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Cat and Mouse was an interesting little place. Despite the town's small size, the bar was actually quite larger than it had been in Flax. The place had slowly started to agitate the twenty-two year old though, with all the puffs of smoke being blown toward her. Still, being a bartender was what the female did best and Cat and Mouse was really the only bar around here. She couldn't help but thank the heavens when she had gotten the job and had done so again when she found out there weren't any strippers or hookers in the area. The female had never really understood why people would willingly just give their body away like that...

It was quite obvious what Ms. Zenzi Beddor thought of strippers/hookers. She was considerably blunt about her opinion anyway. Then again, the adult had never been the sweetest of people in the first place.

Blue eyes scanned the drinks, wondering where she had placed the Southern Comfort bottle. Finally locating the drink, a slim hand reached out and pulled it toward her before she popped it open and added the finishing touch the Slow Comfortable Screw beverage one of the customers had ordered. With a gruff thanks, the older man that had asked for the drink left and headed toward other buddies. Watching him leave, Zenzi smirked and crossed her arms. The man had already attempted to use pick-up lines with the female, but he'd been shot down quite quickly with malicious remarks.

Another job well done, if you asked her.

Slipping a hand in the back pocket of her the dark jeans that hugged her slim waist, Zenzi pulled out a piece of gum and popped it in her mouth, chewing the stick of spearmint slowly. She had complete access to all the alcohol her heart desired, but Z wasn't allowed to drink on the job. It was torturous, mixing the alcoholic beverages for everyone else and not having the ability to take even a sip. She had learned, however, that chewing on gum during her job kept her from attacking the vodka and rum bottles every night she worked.

Zenzi tugged the bottom of her simple gray shirt, walking towards another customer. At his request, the female scoffed, but she went and started mixing up the Blowjob Shot he had demanded. The way people hit on most of the bartenders was somewhat amusing. By ordering drinks with sexual names, did the customer actually expect to arouse her?

Honestly.

Adding the whipped cream on top, Zenzi placed the shot-glass in front of the man before turning her back to him, obviously much more interested in the drinks than him. He took the hint and quickly skuttled away, disappointed. If he wanted a lay, he could find someone else in the bar.

Tucking a stray lock of black hair behind her ear, she glanced over to the seat where the bouncer sat and waved her over. It was obvious he wanted to talk, as the workers weren't allowed to drink and from what she knew, this man didn't have a night off.

" 'Ello, pet, you must be new. Haven't seen you around before. I'm Stryker."

A black brow arched up in slight curiousity, looking down at his hand before looking back at the male himself. "Name's Zenzi. Don't call me pet," she told him, the last few words coming out more as a warning than a piece of advice. The female made no motion to shake the out-stretched hand in front of her and she simply crossed her arms once more, watching the blond.

Hopefully Mr. Stryker wasn't expecting too much of a conversation.

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Those claws of hers were always needle sharp, unless you had miraculously found yourself in her good graces. At least Stryker had been polite and hadn't immediately started to hit on her, or else this kitten would have pounced on his ego and possibly ripped it shreds, just like the others.

To be quite frank, had the blond even mentioned that she had dampened his mood, Zenzi would have been rather satisfied.

"Sorry, then. Just habit, I s'pose."

Shrugging, the raven-haired female eyed a nearby customer down another drink. The conversation would be constantly interrupted, but that was the way things were around here. Stryker would probably land up having to toss out a few pricks and she'd have to stop serving a few of the others. "I couldn't care less if its a habit or not. Just don't call me that and I won't have to call you blondie."

At the question of where her name came from, Zenzi scowled darkly before grabbing an empty cup and begining to wipe it clean. "Daphne gave me that name. Wouldn't be surprised if she was drunk off her ass when she figured out a name for me." As for origin, the female had no idea. She had never met a person with the same name, but if she ever did then Z would have to ask them.

Pouring some dark rum in one of the empty shotglasses, she swirled it around a little before raising it to her lips and drinking it quickly. The alcohol burned her throat, but Zenzi didn't wince. She'd gotten used to the burn that rum and whiskey left. "Sometimes I wish the vodka was closer to me," she muttered, not quite speaking to Stryker yet not really speaking to herself either.

It was the first drink she had had that night, considering that Zenzi lacked much control when it came to booze. If it was there, she could only ignore it for so long. After that, who knew what could happen? The female was smart enough not to go overboard with the sneaks though, considering she had no intention of getting fired.

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Comparing Chris James and Zenzi Beddor together was actually a common thing, considering how close the girls were. Though they may not have looked a thing alike, their personalities were quite similar. After all, the two females had met at Tough's and started a semi-civil conversation when a mutual enemy had come along and Chris had begun muttering what kind of torture techniques would be useful. Alone, each of the girls were dangerous bitches, but together? Havoc lurked in every corner when they were in the same room.

"Sounds fair, p-- I mean, Zenzi."

The twenty-two year old had narrowed her eyes for a split second when he almost called her 'pet', but the lucky male was able to catch himself and use her given name.

At least he was learning quickly.

"Excuse me."

Zenzi shrugged in reply, not caring whether or not Stryker disappeared for one reason or another. Arching a dark brow, her gaze went over to where the fight had started and a slight interest sparked up. It seemed as if the blond was about to return to his seat when a large smack was heard through out the room and Zenzi let out a low growl, glaring at the man who had just hit the women he'd been arguing with. "Bastard," she hissed, slamming the shot glass down on the counter and surprising a few of the customers.

To be quite frank, the movement had been quite sudden. Quickly, Stryker had punched the prick and was dragging him outside while muttering curses that Z couldn't hear. A throaty laugh escaped her lips and the female shook her head, pouring a drink for the female that had been hit and handing it to her with a sympathetic look.

"Not bad, if I do say so myself," Zenzi told the blond as he sat back down, deciding that he wasn't too annoying if he could kick ass like that.

"Sorry 'bout that. Now, Daphne? Doesn't sound like you much like her."

damn.
She'd thought too soon. Scowling at the very mention of her "mother's" name, Zenzi glared at the counter. "Not at all. That woman was, no is, a whore," the female hissed darkly. Z had no idea if Daphne was really still alive or not; she'd left the family years ago. Still, if the barista ever caught sight of her mother, there would be an extra death in the family tree.

And use of stilettos.

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"Well, then. I guess that settles that discussion. How long have you been working here, then, Zenzi?"

Fxckin' smart man. Others had continued to pry on the subject and that was one thing you did not do with Z. Simply talking about any member of her immediate family annoyed her to no end and whoever asked would have to shut up or she'd have one of her 'temper tantrums', as her brother had called them. Those usually consisted of throwing glasses/vases/expensive things and a good snarl.

She wasn't even that touchy when PMSing.

"Not long. I've been in the bartending business for a year or so though. Started once I got out of jail."

A light shudder ran up her spine, remembering her year in prison. It was certainly not an experience she'd like to go through again, even though she'd probably do the same thing if it happened once more. After all, what kind of friend sat there and let their friend get raped?

Well, ex-friend now.

"Y'know, you remind me of someone. She's rather like you, in a way."

"Oh really? Who?" Zenzi questioned, arching a dark brow up in slight curiousity. The raven-haired female had a slight clue as to who it might be - Chris - but you never know. After all, Deathagos was rather large and Stryker probably knew much more people than Zenzi.

ooc;; D:
God.
I could have sworn I posted beforehand.
-smacks hand- Bad Meranii!
Anyway, here you go.
Sorry that's it's horribly short. -sobs and flutters away-