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Loyalty liked playing with the big kids. They were all so full of themselves, and didn't like losing at all. It was like Christmas all over again when she saw their faces twist into infuriated rage that she -- a mere girl -- had managed to beat them at their own game.

She didn't indulge in this often, though. She had learned at a very young age that people were a lot more complicated than weapon configuration, and her patience was far from limitless -- it took a very, very special kind of person to tolerate her mood after a few drinks. (And she generally needed more than a few just to get through the night, which complicated things a bit. Added to that was the fact that after 'more than a few' she tended to forget the social etiquette she actually knew, pretty much promised for a night that wasn't as fun as most people assumed it would be.)

It's not as if she wanted to socialize, because people in social situations were much more fond of taking her money than giving her theirs, but sometimes it was necessary.

But that was neither here nor there, because there was always an exception to the rule, and the exception to Loyalty's rule of "Socializing is horrible and I shouldn't do it" wasn't so much "I'll only do it when I get to play with the big kids" as it was "I'll only do it when Bronheim asks me to play poker."

This happened sometimes, and Loyalty was well aware of why. She knew that Bronheim sneaked glances at her ass a bit more than he should, and often blushed when he got an eyeful of cleavage. He complimented her clothing choices instead of sneeringly asking why she wasn't in -- or, if they were feeling particularly bold, out -- of uniform, and he liked that she wasn't shy of beating him in competition. She was also well aware that he wanted to ask her on a date but was far too nervous she would say no, and that suited her just fine because she would say no -- as tolerable as Bronheim was in small doses, being around just him for an extended period of time would have driven her up the wall.

His problem was that he was just too nice -- to only to her, but to everyone. He was always the one breaking up fights with calm words or avoiding conflict, and it gave the distinct (although arguably inaccurate, she wasn't sure) impression that he was also fairly weak.

But when he asked her to play poker, Loyalty accepted, and not just because he was tolerable -- mostly, in fact, because he only ever played with his crew, and she really didn't like his crew at all. They threw wolf whistles at her as she walked past and made lewd comments about her pretty mouth, remarked on the (disappointing, by their standards) size of her tits, and often pelvic thrusted in her general direction. Aside from the amusement that came from beating them in a 'man's game', Loyalty loved that she could snark at them cheerfully and they couldn't do a damn thing in front of their boss, unless they wanted to get reprimanded. She took more pleasure from knowing they had to watch everything they said in front of Bronheim than she did from beating them, really.

Also, they didn't really want her there. They didn't like Loyalty any more than she liked them. So she went, without a second thought, just because she could.

As it turned out, they really didn't want her there that night, when her stack of betting fodder was obviously much larger than any of theirs, and she had won the last five hands in a row. Then with a flourish, she won a sixth, and shot a smug and secretive little smirk at the only one stupid enough not to fold when she started betting. But when she reached for her latest pile of treasure, a beefy hand wrapped around her wrist and stopped her cold.

"You're cheating," he growled, warningly, and glared at her as the words hung heavily in the air. They were all thinking it, she knew -- she could see it on their faces -- but no one else had said anything. It was considered particularly bad form to call a woman on something so dastardly, after all.

Instead of openly reacting like he obviously hoped she would, Loyalty blinked in dismay and resisted the urge to kick him in the face with her steel capped boots. She was flexible enough to have pulled it off quite easily, and had worn boots just in case the need arose, but it would work much more in her favour if she avoided bloodshed.

After all, they wouldn't be quite so willing to let her in the door next week if she pulled a stunt like that, and she only needed a few more nights with such testosterone filled brutes to be able to afford that mechanical crane she'd had her eye on for the last month.

"Am I ?" she echoed instead, when the silence had become too long to be comfortable and everyone was sort of just staring awkwardly. Just for good measure she shot a look to Bronheim, silently asking for his opinion on how to deal with the matter. Predictably, seeing a damsel in distress, he stood.

"She's not," he rumbled, patiently, and pushed his chair back. The guy gripping her wrist sneered -- of course you'd think that -- and looked to his friends for his own support. They tactfully managed to be looking everywhere but at him, trying not to get involved. He grunted at this, released Loyalty, and sat back in his chair.

He didn't apologize or take back the accusation though, and she spent a second rubbing the red mark on her wrist, glancing awkwardly around and taking in the mood of the room. She got the distinct impression that now would be a very good time to leave, and gathered up her winnings as she mumbled an excuse for an exit, careful not to make eye contact. Bronheim walked her to the door, making rude gestures at his crew behind her back when he thought she couldn't see.

Then he stood in the doorway, shuffled awkwardly, and blurted

"I didn't think you were cheating."

"Thank you," Loyalty responded after a second, patting his shoulder, because it was still a pretty big deal that he'd stood up for her. Then she forced a smile and strolled off down the road, her pockets full of interesting things and making a pleasant chink-chink noise as she walked.

Halfway down the road -- almost to the crossroads that would lead to her own place -- she picked out the transport she was looking for. Making sure there was no one looking, she crouched down, eyed the tires, then quite cheerfully drove her screwdriver into each one. The hiss of escaping air was almost as satisfying as the sound his nose would have made when her heel slammed into it, and she was placated, despite the effort it took to pierce the rubber.

Then to add insult to injury, since he really had been an asshole about it all -- she tugged the ace of spades from her sleeve and tucked it into one of the slashes in the tire.

She wondered if she should feel a bit guilty about the destruction and quickly decided against it. Much easier not to.

After all, it wasn't about winning, or making a quick buck -- it was about making sure that he knew, without a doubt, just who was on top in these little social outings.

Loyalty hummed to herself as she continued down the road, listening to the coins knocking against each other in her pockets, and quite pleased with everything in general.

All in all, the night had gone rather better than she had expected it to. Maybe she would go back the next week after all.