Want Your Bad Romance

Marla hated people, but she loved the power she had over them. Particularly men. She rarely held any affections for them, not after Luca. She cared for Luca more than she had ever cared for someone. But she knew the perks of pretending to care. And one of those perks was information she could take back to the Death Eaters. The other was... well, power.

She slipped into Blue Moon, under dressed but looking good. She knew what under dressed said to the eligible men. She did not even have to try good and she was still irresistible. She wore tight, dark jeans, a semi skimpy shirt, and a tight, black leather overcoat. Her hair brushed her chin and her eyes looked around for her prey as her finger went to touch the base of the glass that held her alcohol from where she sat at the bar. Who would be the lucky victim, er, man tonight?

Hershel entered the Blue Moon nightclub, the Minister told him to take a break. Talking to the press and watching over Barker really killed a man. He was wearing nicer clothes than usual, however the familiar top hat still sat on his head. He really needed to move on, it had been a few years now. Well since his plot changed anyway. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater. He charmed the hat to look blue to match the sweater. He looked around, the place was rather packed.

He groaned in his head and headed over towards the bar and sat down next to a pretty girl. He ordered a scotch on the rocks and pulled a small bowl of pretzles towards him to munch on. He sighed and put both arms on the counter. Luke had tried to cheer him up but failed, then Rosa insisited on sending him out. Rosa was only fifteen though so she didn't come along. She said she'd babysit Luke if he didn't make it home. But Hershel assured her that he would be home soon.

Marla sat at the bar, drumming her fingertips on the bar- which was severely irritating to the barman, something that pleased Marla immensely- when she felt the added presence of someone to her left. For a moment she continued to look forward, drinking some of her Firewhiskey, before turning in her seat, getting a glance at the stranger.

Marla knew how to judge someone in one glance and she could tell this was someone worth talking to. He looked important and tired. She thought about it for a moment. Seduction or should she play nice and slowly lead him into a trap. She chose the latter. He looked exhausted and seduction only seemed to worry men more. Putting a hand against her ear she said in a raised voice above the music, "You look like you have had a hell of a week. Those little pretzels won't do you any good. They're pretty old." She smiled, holding out her other hand for him to shake. "Hi, I'm Marla."

And you, my friend, are lunch.

Layton looked up slowly from his glass, she was right. The pretzles did taste a little stale, but he took her hand. He smiled weakly at her, "You have no clue," he told her. "I'm Hershel Layton." he said taking pulling from the hand shake. He finished his drink in one gulp, "My boss banned me from the office for the weekend." he told her shaking his head. "Can I get another one?" he asked the bartender pointing to his empty glass. "And this time go easy on the ice." he added. He straightened his hat and his eyes widnened a little when he actually noticed how pretty this lady was.

The dance lights were a little brighter now and he got a full glimpse of her. Of course it had been years since someone actually had him interested. He made sure not to stare and as the bartender placed another drink in front of him he took it in one hand. This one was going to last, there was no need to get drunk right now. "So, what's a pretty woman like yourself doing out on a night like this?" he said, he knew he sounded really lame.

Marla smiled, watching his movements and filing all the little details away into her mind in case she would ever find some use for them, which if anyone could, she could. Tired, had a boss who appreciated his work so much he had to send him away... Or didn't like him... Though the fact that he was exhausted indicated he had worked a long week. And asking for another drink. All this played into Marla's hands. Good.

When he finally took notice of her, she could see the slightest changes in behavior. Sitting straighter, attention engaged. She had gotten his attention. It was easy to keep it. To figure out what use it could be to her was the next step. "Oh, nothing much, seeing what the night life industry has to offer me. Until now, it was not much." She sighed, but her eyes twinkled. "So, tough week? Hope your okay for some fun. Shame to come to Blue Moon tired." She smiled.

