ohh hell yes

mona will see to that
Miss Kitara likes to see her busy

A jackncoke

*hovers*

Admires your outfit

Hearing a voice, looking up hello Miss

Hello tom35

Nightlife
Millie pulled the bloody napkin from her face and tried to stand, only to stop short as she watched the glint of a knifepoint held in her direction, off-handedly held by the serving girl.

"Why…" she stammered before sputtering a breath that splashed a fresh nosebleed around the area, scattered red dots all around her front.

When EZ Mike moved, however, MILLIE gathered her wits and rolled, anticipating that the knife was going to come into play in some perilous way, though she was also looking for some opening or opportunity to contribute in some fashion, even if it was just to haphazardly bind her legs in an inarticulate tackle, risk a knife wound in the process.

hearing another enter
Stays quiet until spoken too

Walks in…

A hard day it seems?

South Town
The Hand-catching technique was not known to Mike. He'd learned to fight first on the street, where you'd use every advantage you could, when you could. When you're born with a club foot and couldn't run, that left very little in terms of 'advantage'. So fighting dirty was a given. His later training was at Kang Tao, which offered Win Chun, but old Flat-vids of a guy nicknamed "Money", professional Boxer, captured his imagination.

The lithe fingers wrap over his knotty fist and slow his momentum, redirect it to prevent any lasting damage to the serving girl.

A flash of metal and his teeth bare, the extra 'fang' in a chipped tooth visible in his sneer. He was expecting the familiar feeling of metal intrusion. Not that you ever get used to it.

But it's held outward towards MILLIE, instead.

Mike, holding onto that formative training where he got his ass-kicked regularly, raised his back leg, which was the flesh-and-bone one after the step through and straight, And launches his heel forward at her kneecap.

She should have just tried to stab him.

'Money' Mike Silverton, With the illegal kneecap stomp in the beginnings of the first round. He doesn't say anything, but his breath is wheezing with the press of bruised flesh against his windpipe.

#r-stan is awaiting

here

drinking from the bottle tonight...

emotion

here

mona
bottle of Crown

Raw