my neck from a long day's walk in the sun and getting drunk apparently didn't help out too much." He whispered this under his breath: 'Despite how watered down the drinks were...'

He grumbled a bit and began to massage his own neck with a hand but it showed obviously that it wasn't exactly working for him if he did it. He couldn't quite reach the part on his back where he wanted to massage his neck firmly. "Please miss? I'll pay extra." 'Maybe a little more if I get a happy ending...ain't been to Chinatown in a good long while pfft heh...'

Caroline turned to face him as he practically begged her for a neck massage. So Darian was his name? And did she hear something about watered-down drinks? She raised an eyebrow at his pleading and the willingness to pay extra. She just smirked at his line about happy endings and walked seductively to his side. "Well, if you put it that way..."

And then she punched him in the jaw. "Learn some manners first." She glared at him and turned on her heal. "Maybe if you're not such a bastard when you wake up I'll consider your massage for quite a large fee. Putting up with your smugness is one of the most unpleasant experiences I've had in my whole life."

With that, she hurried out of the room, striding with fierce purpose--to get the hell away from him before she felt the urge to do more than just punch him. "Happy Ending," what an asshole. She grumbled to herself as she headed back for the stair case and the bar. It would be closing time soon enough. She'd had enough insults for one day, thank you very much.

When he felt the punch to his jaw, he fell back on the bed and just groaned as he rubbed his jaw. "Damn girl...you've got quite a punch there..." He murmured to her as he watched her off. He now forgot all about the pain in his neck because the jaw she almost broke made him pay more attention to that rather than his neck. He shrugged and laid down in the bed, trying his best to sleep...which wasn't long. He slept soundlessly, no noise whatsoever, even with his small breathing he couldn't be heard. It would be as if he was a dead body just laying in the bed...if the person who found him didn't see his chest slightly rise up and down from him breathing however. But even then...his body was covered by a blanket to hide that. He wouldn't wake up until the next morning.

Marlowe took a nice long bath and pointedly ignored the door at the other end of the hall once she was finished with closing up the bar and going through all of the receipts and tills for the night. She'd locked up the money in her safe and then sent her employees home with thanks. Now she was enjoying a lovely bath. When she was finished, she braided her hair and dressed in panties and a sleep shirt that came to her mid thighs before she fell asleep in her nice soft bed.

She woke early the next morning to make breakfast for her guests, though some wouldn't really want much due to their hangovers. She wore a short skirt and vest over a blue tube top and a nice hat. Somehow, she still managed to look dangerous as she started making eggs benedict with bacon and juice for herself.

As soon as the clock hit seven, Nathan was awake and already trudging downstairs...though the rate he was going, by using the wall as support, made him take about ten minutes before he actually got down the stairs to the ground floor from his room. When he smelled the food, he yawned and walked over to the counter and called out to Marlowe. "Hey girl, could you get me some eggs if you don't mind? I'm starving over here..." He murmured to her as he rubbed his jaw. "And damn I think you almost dislocated my jaw...Odd to find a woman with such...power and beauty all hogged up in one shell."

"You're a little late if you're trying to use flattery to get on my good side. And it serves you right for making such untoward requests," she said, getting her meal ready. She had enough for two, so she made him a plate and set it down in front of him. "My name is Caroline Marlowe. Pick one of those two and stick with it. You should at least call me my name. Do you want coffee or juice?" she asked, taking her plate on the other side of the counter and pouring herself some juice. She wasn't much for coffee first thing in the morning, but then, she made it extra strong.

She took some of her bacon for herself and watched him. He looked like he hadn't slept in ages, but she was quite sure that he'd slept. "Did you enjoy your stay aside from your newly sore jaw?"

"Yeah sure you could say that." He grumbled to her when she spoke of his stay. "The jaw's feeling just fine, though I might need a kiss to make it feel better." He joked as he began to eat the eggs, which were actually pretty good, though he prefered to eat his eggs with some salt on it but this would have to do. "So...you never did tell me why those thugs kept on hassling you the other day. You looked ready to spill some blood until I came in. Glad I managed to save a life...no matter how punkish it was." He shrugged. "Though thats just for unnecessary fighting. If it comes to it, I won't hesitate to take someone's life."

She poured him some juice and sat it in front of him, gesturing to the salt and pepper shakers next to him. "I can give you ice, but you'll have to work on that thing you call charm if you want a kiss from anyone like me." she said, taking a sip of her juice and then eating a bit of her eggs benedict. She loved the hollandais sauce she made with it, so hers had a bit more than his. It was pretty clear that she made this fairly often. At least her guest didn't seem to think it was "cheap" or somehow "watered-down." As he asked her about last night though, she sighed.

"As you may or may not be able to tell about me, the one thing I simply cannot tolerate is rudeness. Especially when it comes with a side of smug entitlement. I run a respectable business. People come here to relax and forget about the people that made them mad during the day. And they were starting trouble. That group actually always starts trouble after they've had so many drinks. When I cut them off and they refused to leave I got mad."

She shrugged and showed him her gun and how it was just caps. "They're blanks." She said taking it back. "The worst he might have got was a burn. But I was trying to scare him. It works sometimes. Others it doesn't. I wouldn't have killed them. It's too messy," she said with a smirk.

Then she excused herself to make scrambled eggs and bacon for a new customer. When she came back, she started eating her own meal again. She took a drink of juice and then looked over at him. "Need anything?"

"Or you could have used rubber bullets." He said simply to her. "All the looks of a real bullet from afar, the sound is the same when its fired from the trigger, and the pain is just as strong if you hit bare skin...but the only difference is that they don't die." HE said snickering as he leaned back against the counter. "Its interesting how you're like this. I've never met women anywhere else who were remotely like you: power and beauty in one hogged up shell. You should be using that talent for something better than running a bar."

(Sorry for not meeting up with your post size. Internet cuts out so I have to type fast and get the point across before it cuts out.)

((That's okay. I understand. ))

She rolled her eyes at his last statement, though she was secretly flattered that he felt she was so unique. Caroline gave thought to the idea of rubber bullets, but those were sort of hard to come by in the area. She'd have to special order those, and they just weren't worth the money if you had blanks. She'd give it more thought, though, if they kept up their little antics. She leaned against the counter and ate more of her eggs and watched him.

"Oh? And what is it that you think I should be doing with my talents?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. It was always interesting to see what someone would say about that. Especially when nobody who told her such things had a right to do so.

"Well I bet most guys here would be referring to that amazing body of yours as a 'talent', but I'm actually speaking of your intimidation skills, your ability to stay cool under pressure, and just being able to hold a gun. Most women are so...generic housewivey unless they're hookers and whatever, you know? You should be a bounty hunter...or the law of this town or something, cause apparently this town has no law whatsoever if those thugs are just roaming the streets as they please."

"People who want to be sheriff aren't fit for the job," she said, finishing up her breakfast. "And I'm not one to invite trouble upon myself. A bounty hunter? Nah. I'm not sure I've got it in me for that kind of work. Besides, you'd never know your true friends," she said, taking her dishes to the side and drinking her juice. "I'm happy making my living in a way that doesn't require me to risk life and limb, not to mention living from check to check." she shrugged and then stretched a little.

"Anyway, who are you to say what I'd be good at? You hardly know me."