Black Widow

*a fair, tall woman with tumbling dark hair put up halfway in a bun, with a little comb inside of it, gives a cool, measuring look* They call me the Black Widow. *the woman smiles, in a way reminiscent of a smirk, her voice much more husky then you would have thought from simply looking at her*

Right, yer real name?

*laughs throatily* Wouldn't you like to know, darlin'. *isn't stupid enough to go around telling people that her name is Eloisa Mehring, especially considering the fact that she's the late Donavan Mehring's widow*

Shoa . . . age?

24, if you believe it. *is actually 24, but most don't believe it because she looks older for some reason* *perhaps it's the air of sophistication she holds, or the maturity in her voice and movements*

Appearance? *gives you a once over and smirks*

*elegantly arches an eyebrow at Daley* Darlin', go ahead and look. Just don't touch, 'cause believe me, you couldn't afford me. *isn't actually a prostitute, though some might confuse her with one - prostitutes don't marry and then kill the people they've slept with* *stands 5'7", with a willowy figure, and piercing green eyes, looking striking with dark waves and hourglass figure* *she always wears a black dress, which is much to fancy for this establishment, and she considers it somewhat of a joke: Black Widow, black dress, dead husband, black dress*

What's yer story?

I'm here . . . I win money . . . I go home. That's all there is to it. *she doesn't gamble for the money* *could be called "addicted" to gambling, and from her last few conquests, she doesn't really need the money she wins, but she loves the rush of it*

Dat da one yer tellin' da bulls?

The "bulls"? I don't tell them anything... *eyes flash as she smiles smugly* they'd have to catch me for that. *she has never once been caught for anything she's ever done, for there never seemed to be enough evidence against her, and how could they arrest a poor widow?*

Single tanight, or datin'?

*looks up and down Daley, partly with appreciation, and part with amusement* Widowed, actually. *her lips curve into a seductive smile* I guess that means single, tonight.

Any weapons? Ya drop 'em on da table.

*reaches to the bun of the top of her head and pulls out the comb, which is actually a small knife, with the decoration of a comb as a hilt* You aren't going to tell anyone about my little hiding place, are you, darlin'? *pouts at Daley a little*

What's yer game?

Anything and everything, darlin'. Though I'm rather fond of dog fights. *is rather sadistic when it comes to that sort of things, and has even raised a few blood thirsty dogs herself, paying trainers to make them lust for the kill* But poker is a close second.

Anythin' else we should know?

*licks her lips and leans forward with every word* I was just wondering if I could . . . *pauses a few inches away from Daley's mouth* Get the hell past here already? I've been standing here for the longest time, and I'd hate to have complain to Beale about his employees. *wouldn't really, but likes leading people on* *waves as she sashays past Daley* Bye, now.