She walked into the smoky saloon one hip at a time, paused to look the place over then sashayed up to the bartender and ordered her usual before taking a seat at the end of the bar, sliding one silky gam over the other, letting the slit skirt slip just far enough.

Loading her cigarette holder, she waited for the mugs to fight it out over who got to offer her a light before puffing out a long stream of smoke and purring softly as she batted her eyelashes, every word slipping over her lips like fresh butter dripping off a hot biscuit, "Whaddya say barkeep? any hot tips for a hot tipper ?"


Just as much at home in a swanky dive wearing a low cut satin gown with a muff pistol tucked into her garter as in a dingy alley in a rumpled trenchcoat with a well worn sap in her pocket and a pair of 38's in a soft shoulder holster, she knows the game and she knows the rules are optional.
She's heard them all, 'Splitarse Shamus', 'Dickless Tracy', 'Highheeled Gumshoe' and she doesn't care.
Words don't sting nearly as much as a stab in the back or the hot kiss on the end of a wet fist and she spells her name "Danger"


Tall dark and lean, smoky grey eyes and ruby lips usually wrapped around a cigarette, a bottle of cheap hooch, or a happy informant, you don't need to slip her a mickey to slip Nikki the dickey, as long as you have something she wants.


Rough and tumble is alright but hold off on the orcs and other oversized bruisers !


Yes, we binge watched a bunch of old movies just before I made her, this is the result, sorry (but not really) ;)