It's funny how someone can think they are so under control, while their emotions are gearing up for a monstrous betrayal. While moping away from the Inn, Isuelt replayed the evening's events and desperately tried to grasp just what had gone wrong. She had stopped in for a drink and a round of friendly banter, just as she usually did. But this night left a stain on her conscience, as well her mood. The rain weighting down her clothing was a physical metaphor for her sinking sentiments.

It all began innocently enough. There had been a newcomer, and quite a pretty young one, at the bar, "Tanya." Isuelt and Jewell had been engaging the girl in gently teasing theories about men. Jewell had commented on how kissing men was fun and should be done often, but for being married. Isuelt should have bitten her tongue there, but the whiskey in her system coaxed out the comment, "Well, why don't you just send him off to sea. It worked for Des." And from there, there really was no turning back. True it was an off-color comment, even for the seething tongue of Isuelt. A pregnant pause in conversation alerted Isuelt to the fact that all had heard, and understood her nasty remark. Jewell had quickly come to Tera's defense, explaining that one must do what it takes to get through a crisis. She had said that, "Everyone needs someone to love, even physically." Of course, Isuelt's color began to rise as she barked at Jewell for the better part of the next twenty minutes about the sacred vow of marriage and the mockery of those vows by Tera. To all of which Jewell calmly and coolly replied, "Who cares?" The Scathacian's temper boiled over at that point, and Jewell bore the burden of the majority of it. Grem and Tanya fell uncomfortably silent; while a weary traveler asking for a drink was doled out his share of the woman's rage, as well.

As she wiped some of the rain from her brow, her boots continuing to take her to the Hands Over Hollywood Cafe, she pondered what exactly had caused her cease-fire. Isuelt had left the confrontation with Jewell (of more accurately, herself, since Jewell was the innocent bystander), and found herself in the powder room, splashing cold water on her face. As she looked into the small, dingy mirror upon the wall, she slowly came to her senses. She knew why she had blown up as she did, and she knew she had to apologize to Jewell. However, as she gathered her wits and her pride to offer a hearty, "I'm sorry," Jewell was no where to be seen. Grem had said she left suddenly, and Isuelt heaped a touch more guilt into her pack.

So, Des and Gav were getting married...


There was just something so...weird...about it. Jean's life had not ended but several weeks ago and most of those who frequented the Inn were quieted as they kept their disapproving sentiments to themselves. Still, what was even stranger was Tera's behavior about the impending nuptials.

Isuelt had laid into Des not two days ago. She couldn't help it. It was as if the barrage begun with Jewell had picked up ferocity, and came to a head when Des had jovially proclaimed her engagement. Come to think of it, she really hadn't planned on letting Des have it. It was just that Tera Destre's "devil may care" attitude about getting married so quickly after the death of her supposed beloved husband, made Isuelt think that the Devil really might have something to do with it, after all. At least...a devil.

After a few conversations with some friends, she began to wonder just what in the hell Gavilean had over Des. She really didn't know him that well, and she had heard that he and Des had some sort of relationship in the past. But to completely erase a grieving widow's memory and transform her grief into the carefree giggle of a schoolgirl? It just wasn't natural. Isuelt wasn't necessarily a suspicious person, but she was a sharp cookie. And she had a nose for sniffing out trouble. Frankly, this whole Des-Gav wedding stunk of a whole cookie jar of trouble.

The moment the door closed, Keaton's raised voice, however muffled, could be heard through it. Though as their footsteps carried them further into the alley, his voice trailed away, leaving the Inn patrons to a bit of well-deserved peace and quiet.

The night air was cool, but was it cool enough to still a hot-headed Scathachian? That was Keaton?s aim as he paused and turned to Isuelt. The hot ash from his cigarette reached his fingers, and he dropped it at once, and ground it out under his heel. "Just what in the hell was all that, Issy?"

?What the hell did you want me to do? Sit there and smile and be all, ?Oh, I'm so happy for you both.? That's bullshit and you know it!?

