His boys called this end of town<span style="font-style: italic">‘The Neon Alley’</span>and it suited her down to the ground. Of course they could have just have easily called it<span style="font-style: italic">‘The Piss-Up Parade’</span>and that would have stuck equally well because<span style="text-decoration: underline">they</span>owned these streets.<br/>Wedged comfortably between the tourist district and the hubbub of the workman’s docks, The Neon Alley was jack-of-all-trades zone, home to the Red Light district and to many of the wildest nights out a man could hope for. A place filled with lurching, sooty bricked buildings plucked right out of the industrial revolution, their hefty rafters groaning under the weight of passing years and speckled with tented, shanty-town markets lit up with strings of lights like Christmas trees. Buzzing neon tubes advertising everything a man could buy from breakfast cereals to condoms, from 24 hour cocktails to pharmaceuticals, the bass from the nearby clubs thrummed up through the mossy cobble-stones, a manufactured pulse of the streets for all to feel and the rich mixed scents of hot food, vomit and sweat, sweet perfumes and chemical smog were thick in the air.<br/><br/>This… this was Lips favourite part of his City and his most common haunt, after all his family had been charging half of the local businesses a protection fee and running underground deals come illegal trade with the other half, there was scarcely a dodgy business owner he didn’t know! Even walking the streets alone you could never lack for company, though… it wasn’t suggested if you wanted to keep your wallet in your pocket or your organs where they were, this was a dangerous place for your casual passer-by. Unless you were Lip. People knew well enough to leave the members of the petit French Mafia alone and even as a child he’d had nothing to fear from The Neon Alley…<br/><br/>He’d slunk along this way after his last lecture—something or another about current market trends, he hadn’t been listening, the topics this term had bored him to tears much to his Mothers agonizing—and he’d come looking for a way to unwind after a quick shower and a change.<br/><br/>Opting for the trademark leather jacket and military boots, designer of course, the million dollar bad-boy-combo he called it, usually brought him either a bit of luck or attention, but today Lip didn’t feel much like dealing with the kind of people you got in bars so he’d changed his mind and wandered the high street instead.<br/><br/>Nothing much was happening. Lip didn’t know what he’d expected; it was a late afternoon on a weekday to boot, most of the action could be found in the stalls at this time of day, but… ugh, he didn’t want to shop either… the red head was feeling unsettled and was fairly certain nothing would tick the box today…<br/>Well, maybe a cigarette would. He found a wall to perch against and fished a pouch of tobacco and some papers from the back pocket of his jeans, watching the crowds mill past and giving them their own secret, silly little back stories in his head as he rolled. One guy might have been a government spy before they caught him abusing his powers to rob a pie factory, another woman might have been a mad cat-lady in training as part of a secret underground cult of martial art wielding, animal hoarding superheroes, another (because of the dumb sniffling expression he kept pulling) had a past time of jamming anchovies up his nose… the more ridiculous, the more it amused him…<br/><br/>Lip sparked up and watched them go. He couldn’t have been there for more than a few minutes before he suddenly became aware of someone calling him over.<br/><br/>It was somebody behind a stall, one he had failed to notice up until now, tucked neatly out of the way. For a moment he blinked over, dumbfounded, head cocked curiously to one side trying to squint out the details of the stranger. At first he assumed it was a woman, it was hard to tell, he hadn’t heard them shout properly and they had a slinky, lithe figure all hidden up in veils and hoods, but as he kicked off of the wall to cross the short space between them Lip became unsure.<br/>It looked like one of those tarot card readers and—shit son—their mystique game was STRONG! Something curled through the air around them and it wasn’t incense, it was presence. A little logical part of Lips brain insisted that it was the whole point, that they cloaked themselves in beautiful patterns and hid just to create that sense of mystery, that sure someone’s eyes would look extra intense if that was all you could see of them, but it didn’t stop the fine hairs on his arms from bristling in a non-existent chill.<br/><br/>Pulling his jacket tighter around him he came to a halt in front of the stall, glancing it over studiously for a moment before he spoke. Not a bad set up, but… damn, it was kinda creepy how he hadn’t noticed this place before… almost as if it had appeared<span style="font-style: italic">just for him…</span>if that was the effect the mystic had been looking for it was executed flawlessly!<br/><br/>Lip smelled a potential investment! Not that his brothers of father would agree, they’d call it mumbo jumbo and laugh him off, but Lip liked to believe there was room in this world for a little of the unknown and a bit of magic…<br/><br/>“I don’t know,” he teased, French accent twisting the words to sound playful, a slight grin pulling at one side of his lips, arms folding across his chest, “Are you any good?”