Snippet #1792629

CINDER POST

Sucking his teeth, he saw no point in waiting for this woman to take her sweet old time fishing the dice from her bosom. Hand snaking down her blouse, he retrieved the dice and flicked it down the bar. Watching it roll along, his eyes shifted up some and meet the rusty brown eyes of Scarlette. Sure enough, the dice fell just short of her spot, but it didn't stop Cinder from approaching her with those cold eyes of his.

"Heh," he smirked behind the mask that veiled his face. "Would you mind telling those fucktards what the final dice reads?" Leaning in close to her slender body, Cinder straddled his arms around either side of her neck. Fingers sprawled out across the bar's top, he kept his head stationed to her left, which was just out of sight for the men playing the game. "Go on, bitch," he coaxed one final time before he snatched up what was left of her drink. Downing it in seconds, he shot the glass toward the hoard of men that were now approaching his rear flank. Hissing at them, the breathing apparatus made the sound seem almost like that of steam pouring from a teapot.

Not wanting to get caught in a bar fight for winning a rigged dice game, Cinder snatched up his dice and scurried over to the door. Whirling around, he saluted the woman who was still groping herself after being man-handled by such the brute that Cinder was. As his eyes glazed over as the raw wind cast sand into his eyes, he shot his final glance over to Scarlette.

With the door slamming behind him, Cinder took off toward the left. Rounding around the backside of the building, he waited for the angered gamblers to pour out of the bar and run after him. They, of course, did as such, but in their drunken state didn't even notice that he took to hiding. Sly smile coming onto his face, Cinder sauntered back into the bar and placed his fedora on his head at a cocked angle.

"Ah, gotta love them drunken asses," he said grabbing up a stool beside Scarlette and the lady he previously harassed. "Oh, would you look at that. The bar is only full of wenches. Just my fucking luck... to be stuck with God's lesser creation... women." Now, being the man that he was, Cinder meant the women in the bar no disrespect. He just didn't know how to play nice or word things in a gentler manner. But, it was okay. For the most part, the women in this bar knew Cinder and knew that his temper, tongue, and touch was just a part of his less than nurturing upbringing.

As the female bartender brought a scotch to his hands, the soldier cackled. "Drink up, whores. We've only got one life to live so we better plaster ourselves with liquor and forget all about this fucking godforsaken hell we've been forced to endure." Cocking his head back, he downed the glass in a matter of seconds. Slamming it onto the counter, he awaited the bartender to refill his order and to continue doing so until he was forced to be dragged to the inn next door.