"It doesn't matter if it is bullshit!" He quickly lit up another cigarette, and then offered one to her, though his voice was still raised. "What's bullshit is judgin' people for who they choose to love."

She grabbed the cigarette, and she began to raise her own voice, ?Who they choose to love? C?mon, Keaton, that is just not right!?

?Listen, would I pull a stunt like that? No, but if anyone else does, yes, even the widow of a friend, it's their business. I'm not holdin' anyone's love to the honor of a grave - people can do what they like about it, no matter what I like." He lit the cigarette for her, and leaned up against the wall. ?Des is gonna choose her own path, and this is it! Even if she and Gav are sappy, fallin' head over heels and marryin' on a rebound, if that be the case, whose business is it but theirs?"

As Isuelt momentarily forgot that she didn?t smoke, she took a deep inhale off of the cigarette, and was taken by a fit of coughing. And it seemed, thankfully so, to take her attention briefly away from the matter at hand. She threw the cigarette at the ground as if the vile thing had purposely caused her pain. After she slowed her coughing fit, she took a ragged breath, and looked dejectedly at Keaton. Her voice was so soft, almost defeated, ?You're right.? Her expression softened, she didn't much look like herself. She knew she was heading for a place she hated, so she looked at the wall, rather than Keaton. A heavy exhale and her head hung down a bit. Gavilean was right, Isuelt was jealous. But not of Tera being with Gavilean, she was jealous that she never found anything like that after her own husband died, she never allowed herself to find that. And now, she was just so bitter and full of rage that she knew she would never find that, even if it bit her on the nose. Isaac would have done anything for her, and if she had met him earlier, something might have developed. But, what did she do? She pushed him away. And Scorpion? Well...if there had ever been a perfect match for her it was him. And where was he? Back in Metro. She just couldn't seem to let herself be happy with him.

Keaton watched her and knew something else was going on. He spit out the cigarette - that was three wasted in the space of a few minutes - and moved to her, his hand rested on her shoulder. "Issy..." He was only a musician, a guitarist, but his grip was strong. "C'mere..."

She looked to Keaton, her resolve tried to make a comeback. She hated feeling weak and vulnerable, she had trained her whole life to not feel this way. But his big brown eyes and strong hands won out. What was
the harm in taking shelter with a friend? She sighed and lowered her head to his shoulder. He looked down at her, his eyes kind, his hands rested on her shoulders, and then he enfolded her in his arms. Just stood there with her, holding her. Isuelt buried her face in his chest, her arms curled up so that her hands gripped his shoulders from behind. Her sagging form betrayed the strength in her fingertips as she held on to him.

Keaton rubbed her back slowly, and petted her hair. He kindly let her take comfort in his embrace. ?It?s gonna be okay, Issy.? It could have been a sniff that was heard from the hardened woman. Isuelt took a moment to catch her breath , then she slowly raised her head. Keaton lowered his eyes to her face as she looked up at him.

Her raspy voice was barely above a whisper, ?This....this will just be our little secret, right?? And in the poor lighting of the alleyway, her dark eyes took comfort in the fact that they could mask the pools gathered there.

"Aye..." He smiled. "I won't tell a soul that Issy, the Scathachian, is kind." A grin, as he alluded to the promise he made to her only several days before.

She then offered a softer version of that performance grin that the tavern patrons usually saw. She leaned forward and gave him another warm hug, her voice rustling against the fabric of his shirt, ?I owe you, then.?

Keaton gave her another gentle squeeze, and lowered a kiss to her forehead. "Maybe,? he smiled. "Might call it even, though, after giving you that cig. You dinna seem to enjoy that very much."

Isuelt kept that smile on her lips, ?Yeah, I kinda forgot I didn't smoke. My husband did, but I never much cared for it.? He released the embrace, and let his hands linger a little while on her elbows. His lips began to mouth in surprise at her words, but they stilled again as an understanding dawned on him. About everything.

Another sniff as she straightened up and ran a gloved hand over her eyes. Keaton?s hands fell back to his sides, and he drew out the pack of cigarettes. He looked thoughtfully at it, then looked to Isuelt again, ?What happened??

