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"Hey, who said anything about problems?" She replies innocently-or rather, as innocently as possible for her. She gives him a cool, slow smile, arching up out of the chair in a feline manner, making sure to strain her baby-blue t-shirt--which reads "99% Angel, 1% Devil" on the front in glittering letters--over her considerably "ample" curves, and flashing her navel ring (which is, ironically enough, in the shape of a snowflake).
"I'm here to offer you some...assistence." She purrs, laying a hand with long, blue-painted nails on his bicep and giving it a squeeze--not hard, but not too gentle either. She leans in close, green eyes glowing.
"Surely a tough, strong guy like you wants to be back on his feet, kicking ass and taking names as soon as possible?"
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He's wiser than I thought, she realizes in frustration. For one who has never met the Sidhe before, he's cautious. She knows he considers her to be evil, but the shirt, aside from being ridiculous, has its kernel of truth. She's not evil, per se, just no goody-two-shoes.
"Yes well, I have my motivations for what I do, as do you I'm sure. You should consider yourself lucky I don't just dispatch out outright; wounded and vulnerable as you are," she sneers at this comment, her face then regaining a mask of calm, but her eyes betray the satisfaction she would gain from doing such a thing.
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She knows the answer is not any of those, but wants to draw things out as long as possible. After all, mind games are one of her favorite pasttimes.
She lets out a small snort of derision, directed toward the Church comment, not him.
"Ah, but how much power do they really give you, when you think about it."
Of course, with her he would probably have even less, but she's not about to tell him that. It's not what she's offering anyway.
"Simply accept my offer, and whatever..."incentive" you require shall be yours," she murmurs, lightly resting her hands on his chest.
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He's agreed to help her already, as far as Sidhe bargaining is concerned. The moment he uttered the word "yes", he was hers. She can't hurt him, however much she may want to, since the point is to get him better and out there tracking down whatever has the balls to run amok in Winter's territory. But ooh, does she want to hurt him...
She lets out some of her power, dropping the temperature, and reaches out, delicately placing a hand on his morphine drip and freezing the precious liquid inside.
"It's Ice Lady, for your information," she replies frostily.
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She lets out a full-throated laugh at his demands.
"I don't remember ever offering more than a one-time encounter. You're a pretty nice-looking guy, don't get me wrong, but you get one go, that's it. A deal's a deal, after all."
Of course, she never specifically stated that she would be the one providing the incentive, just that she would give him what he needed to heal faster. She could always send Jenny in to do the job for her. But again, the idea is to make him better, and Jenny has a tendency to get a little...rough.
"Besides," she adds coyly, "the mere prospect of a night with me should be incentive enough to get you back on your feet." Because she isn't exactly reluctant about the idea of providing it herself, either. A girl's got needs after all.
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She sits back in the chair and reclines, putting her feet up on the edge of the bed and twirling a lavender dreadlock around her fingers.
"Confused? I thought I'd made things crystal clear," she replies with a bemused expression. She's been nothing of the sort, and she knows it.
"Look, to be quite frank, something I rarely am, I really am here to employ your services. And, in return, I will give you my services--Hell I'll fuck you back to last Wednesday, Helsing, if that's what you really want. All I'm sayin' is I fail to see how that's going to help you get your ass out of this dump sooner. If anything, it'll leave you even more bedridden." She grins, then fluidly gets to her feet and crosses to the narrow window. They're up several stories.
"In case you aren't aware, you're dealing with the Winter Court, bud, and all verbal contracts are legally and magically binding. You were officially within my employ, and therefore, under my power, the moment you said "I think something can be arranged, YES." She emphacizes this last word, and turns sharply on her combat boots to face him. "If I wanted to, I could make you get up out of that bed, broken leg and all, and hurl yourself out that window. but that would be rather counter-productive, so I won't." But she could anyway, if provoked enough. There are others who would be more than willing to make a deal with her, more than enough humans who lust for power, money, sex.
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