Why Should I worry?

Eliana sometimes came to the underground. It didn't have many innocent souls, but it was one of her places, y'know? How could she pass up the opportunity to come here once in awhile?

Usually, when she did, she visited random shops or the Cross Fox. Tonight she was doing the former. She didn't need anything, but she enjoyed the attention she got. Of course, the violence of the place was the runner-up on her list of 'why I like this place so much.' It was a long list.

She was standing on a street corner, right under a flicking street light. She was dressed in her usual punk rock attire, but she'd opted to leave the jacket at home, leaving her in a thin tank top and tight fit leather pants.

This was important because it meant she didn't look like your regular prostitute, but she was standing in that general location, and so people would stop. Some of them just stared, trying to figure out what she was doing, but others would ask her 'how much?' and Eliana's reply was always the same.

She would grin, showing teeth, and say, "never enough."

Because almost everyone who asked her this question was drunk, mostly they just grunted and continued to the next girl, because the answer confused them. Eliana found it hilarious.

And no, she wasn't standing here to make some extra bucks, she was a high-end girl, dammit. She just wanted something interesting to happen, and a small, attractive woman standing on a street corner seemed a good way to prompt that.

@Arcadia

If a guy keeping his head low and wearing a pitch black jacket wasn't exciting and fun, Eliana didn't know what was! He seemed like trouble, and she loved trouble.

She turned and followed him. She wasn't the stealthiest about it. She had no reason to be. Wasn't it always creeper when someone trailed you casually? She wondered if this dude would be freaked out by some chick following him. Most men weren't.

She kept her head low too, just to seem more suspicious and kept her hand in her pocket like maybe she had a knife.

It probably wasn't the best idea, Eliana could die by any ordinary means and death did hurt like a son of a bitch, but Eliana rarely cared whether her fun ideas were safe or not.

Eliana was standing at the start of the alleyway. The darkness within had made her entire front shadowed over while her back was illuminated by one of the streetlamps.

"You know, it's not safe to walk these streets at night all alone."

She said this in the creepiest voice she could manage. Which was, at least, decent. She was a demon after all.

While Eli had no intention of doing anything to this man (sadism wasn't her thing), she did enjoy scaring people. Unfortunately, she thought this would have been ten times scarier if she was a man. Woe is her.

"A poor girl like myself, you mean the attractive kind?" she asked with a grin. Eliana had stepped one foot into the darkness of the alley.

Maybe she would have been scared if she knew she'd stay dead, or if she wasn't a masochist.

She hadn't expected this man to be afraid of her. Because seriously, who would? The people around here were fuckin' insane, and so fear was a rare thing.

But, Eliana loved to act and she loved to play. So when he said 'see things you're not supposed to' and drug his dagger along the wall, she took a staggered step back as if afraid.

"Hey, I didn't see nothin' man," she said with nervous laughter.

Eliana's breath hitched when the tip of her nose was licked. She tried to make it come out like 'God I'm so afraid of what might happen to me right now' and not so much 'fuck I'm totally turned on right now.' Maybe the translation was lost.

Eli tucked her chin down to hide her neck from the weapons. She took a slight step closer to the light of the desolate street. Her face wasn't so much white as it was without color.

"Back off man, someone could walk by at any second. You wouldn't wanna be taken in, would you?" Her voice wavered with the meek threat.