<strong>Medea<br/>Quincy's, Brooklyn<br/>Early Morning</strong><br/><br/>I smile as Hellion glances back to see if I've followed, her expression slightly alarmed and relaxing as she sees me.  There is a trick to walking stealthily in ballet boots, but it's not as much of one as most people might think; after all, I was already on tip-toes.  Vinnie the Angel looks up, his eyes half glazed from the quick inhalation of the potent powder.  It's cleaner than the base drug crank, most likely cocaine, but it will addle the mind anyways.  His voice is rough and and displeased.  "Who th' fuck are you?"  He doesn't seem to know who Hellion is, but that may be momentary confusion.  I roll the sphere across the top of my hand to palm, and then back to the back of my wrist, the lights of the bar catching in the slightly flawed center of the large crystal.<br/><br/>"Does it matter who we are?  We're beautiful young women, interested in you, Mister Angel," I murmur, modulating my voice to deeper and more intense tones so they penetrate the barrier of noise the club generates.  His eyes snap to me, as I intended, and then the crystal catches his attention, and he sits up a little.  "This is the man you wished to play with, is it not?" I ask Hellion, keeping his attention away from her.  The drugs are not helping, though - at least not yet.  The first burst of pain-pleasure distracts and confuses them, and it's harder to maintain my hypnosis on them.<br/><br/>"Perhaps he should take us somewhere private where we can get....acquainted."  My voice is all honey-and-come-hither, and the smile that crosses his lips is lustful and sneering.  Men are terribly predictable, and keeping him distracted so that Hellion can deal with him swiftly is taking a lot more effort than I'd like.<br/><br/>Why can't people just use prescription drugs?  They're so much more predictable!