As they walked westward towards the Vanderwall Inn, the warming night air played havoc with the dark locks of Isuelt's hair as they strayed from the confines of the leather strap at the nape of her neck. The deep brown tendrils were at the mercy of the breeze, but she cared not. In fact, the tall Scathachian didn't even notice. She was noticing something else far more miraculous. Her steps were keeping pace with one Scorpion Wraitharan once again, and that was worth all the weather in the world.

He had come out of nowhere that night, right into the Inn, looking for her. That letter she had given to Grem to deliver months ago obviously had found its mark. All the way from the grimy, crime-infested, glorious streets of Metro, the Don Mega had come for his gypsy in her hour of need.

The hardened Sister had felt as if she were in a dream for most of this night, Scorp had rendered her near stupefied when he arrived at her table. She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, hit him or scream. So, she did what came naturally to her; she had kissed him. (Much to the general dismay and confusion of her friends.) And now, as they walked back to his room at the swanky Vanderwall, his arm linked in the crook of hers, Isuelt marveled at how "at home" she suddenly felt. It was as if all those years of running had never happened, and the two of them, Scorp and Issy, were back. "The Power Behind The Pack" were reunited once again, and not a day had passed.

She knew that there would be a lot of conversation that went on this night. She knew that Scorp would have a boatload of questions for her, and she knew that she would have to answer. He deserved no less.

Maybe though, just maybe, the inquisition could wait until after they had had a proper reunion.

The imposing duo came up to the Vanderwall, breezed through the door and the reception area, up the stairs and to the double doors of room 17. Isuelt lifted her dark eyes to Scorp, "You always had an amazing sense of timing, you know that?"

The room was no less than she had expected. Scorp always had adored the lap of luxury, especially when looks mattered. The adjoining suite alone was enough to put most of the better rooms in RhyDin to shame.

Still a neat-freak, as well. Isuelt couldn't remember the number of times he had pitched a fit over her dirty leathers being strewn about the bedroom, or filthy rags from polishing her weapons mixed in with his painting supplies or draped over his easel. "Damnit, woman! Keep your oily-ass polish rags out of my f*cking space!" Which usually led to a, "Well then why don't you do something else with your f*cking time besides doodle all over the f*cking place?" A few things were certain about Scorp and Issy; the fights were as explosive and as intense as the sex. There were more than a few people in the Pack who didn't care too much about the two of them being together. Most said they brought out the worst in each other, only a few believed that they also coaxed the best of each other out into the light. Isuelt herself toggled back and forth between the two schools of thought. Though right now, she was a firm patron of the latter.

"I missed you, too, Scorp." The Scathachian gypsy couldn't help the nearly sappy smile that crept onto her lips, so instead she turned her face from the Big Man and commented on the room, "Got to hand it to you, doll, best digs in town...you always seem to find them." Anything to betray the need she felt rising in her to jump into his arms and beg him to take her away from all of this mess. She moved to the small couch and started to unbuckle her weapons, no sense in keeping the twin blades slung to her hips all night, now was there? Isuelt laid the weapons down near the couch and then dropped down onto the plush seat and looked to her "ex...Y and Z" as she had told Eddie.

She watched him, his movements, his expressions, his hesitation. She knew that they had not parted on the best of terms. In fact, she had left him. In the middle of the night. No word as to where she was going, when she would be back, or anything. Typical Illea. Ditch it before it goes wrong. Leave them before they leave you. Run before you feel too much. Isuelt suddenly felt hot, flushed; her face and ears were stinging. She removed her gloves, but instead of placing them neatly, on atop the other on the table as Scorp had done, she flung hers beside her on the couch. Her bare hands rubbed over her face and pulled lightly on her ears. She could feel the pangs of guilt seeping into her features; she was wrong in how she handled things with him, and she knew it.

A quick clear of her throat as she tossed a smile to him. She didn't want to dwell on how she had done a crap job of loving him, if she even dared to use that word. Nor did she want to invite that conversation. At least...not yet. She knew it was coming, she owed him an explanation. Fact was, she owed him a lot more than that.

Her dark eyes couldn't leave him. After three years she had almost forgotten how his gaze could make her feel, not to mention how damn fine he was.

"Really missed you," the usual jovial volume of her voice failed her. She was amazed to hear that the sound coming from her lips was little above a whisper.

In her lifetime, very few things could make the gypsy melt. A great score off a robbery, the sweet swing of her blade when it hit its mark, being right when everyone thought she was wrong, gloating about it. But Scorp's kiss trumped all of those...always had, always would. Her strong fingers curled into a fist, she was fighting to stay in control, keep her emotions in check. Never give away your hand, be it a royal flush or a total bluff, the poker face was what won pots.

Oh, who was she kidding?

Keeping her mouth locked on his, she stood up and placed both hand on the sides of his head. Isuelt walked him back, pushing his form back...back...until the backs of his knees were flush with the edge of the bed. She couldn't get enough of Scorp, it had been years...too many long years. Still gripping onto him, his hair, his shirt, his shoulders, she devoured his mouth until it simply wasn't enough anymore. The leather which spent its life skating over her well-muscled form creaked as she reached for the Don Mega only to thrust him backwards until he fell atop the bed. From this vantage point, the sultry Scathachian looked down at her bookend match. A side smirk licked at her flushed lips as her fingers began pulling at the lacings on her corset.

Arguments and fist fights aside, if one thing could always be counted on with Scorpion and Isuelt, it was a steamy bedroom. And if one more thing could be counted on...it would be the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside of the hotel room door remaining where it was for at least a day and a half.