Snippet #2141070

"Tables!" Siren yelped, the barrel now empty.

"Tables!" The crowd echoed her drunk nonsense.

"When I grow up, I shall be a fisherwoman or the queen!" She cheered, waving her arms upwards and down in a curved motion. Her gestures roughly translating into 'Give me another barrel, my minions. I will sleep with all your sons.'

"You sure that's a good idea, princess? I'm not cleaning you up if you pass out in front of some perverted, drunk men," Evi sighed as Mick slapped Siren on the back, handing her another barrel of whisky. Sitting the barrel on her crossed legs, Siren wrapped her arms around the large wooden container that was taller than her head. A gunshot sliced through the air, followed by a small squeal of shock. No one gave the shooter a second glance - accidental slips on triggers were the norm in Lion's Den.

After a moment, there were loud cheers as people watched 'Dude' pummel Nial. Siren was oblivious, still trying to uncap the small hole in the barrel by putting the cap between her teeth and strangely turning the barrel.

There was the cock of a pistol and an eerie silence as the bounty hunters watched the two men with anticipation. They were strange in the way they viewed danger. Rarely did the concept of death and mortality shake their foundations - they believed they were invincible and that everyone else was, too. Bounty hunters were independent people, rarely did they work in a team and they almost never watched each other's backs. There was respect - and respect was all there was. Well, perhaps a hint of lust.

"My name is Duke Enzberg... My wife seems to find it funny to call me Dude,"

"It is Dude!" Siren called with a moment of clarity - pausing in her unbarrelling of the barrel from the cap.

"-maybe it's a nickname thing I don't know... How long have I been a bounty hunter? All of my damn life son... Where was I born? In fucking Triveila!... And you son will become the five thousand six hundred and ninety eighth bastard I have killed if you don't get off your damn ass and get out of my face."

There was the patter of racing footsteps, the creek of the heavy doors opening and the loud bang of it slamming against each other. Then, there was silence. A muscled arm went around Layla's shoulders and ale was called for. Siren was still unbarrelling the cap.

"What? The man was checking out my wife..."

"Juuude," Siren whined, shoving the barrel to the side. Pulling the black and gold eyed man onto the bar, she crawled on top of him, nuzzling his neck and running her hands over the skin under his shirt. Siren sat back on his lap, her legs on either side of his - and pulled the bottom of his tight shirt up over his head. "You know what would be really funny, Jude?" she whispered, taking his lower lip between her teeth. "If this wasn't a dream and I was actually drunk," she mumbled, leaning over him. "And I screamed out "I'm sleeping with freaking Omega of the Wolf Pack!" and they came at you with pitch forks." Siren pulled back from his lips to look at Jude with glazed eyes.

"That would be funny, wouldn't it?"

"Get off of her, you thief!" Evi shouted. More screams came and Siren was roughly pulled off of Jude. Ow, that hurt, she thought with a frown. Then, she realised over the chaos of the Lion's Den - Oh crap, that hurt.

The drawing of swords and the click of guns sliced the air. Heavy, drunk men shook the building and women flicked their iron fans with a sweep of their wrists. Siren was pushed back, Mick held her and mumbled comforting words as she stared at Jude with complete shock. Jude - scarred and tattooed with a massive bounty on his head.

"Get him!"