Mary Anne Bell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
song_tra_bong) wrote2008-02-29 06:08 pm
song_tra_bong) wrote2008-02-29 06:08 pm
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The door opens onto a dimly lit bar. Two men in suits sit at a table by the wall, speaking in low voices; they don't look up when Mary Anne and Ramon walk in.
Four men at the pool table in the back do look up, then go back to their game. Their rolled up sleeves show off jailhouse tattoos--tattoos that mean murderers, time served, rank in their organization. Just because they aren't staring openly doesn't mean they aren't paying attention. The fact that no one makes a fuss just yet over Ramon's machine gun is telling.
A waitress in a short skirt goes by with a tray, delivering drinks to the suits by the wall. Mary Anne heads for the bar, taking a seat that's a few stools over from the next man. She beckons the bartender over.
"Vodka for me and my friend," she says in flawless Russian. "And keep them coming. We're out on the town tonight."
The bartender shakes his head. "You picked a hell of place to come," he says, but pours the drinks all the same then wanders down to the customer at the other end of the bar.
Four men at the pool table in the back do look up, then go back to their game. Their rolled up sleeves show off jailhouse tattoos--tattoos that mean murderers, time served, rank in their organization. Just because they aren't staring openly doesn't mean they aren't paying attention. The fact that no one makes a fuss just yet over Ramon's machine gun is telling.
A waitress in a short skirt goes by with a tray, delivering drinks to the suits by the wall. Mary Anne heads for the bar, taking a seat that's a few stools over from the next man. She beckons the bartender over.
"Vodka for me and my friend," she says in flawless Russian. "And keep them coming. We're out on the town tonight."
The bartender shakes his head. "You picked a hell of place to come," he says, but pours the drinks all the same then wanders down to the customer at the other end of the bar.
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And then it's freezing cold and she's breaking the kiss and moving away.
'OK.'
Shit. Yeah.
'OK.'
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She nods jerkily. "So...so I'll see you around."
It comes out sounding much more like a question than she meant (than it should).
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He waves a hand, half distracted, half irritated because he's wound so tight and now there's nowhere to go.
'Fuck it, we're always around aren't we?'
Aren't they? He turns away to glare over the lake.
'See you.'
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"See you."
She heads back toward the building, but never makes it there. She doesn't want to see anyone she knows, doesn't want to have to deal with people, so between one step and the next, she's just gone.
She'll spend the next half hour sitting in the middle of her living room floor with her face in her hands. A cold shower will chase the redness from her eyes, among other things. She will not be better, but she will say she is well.