She looked down and smirked. She bit at her bottom lip, her head nodding, ?Yeah, I knew that was probably coming.? Her dark gaze rose to meet his, ?I'd tell ya to have a seat, but I don't think the street is that clean back here.? She drew a deep breath and let it out. ?What happened...? Well, about ten years ago, I was hired to kill a man.?

Keaton leaned, arched one leg up to prop his foot back against the wall, arms folded, and watched her quietly. The Scathachian continued, ? I staked him out, learned what I could in order for it to be a clean hit....and like a dolt, I fell in love with him.?

His lips flickered into a smile.

She shrugged, ?I couldn't kill him. Luckily, he seemed to fall for me, too.? She matched his smile, as she started to become lost in her tale. ?Anyway, we were married....lasted about two years.? She nodded, as if taking mental inventory, ?Went through hell and back with a lot of stuff.?

As she told her story, his eyes remained on her, but his fingers were hard at work picking at, squeezing, and otherwise destroying every cigarette in the pack.

?Two hurdles, actually. One, I can't have any kids and two, he wanted to join up and get involved in a war that I knew was a losing battle. Well, we got over the first hurdle pretty well. He didn't leave me. But the second...? she had to take a pause here. She stared at a particularly interesting spot on Keaton's shirt, willing herself to continue with her catharsis. The Scathachian's voice seemed smaller somehow, ?I couldn't let him go into battle alone. So, I went with him.? She chuckled to herself, then sobered, ?I know he was probably worried about me, but truth was, I was a better fighter than he was.? She blinked and looked into Keaton's face, ?He fell in battle...next to me. I was fighting and couldn't do anything to save him. I saw the whole thing happen, I just couldn't get there in time.? With each blink, her dark eyes strayed farther from his, until she was gazing at the ground.

Keaton?s eyes fell for a moment, just a little, before he returned them to hers. The whole idea of losing a loved one to violence was something intimately close to his heart right now, and to Trixie's. He leaned off of the wall and took slow steps forward, crossing to her.

She looked to him, her attention snapped back to the present, ?I know, I know...it's no reason to blast Des and Gav.?

Keaton touched her shoulders, ?I'd go speak to Tera. Just her... explain why you feel what you feel, why you did what you did, and apologize. Gav, I couldn't give a damn about. I have half a mind to chew him out over how he behaved."

But Isuelt shook her head, ?I don't know.... I really don't think that would be such a good idea. You heard her in there. She doesn't want me to speak to her ever again. And besides, she thinks I'm a bitter and jaded old woman. Which...apparently, I guess I am.?

"No, Issy..." A soft smile. "...You're brave. You're very brave, admitting wrongdoing, and showing yourself to me like you did."

There was a weak lilt to her shoulders, ? Eh...? Then a big sigh. She did somehow feel....cleaner, lighter.

He grinned, and tilted his head slightly. "One other thing. You're not old." The grin turned to a wink.

She chuckled, ?Oh, I'm older than most of the flitting young things that parade through that place.? She thumbed over her shoulder. "But, I guess that really doesn't matter.?

"Issy, love, I'm somewhere in the neighborhood of four hundred twenty years old, but I still get around."

And as the sun never fails to rise in the east, the gypsy's smile returned triumphantly to her face, ?Okay, well...then in that case, I feel much better.?

Keaton grinned, "You wanna head back in, have a drink?"

She ran her hand through her hair, her fingers stopped midway to scratch her head. ?Yeah, yeah I think I can do that.? She paused and looked at him, ?You're a hell of a guy, you know that??

He blushed a bit, his eyes looked away a moment, though he smiled, "I just try to help out, is all. But thanks, Issy."

?Yeah, yeah...modesty is over-rated, cher,? she leaned in and landed a kiss on his cheek and linked arms with him. ?Shall we venture forth into the great unknown? Or as some like to call it, 'alchie heaven'.?

He patted her arm, "Let's shall." And venture forth they did, right back in.