<div class="floatleft">(http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u133/kokotigress/Elliquiy/Doom%20Town/c45c9351-3123-49e6-b250-c45847c7f82e_zpsdd362d0d.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Harley<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown to the public<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Early Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Golden Mare<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Marguerite, Miss Greene, Open<hr/>When the lovely brunette took it upon herself to deliberately call her Sir, Harley's sober demeanor immediately shattered. A low, sultry chuckle rolled past her lips but keeping in mind just where she was she offered no comment that might be taken out of context.<br/><br/>Acutely aware of her surroundings and her failure to conform to certain standards deemed appropriate by society, she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes the moment the whispers began. People really were quite predictable. Thankfully for the lot of them she wasn't the sort to start trouble for trouble's sake, so she kept her eyes on her companion, concerning herself with none but her.<br/><br/>As a suitable table was picked out, Harley was polite enough to assist the Lady before rounding the table to seat herself with the best vantage point.<strong>"Naw, ain't forward at all darlin',"</strong>she drawled with a smirk, deliberately repeating the pet name. She didn't actually know the woman's name but even if she had she wasn't sure she would have used it anyway. Most people saw such endearments as being personal and overly familiar but Harley was just the opposite. A person's given name, now that was personal. It carried with it a world of meaning and if used right, it could be wielded as quite a weapon. The wrong name whispered in the night could inspire the deepest of fear. Hell, there were folks on this planet who could command armies simply behind a name! Names could be right powerful. Not to mention, if her lover was whisperin' in the dark it was her name she wanted to hear from their lips, not some generic endearment that could belong to any Bill, Bob, or John.<br/><br/>Course, she didn't figure this displaced Lady would much understand that. She was concerned with what was proper, and though Harley couldn't fault her for it, neither would she pretend to be something other than what she was.<br/><br/><strong>"Well now, <em>Mrs.</em> Marguerite Landry, late of Baltimore, it's a pleasure."</strong>There was some emphasis on the honorific as she nodded politely in return, her dark eyes focused quite keenly on that lovely face though she could in fact see the valet start over toward her. Knowing what was brewing in that tiny pea brain of his Harley adjusted her posture to a long limbed sprawl that was decidedly out of place in the fine hotel and those brown eyes that were capable of holding such warmth and even heat went flat and hard. Her gun was easily visible, highlighted almost by her position, yet her hand never neared it as she appeared otherwise unconcerned by his--or anyone's--intent.<strong>"Name's Harley. Just Harley."</strong>She replied briefly, not bothering to expand as she watched the valet halt in his tracks and return to his post.<br/><br/>She nodded again then, though this time it was directed toward Miss Greene and the faint smile she offered. She figured the woman probably thought her less than dirt in truth but decent was decent and she had never been otherwise toward Harley... not to her face anyhow.<br/><br/><strong>"That'd be Miss Greene. A right fine lady, far as I know anyway."</strong>She shrugged not really wanting to get into it, though she was tempted to look the Madame's way again as the valet came over to speak to Marguerite. As he stepped close, Harley noted with some amusement that he was clearly ignoring her presence and she was amiable to doing the same for the sake of avoiding a headache.<br/><br/>