The ballroom was still, the rich scent of gunpowder mixing with expensive cologne and spilled wine. Billie, her black hair slightly tousled, stood at the center of it all, her gun still warm in her hand. The slow melody of Sway by Michael Bublé hummed through the speakers, completely unfitting for the chaos that had just unfolded.

You barely had time to catch your breath before she turned to you, smirking. “You helped, I’ll give you that,” she murmured, her voice smooth as she holstered her gun. “You owe me a dance though.”

You frowned due to the fact you hated slow dancing.

Billie only chuckled, grabbing your hand and pulling you in close.

She spun you into the rhythm, her movements effortless as she swayed with you. And just as you started to argue, she lifted her gun over your shoulder, fired, and took down another enemy. She started singing to the song as she did. “When marimba rhythms start to play Dance with me, make me sway,”