This is what it means to be a woman in this world. Every step is a bargain with pain. Make your black deals in the black wood and decide what you’ll trade for power. For the opposite of weakness, which is not strength, but hardness.
She cooed over the picture like any good woman over baby photos, and Tig didn’t have the heart to explain the poor dog’s fate. Instead, he tucked the photo away, pushed his glass to the edge of the bar for a Prospect to come around and refill. The mention of prison time caught Tig’s attention. He was hardly unfamiliar with prison; been there too many times to count.
He glanced back at her, half-sizing her up (didn’t look like the type of gash that could survive prison, but some people were just more resilient than they looked), and he said, “No kidding. What’d the pig’s get you for?” Maybe it was an improper question—you had to work up to those kind of intimate questions with a little small-talk, conversational foreplay. But Tig was blunt and to the point and didn’t really understand chitter-chatter.
Intently honing in on his facial expression, it was honestly a painted visage she’d expected. Grin continued to linger, her shoulders slumping as mind worked heavily to formulate some sort of response, but all she could do was laugh. Not only was the demeanor in which the Californian biker inquired to her incarceration undoubtedly comical, but she’d sound like a psychopath no matter which way retorted. Teeth reeled in lower lip and released. Ava was ill with hesitance still, but that wasn’t anything the double shot of Wild Turkey sitting idly in front of her couldn’t cure.
Gravitating glass brim to lips, spiced bourbon whiskey washed hastily past lush pouts. Concavity would not return to bar top until it’s contents rendered empty. Polishing off lowball, Ava slid the baron crystal in the bartender’s direction and nodded for another. Her gaze tapered back to friendly acquaintance and she decided to hold off on satisfying his curiosity. If he wanted an honest answer, he’d have to respond to a simple, singular question.
“Think I should ‘least know someone’s name before I go on blabbin’ 'bout how I was thrown behind bars, don’t you?” Azures met counterparts and head slightly canted. “Tell you what, you tell me your name an’ take a wild guess. Get it right an’ I drink, get it wrong an’ you drink.” Hopefully he could easily surmise the concept of the game she was initiating. May as well do something entertaining to pass the time.
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