Hershel agreed with her, he expected night life to do a person good. But hold up, did she just say 'up until now'? Hershel was a little excited by that actually, but he wouldn't show it. He was trained well to hide emotions and such. He took the first drink of his new scotch, suddenly it tasted better than before. "Yeah, but I suppose it's better than sitting on a bench in an alley alone." he told her. She was drinking firewhisky, she didn't look very old though. Maybe...twenty or twenty-one.

"Yeah, work has been hell these days." he told her. He was still supposed to be hidden from the public. To everyone he was just an assistant to the Minister. His advice giver, the man who took the press away. But he knew soon the Minister would let everyone know. "Do you, uh, want to dance?" he asked her. "As soon as you're done you drink of course." he added as he took another drink of his.

She smiled widely at his words but said nothing, communicating her interest with her eyes instead, which was a lot more powerful then anything words could do. While he thought she was making eyes with him, she was continuing to examine him for any details she might find important. Handsome, clean cut, professional looking. Yes, she had chosen wisely this time. She always did have a knack for deciding who was best suited for her time though.

He said that work had been hell and she noted that this played to her advantage as well. Any slip ups in her act- ha, as if she ever slipped up- would go unnoticed due to exhaustion and the fact that he was probably seeking something fun to make up for the lousy week and well, she had that to offer. It seemed she was right because as she went to drink the last of her Firewhiskey, he asked her for a dance. She set it down and smiled, slipping off her seat and holding out a hand for him to lead her to the dance floor. "Sure." She blinked and smiled.

Layton gulped down the rest of his scotch and got off his own stool. He took her hand and led her towards the dance floor. Well this was certainly exciting, it had been a long time since he had danced last. But it came to him, he took her hips and he felt her arms wrap around his neck. He gently then began to rock back and forth in rythm with the music, her hips followed. He now had a very good viewing position of her, she was young. His assumtion of her being in he twenties was correct. She was very pretty, her face looked smooth. But she was a parygoer and he was almost sure the opposite of what Hershel was actually like. She had very nice legs that fit into the skinny jeans perfectly. However there wasn't much to show up top, but he didn't care.

He decided now was the time for conversation. "So, Marla. What do you do for a living?" he asked her. The music was loud, but he had been to clubs with much louder music. Running the detective angency made up of himself certainly let him go different places.

Marla followed him out to the dance floor, keeping an innocent but playful look on her face rather than her natural expression, which was rather lethal looking. She was playing up on her young age, keeping herself innocent and above any sort of suspicion. Once they found a spot where the could dance she turned to him, slipping her arms around his neck and smiling nicely. For a few moments they concentrated on falling in sync with the music and with each other and once their hips were swinging, the fun began.

He asked her what she did for a living and the lie came easily and without any thought. But she hesitated as though she could not hear him and used this as an excuse to slide her arms closer together and slip closer to him. "I'm a waitress. I'm looking for something better, but that is what I do for now. A few of my friends told me I needed a break and they suggested I come here. Usually I don't come to nightclubs." She smiled at him. "What about you? Are you a regular to these parts?"

Hershel felt her presence closer now and knew she had slipped towards him more. He caught every movement she made. He also caught the sweet scent of her perfume. But he was vigilant now, the music had woken him up. But he knew he would be as tired as before once they left the dance floor. So he'd need to do soemthing about it, a coffee! He'd order a coffee once they left. She began to answer his question, he could barely hear her. But he caught enough so he could fit two-and-two together. She was a waitress waiting for something better. He swore he heard a hint of lie in there, but whatever. He wasn't looking for dark wizards or criminals now so he wondered why his instincts were on high alert.

"Ah, a waitress! That's an alright job for someone your age." he told her. He wasn't much older than she was, at least he assumed that. "It's an alright job for someone my age even," he added as he shrugged. "Oh, I run a small detective agency. Kind of like a Sherlock Holmes thing." he told her. "I solve mysteries and catch criminals and all that other stuff. So, I don't often go to night clubs." he told her. That of course was the partial truth, just he had cut back on the detective stuff lately. But he still looked for small time criminals. Muggles and Wizards alike, he had helped far too many to remember any really.