Yes Ma'am

Night had descended upon Arcadia and the sky was alight with constellations that twinkled and glowed, swirling around like a shimmering sea above the sky.

March's favorite bar sat along the edge of Lower Zion and the Patch and he would have to die first before admitting he actually liked it there. The Insomnium ore infused lanterns provided low sensual light, glowing blue, pink, and green. It was cheesy but it matched the lazy strum of piano keys that played with the humming raspy sound of a woman singing.

He watched her from the bar, hand nursing the strongest drink the bartender could provide, which wasn't even strong enough.

He never thought hearing the sound of a woman's voice grate against her throat could be so beautiful. She wore a black dress that hung tightly to her skin, draping down to the ground. A high slit revealed long, thin legs and feet wrapped in stiletto heels. March could tell she was beautiful, even with her face hidden behind a lioness mask. Her shoulder-length hair was carefully slick back and was almost manly but it suited her just perfectly.

Her fingers, gloved in silk, glided across piano keys as she rasped and sung. Her back arched as she trembled from the emotion and passion of the song.

Who knew a groan and a growl could tug at a heart and make a man's stomach melt.

He swirled his glass and listened to the way the ice cling-ed against the glass. He tried to match it to the tune of her song and chuckled at his own foolishness.

The burn of cheap whiskey wasn't as bad as the soapy aftertaste. But March was a man and ordered another glass before he turned around in his seat for a better view of the singer.

"Who's she?" He nudged towards the stage as the bartender slid him another glass.

"The Lioness," Was all he was privy to.

"No name?" Marched raised a brow.

The bartender gave him a cold glare before walking off. March rolled his eyes and chuckled. The people of this region were a whole different ballgame. His attention veered back to the stage. The Lioness finished her performance and held the mic close to her crimson-painted lips, "Thank you so much for coming, everyone."

Surely there was a pretty face behind that pretty voice. When she looked out to the crowd, March felt their eyes lock. He smirked and raised his cup to her, an obvious invitation that he knew she would take from a man as handsome as he.

March chuckled at his own thought and brought the cheap whiskey to his lips. Perhaps he was being a little overconfident, but wasn't that the fun to coming to places as such? In this kind of place, one could pretend to be someone else. He didn't have to call himself March, he could be Deux-Cent-Cinqante-Huit for all these fellows cared.

The woman parted with the stage and in her place, a man went up to play a cheap guitar tune. It wasn't nearly as captivating as the Lioness's heart-wrenching performance so March could instead focus his attention back on his drink and the other patrons of the bar.

He was, for the most part, left to his lonesome. The woman has gone and for a moment he thought his confidence had been grossly misplaced and that she wasn't going to join him after all. But when he downed the last of his glass and called the bartender for another, a low female voice spoke from behind, "Make that two."

March raised a brow and took his time to turn around in his stool. The Lioness settled down in the seat next to his, her mask still fit tightly around her face. She peered over her sleek shoulder and smiled. At this proximity, he could see that the little crystal dangling from her neck was in fact an Insomnium ore, and a pink one at that. Her large fanning lashes could be seen behind the cutout eye-rims of the mask. They were gray.

"You sure you want that?" March asked, "Not exactly a ladies' drink, you know?"

The Lioness smirked and said, "I will decide what a lady can or can't drink. You just keep your pretty little mouth shut."

He laughed and shook his head, "Yes, Ma'am."

Two glasses of disgusting whiskey were placed before them and the Lioness was quick to take hers. She took a big gulp, downing nearly half the glass all at once. March was stupefied. He couldn't tell if he was impressed or just concerned. "Got some trouble in your life?"

She rolled her eyes at him, "Who taught you to go around making assumptions about other people?"

He threw up his hands in surrender, "Meant no offense."

"Sure." She said in a way that didn't sound at all convinced.

Marched chuckled, deciding that he liked her.

She tilted her head just slightly back and swept her eyes across him from head to toe. A playful smirk pulled her lips, "You're a masochist, aren't you? I bet you love cruel women who act cold to you."

He answered her with a grin, "Aren't you the one making assumptions now?"

"No assumptions, just facts." She snickered, "I can always pick out your type." She swirled her glass with her gloved fingers before taking another big swig. "You men are always so easy to read."

March shook his head but he had a hard time refuting her. It was, in the end, mostly true. "You're right, for the most part."

She chuckled and finished her glass and then called the bartender for another.

"Make that two," this time it was March who added after her. She raised a brow towards his barely touched glass and March just smirked. He chugged it all down at once.

The Lioness hummed and gave him another prying glance, "So tell me, Mister, what are you here for? Wait. Let me guess."

March smirked and waited, sitting still as he allowed her to scrutinize him as she wished. He was patient for her verdict. She took her time, eyes swooping from the details of his face, to the length of his hair and the classy but casual blazer over a nicely fitted shirt. And then her eyes trailed farther down, to black pants that hugged his muscled thighs and the dress shoes that were both simple but elegant.

"I know," she finally said, "You're here for Marilyn."

March sampled a sip of his whiskey, "How did you know?"

"Simple," she scoffed, "There is no other reason for a man like you to come to these parts. People come to the Edge to seek a dream. Why else would anyone wander so close to the Patch? Unlike the rest of Arcadia, it gets dangerous over there."

"...You're right." He smiled at her.

He didn't entirely expect what happened next. The Lioness leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

Along with the bitter smell of cheap whiskey, he caught a whiff of cinnamon and jasmine. It was a chaste kiss.

And when she parted with him, she peered into his eyes and asked, "Who were you thinking about just now?"

Who…? He couldn't answer. Because it was not the Princess. No…instead, he'd been thinking about a tall woman with long dark hair. Who seemed cold and perhaps a little cruel but had a heart bigger than anyone else.

Ah, who was she again?

March could no longer recall.