[ There was the same dry laugh, devoid of any true amusement. Some how, disappointed for a moment though she could not place why. ] Of course you do. And the last man that hurt my women was tossed out on the street with a knife in his ribs.

[ No one touched that which was hers. No one harmed them, for they were hers, and it was something like caring, something like savage possession that marked them as untouchable by the rest of the world. ] They're all yours, for the night that you choose.

[ A smile was all the answer he got. Still predatory, her pulse beating in her throat. It was unnatural -- and it was perhaps why they called her so. A vain, cruel, vicious woman. With a bloodlust that belong to the torturers of the tower, rather than to any lady of the street.

But the fact remained the same. It made her feel so alive. Burning and perfect and out of control. Made her giddy like some women blushed over their lovers. ]

For now, perhaps. Whatever you and yours plan is your business until it comes upon my streets. [ Carved out with a rusty blade, but all hers. ]

As you wish. [ She swept him a curtsey, mocking as it was. Then she stepped around him and his claws, ducking past him on sure feet. A dance, as she twisted and skipped -- heaven knows she'd always been fast where most took too much time. Lead them all a merry chase. ] It's past the docks, in the back alleys there.

[ There were things she wasn't telling him, in the end. Things that made her so particularly cruel that no one but a monster would do for it. She wanted him to know fear, before he died, and Greed was so much fear to behold when the darkness took him. With that thought, she hummed as she opened the door. Like it was the first of May and the young girls danced as she did now.

One quick flick of her wrist dismissed her men from her side, and she looked over her shoulder, watching and waiting for him. ]