She had been looking forward to drifting off into a blissful coma. Unfortunately for her, the universe wasn't done using her as a chew toy just yet. She mumbled something as her comm buzzed with an incoming message, working herself out of the nest of blankets she had wrapped herself up in. Still drowsy, she retrieved it from the nightstand and turned it on, squinting at the sudden light in her darkened room. When she read the message and saw who it was from, she dropped her face back into her pillow with a groan. A moment later, a muffled growl of<b><i>"Fuuuuuck my liiiiiife,"</i></b>could be heard coming from within.<br/><br/>She briefly considered messaging Garraus back telling him to fuck off. She was<i>not</i>in the mood to deal with him right now. She had typed it out and was about to hit Send--it was only the unspoken threat of raising the rent too high for her to pay hanging over her head that kept her from doing so. She stared at the screen for a moment longer before sighing in defeat.<b> "I hate you<i> so</i> fucking much..."</b>she muttered to her comm, deleting the unsent message and closing the device.<br/><br/>She stepped out of bed and flicked the lights on, moving to her dresser. In the bottom drawer, hidden underneath a pile of lounge clothes, was a set of black lace lingerie--panties, bra, and thigh-high stockings--that had oh-so-mysteriously appeared on her bed shortly after the first time Garraus had had his way with her. That particular night was a bit of a blur to her, thanks to the drinks they had had prior, but maybe that was for the best--even thinking about it made her blood boil. Shortly after she had rented her apartment, he had invited her up for drinks after work, and to discuss the possibility of lowering her rent in exchange for running some odd jobs for him. He was a busy man, he had claimed, and an extra hand around would have been appreciated. She had already been a bit suspicious of the simpering loupe-garrou, but she was in a tight situation finances-wise and a cheaper rent hadn't seemed like a bad idea at the time. It was only when the alcohol had started to affect her, yet he remained suspiciously sober, that alarm bells had truly begun to go off. He had expressed his...<i>interest</i>in her, offering to keep her rent low in exchange for sexual favors. She had tried to excuse herself, but he had pinned her on the couch, forked tongue going down to where it shouldn't have, a sibilant hiss in her ears as he suddenly hauled himself up over her. After making her blow him, he had scooped up the shaken, half-drunk woman and carried her down the hallway to her room. Of that, most of what she remembered was fangs brushing the soft skin of her neck, their touch electrifying, and Garraus's thrusting weight on top of her, her cries muffled by the blankets.<br/><br/>The next morning was the first time in her life she had ever seriously contemplated murder, if only because getting utterly, viciously, animalistically furious meant that she didn't have to think too hard about what had just happened.<br/><br/>The fact that Garraus was still breathing, however, was an indicator that she hadn't carried out her wish, and had kept to their bargain--not that she had any other option at the moment.<br/><br/>Once she had donned the illicit garb, she threw on a nightshirt and sweatpants over them. She wasn't about to walk down the hall in lingerie. Beyond the occasional "friends" that Garraus invited over, nobody knew about her little problem, and she was determined to keep it that way. This was<i>her</i>trouble, and she would fix it herself, whether that involved skipping town or tossing Garraus out his own window. Either or was fine by her.<br/><br/>She stepped into the owner's penthouse through the unlocked door, letting her eyes roam about. Gaudy. It hadn't taken her long to peg him as the type who enjoyed showing off what he had, whether that was in expensive furniture tastes, a well-stocked wine cabinet, or a so-called exotic at his beck and call. She snorted in contempt. Garraus was a slumlord and that was all he'd ever be. He could pretend he was worth something, but the only people he held sway over were a hundred or so down-on-their-luck tenants.<br/><br/>And her.<br/><br/>Used to the routine, she helped herself to his spirits cabinet, knowing it would annoy him at least a bit, pouring herself a glass of wine before settling on the plush couch and turning on the vid-screen. She didn't pay any particular attention to what any of the channels were showing, it was more of a distraction while she waited for the man of the hour to arrive. The sooner they finished this, the sooner she could hopefully go back home and scrub herself down after Garraus was done pawing her.