this time wrong feels { r i g h t } // Geebs, Blitz

It's another cold night in District Nine, but your fine suits keep you warm as well as the cigarette balanced between your fingers. Stepping out into the fresh snow, you spare a second to frown at your now drenched pant cuffs before starting down to the back alleys of the District. A drag on the cigarette and your lungs were full of fire and power. The kinds of sorry characters you pass strolling through the district are enough to make you take a detour to avoid coming anywhere close to them. However sometimes life calls for necessity.

Then, turning a corner you spot the most exquisite being. At first it seemed as if she was fire personified, but no it was a girl with hair like flames created in the Games- like none you could ever see in nature. Tall with nice curves, and a dress to show them off. The girl approached you, eyes as large as saucers. She knew him by name- no surprise, he was a popular man in the district- but what a horrid tongue she used. All harsh tones and lazy pronunciation. A quick up and down glance of the girl and you let a smile catch your lips.

"And what will you do with my time, little girl?" setting the cigarette between your lips, you study the girl's dress and wonder how, exactly, she was able to afford it if her accent told you anything of her class.

The instant the girls says the word "ill" you begin to tune out. Another street rat who wants money from you, but this girl didn't look too... ratty. So you stand there and listen, letting the smoke from your cigarette waft into her face and let her do her whole speech. Then your attention is peeked at the end with the "services" the girl could do are left unexplained. Cocking an eyebrow at the girl, you press your finger tips beneath her chin lifting her face up to get a better look at it. Such neat eyebrows, not the kind of bushy things factory mice have.

"Your services sound intriguing girl, but drop the whole sick mom bit it just wastes my time. Besides I don't do charity," shaking your ashes at the girl, you cross your arms over your chest scrutinizing the stranger. "Now what do you really want my money for?"

Sighing, you let your eyes roll around in your skull before settling on the girl again. "Alice, was it? I'm gonna let you on a little secret," you let an arm wrap around the girl's shoulders, pulling her in close. Your cheeks nearly touched as you paused to take another drag from your cigarette. Blowing the smoke out of your nose, you run your eyes over the streets around the two of you, making sure you are alone.

"It's a little piece of advice that made me the man I am right now, and I think it could help you out of your little jam," tenderly brushing the girl's hair back, you place our lips right by the girl's ear, nearly kissing the flesh there. "No one gives a shit."

A cocked eyebrow. A thin smirk. The glow of an almost finished cigarette. This night was supposed to be all business for you, but it looks like there was time for some pleasure as well. This girl, this Alice was so desperate for your money that'd she do anything. Desperate people could be dangerous things, or they could be useful. It seems this girl fell to the latter of that spectrum, which could make for an interesting evening. Taking a step back you look the girl up and down before settling on a decision.

"Drop the accent, try to stand up straight ans you got yourself a deal," flicking your cigarette in the snow, you start for your original destination when you stepped out of the house. Only this time, you have something to look forward to besides beating idiots at gambling. "This way, Alesha, or do you not want all my glorious, dirty money?"

As you reach the gambling pits of District Nine, the girl chimes in behind you. For a while there you had forgotten about towing the girl behind you. She brought up what "services" she would be using tonight and you whip around on the door step of a gambling den to look at her. "Well, Allison, that all depends on how much money you need?"

Knocking on the door, a slot opens up and a pair of eyes skim over your face. Soon the door flies open and the warm light and loud noises of the den fills your veins with adrenaline. "There's a big difference between "money for food this week" and "money to pay off gangsters who want to kill me" now, be a doll and go in and order me a drink would ya?"

The girl pressed a chilled glass into your hand and your wrist swirls the liquid in the glass before introducing it to your lips. The familiar bite of spirits fills the back of your throat and nostrils. Not too much though, this girl might be of some use after all.

"I want you to stand there and look pretty," you say, another grin tugging at your face. "and I thought I told you to get rid of that accent."

Motioning at the girl's mouth with your drink, before settling into one of the large cushioned chairs. "And, you didn't answer my question from early- how much money are you needing Miss Alice?"

The girl's smile failed for a moment, her body tensing up at your question. How odd, you'd think a factory rat would know exactly how much money she would need if she was going to approach someone as renown as yourself. A mischievous grin took hold of your lips and you stood up from your seat. "Deal. Now because I'm feeling generous, we're going to go in that book room over there and you can take the money out yourself."

Shoving the glass into the girl's hand, you add "you might want some before hand," before starting for the back room used for more carnal desires than gambling and drink. However you can't help but chuckle to yourself, how could the girl possibly know you had nothing but pocket lint in your suit jacket tonight?