Appassionato.

[zarahjoyce]

"I mean, if you really think about it, maybe she is in the wrong kind of work."

The words were said innocently enough. Jacintha knew, however, that the intentions behind them were anything but.

But that was none of her damned business. She continued applying her lipstick and ignored the conversation four seats to her left.

The woman persisted, however. "It's just so, so stupid, don't you think? Acting like she's better than all of us. What, does she really think that red cape is a fucking brilliant idea? It's fucking stupid; that's what it is."

"Greta," Erin said warily.

Jacintha picked up her eyeliner and said nothing.

Greta's voice turned silky, almost a purr. "I tell you, we're all the same underneath. Sooner or later someone will get to take that damned coat off of her, and then she'll realize she's just the same as all of us - despite her high and mighty attitude."

She pushed her seat away and walked towards her victim. Greta dramatically paused, before taking the lipstick Jacintha recently abandoned and moving to whisper near her ear:

"A whore through and through," Greta said softly.

Jacintha refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing her reaction. Stonily she stared at her reflection, but the muscle in her jaw ticked - the only indication she heard.

"That's enough!"

Baristo went to their seats and all but yanked Greta away with enough force to render her headpiece askew. "Why don't you just concentrate on your performance? In case you've forgotten, your dance is up next. I'm guessing they'll be bored by your usual routine, but someone has to pass the time tonight."

"Bite me, Baristo," Greta shrieked, pulling her arm away.

"I could, but I don't want to be infected by your germs."

"Why you--"

"Come on Greta," Erin said, standing from his seat. "Let's get you something to drink before you get out there."

Baristo eyed the two until they left the dressing room, shook his head, then sat next to Jacintha. "Don't let her get to you," he said kindly. "She's just jealous because your dance raked in more than hers did last night."

"Tell me something I don't know," she said, finishing up her make-up. "Besides, Greta's never been a threat to me. She's all air, not much substance. Hardly a worthy adversary."

Baristo laughed. "Coldly stated, and definitely true."

For a second they both shared a friendly, familial smile. Baristo's expression, however, soon turned just a tiny bit sour - as though his mouth held some secret he didn't quite know how to blurt out.

Inwardly, she steeled herself. "What is it?"

Baristo took out something from his pocket and handed it to her. "You've been booked," he said.

Jacintha grimaced, but took the offered card. "They're aware of my conditions?"

"And your price, of course." He hesitated. "They said they can triple your asking price if you would just--"

"No," she cut in quickly, pocketing the card.

"It's a lot of money," Baristo said quietly, addressing the mirror instead of the woman beside him. "With that amount, you'll be very close to buying your freedom from this place. Isn't that what you want?"

She rounded on him then. "This isn't the first time I've been offered to give my clients more than just a dance. This isn't even the highest offer I've received since I started working here. You, of all people, should know that." 

Baristo grimaced. "Think about it, would you? It'll just be for one night."

Jacintha stood at that moment. As always, this kind of conversation made her quiver in indignation. "Greta's wrong on a lot of things, and I will never give her the opportunity to be right on something. Get this through your head, Baristo--"

She bent until she's looking into his eyes, and all but snarled, "I am not a whore."