You wove through the crowd of villains, a fine whiskey in each hand. Ice cubes clicked against the glasses in time with the thrumming music.

"Oof—"

You stumbled, throwing a glare at the hulking man who had shoved you. He answered with a raised middle finger. That motherfu—

"Having trouble keeping your balance, little one?"

A shiver ran down your spine as the sharp tip of a blade grazed your cheek. You turned to find Coupé watching you, that familiar feline smirk playing on her lips.

She gracefully accepted the offered whiskey, took a sip, and in one fluid motion, threw one of her blades. It landed dead center in the dartboard on the far wall. The move was so effortless, so elegant, that your ego couldn't help but puff out at the thought: I can do that, too!

Coupé seemed to notice your gaze lingering on her blades. She simply slid one from its sheath and offered it to you. "Help yourself."

Oh, shoot. You'd already had a couple of glasses. This was a bad idea. Or was it? You could see clearly... mostly. You just needed to blink a few times. How much could it really affect your aim?

Coupé leaned her hip against the pool table, swirling her glass as her eyes tracked your every step—and, you suspected, every minor movement.

You could feel her presence burning into your back. It was no wonder she watched so intently—old assassin habits die hard—but the intensity made you feel more like a target than her dispatcher.

Okay. Breathe in. Out. You pointed the dagger at the bullseye. Easy. One, two—

"Hey, what the fuck?!"

Coupé's low chuckle rang beside you as the big guy from earlier spun around, glowering and rubbing his head (thankfully, it was fully metallic). Well, maybe you had miscalculated...

"Did you close your eyes just now?" Coupé slid closer, handing you another dagger. "You need to throw it forward. You remember what forward is, right?"

You clicked your tongue. "I'm not that drunk."

A purr followed, "Could've fooled me."

She set her glass on the pool table, and then her hand was encircling yours, raising it to eye level. Her skin was cool against yours.

"Focus on the tip," she murmured against your ear, her breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Lean it back just a little. Keep your wrist relaxed."

Her other hand settled on the small of your back. "I said, relaxed."

For the love of everything above, you could not relax when she was this close.

"See the target," she whispered, her voice a velvet caress. "Focus on it. Want it. Crave it."

The dagger trembled slightly in your grasp. She pressed her fingers tighter around yours, steadying your hold.

"Now," she breathed. "Show me your best."