Li'l Hope 'n' Annie

Content Warning : This story is set in a bar, so there is drinking depicted. More, since it is set in a lesbian bar, there is subtext. Intimate relationships between women, and between a woman and a man are alluded to, but not depicted. This is a non explicit alt piece, and there are a few naughty words, as well as some spicy references, but nothing terribly graphic - and it's all in good fun.

Spoiler Warning : This is set after the Xena : Warrior Princess episode "Deja Vu All Over Again," and uses characters and references situations from that episode.

Non-Ownership Disclaimer : This is an uber fanfic piece using characters and situations both influenced and originated by the TV series Xena : Warrior Princess. I don't own the series or characters in any way, shape or form - more's the pity.

Author's Note : This is sort of a companion piece to "Reconstructing Harry," (blatant plug) to balance it. It is set after the episode, rather than before, and involves Annie, rather than Harry. What more can I say? The muses whacked me over the head with the idea for it while driving home from work, weaving my car between orange barrels in the construction zones.

Xenite Disclaimer : Annie was shaken, and stirred by Hope during the production of this work.

"Bartender, Gi- Gi- Gimme another," Annie managed to stammer, suppressing the upwelling of air and liquor that threatened to erupt with each pause.

The bartender, a muscular young woman whose shaved head bore an intricately colored snake tattoo, raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you've had enough already. How many have you had?"

Annie blinked owlishly, staring up into the blur that had spoken to her. She held up one hand to show the count, but was momentarily distracted by the hazy mass of fingers hovering in the air. Carefully, she curled her fingers one at a time into her palm until she could only see two standing upright before her. "Two!" she announced proudly, pleased with herself for managing the feat.

Staring at the single, upraised middle finger Annie held pointing towards herself, the bartender simply nodded to herself. She'd called her condition well. "One black coffee coming up."

Frowning, the slightly sozzled woman thought about that order for a while. Eventually, she grudgingly nodded in acknowledgement, only to realize that the cup of coffee was already sitting on the bar in front of her, and the woman had moved away to serve someone else.

"Not much of a drinker, are you?" A woman's voice, clearly amused at Annie's condition, asked from behind her.

Moving with exceeding caution, Annie picked up the cup in both trembling hands and took a quick drink. "Gah!" she gasped, sticking out her scalded tongue as she quickly lowered the steaming cup.

She took another, more cautious sip of the hot fluid and sighed. "No," she answered the woman shortly, managing to speak around her seemingly bloated tongue only with an effort.

A good natured chuckle was her only response.

Annie continued to sip her coffee, feeling a measure of clarity returning as the caffeinated beverage burned its way down her gullet. Getting drunk probably wasn't the answer, she realized, no matter how comforting the idea of it had been.

"So then what are you doing drunk so early in the day?"

Scowling, Annie unwisely gulped too much of the coffee then glared at the bar as she panted, trying to cool the burning of her tongue. "It's personal," she finally bit out. Why didn't whoever it was just leave her alone?

"Humor me," the voice prodded, moving until it was standing directly behind her. The words were whispered into Annie's ear, the warm breath washing over the back of her neck.

Unconcerned and unaffected, Annie continued to drink. "I gave up my boyfriend, who liked to wear my clothing, so that he could be with his soulmate, OK? You happy...? Good. Then leave me alone." She edited her admission, choosing to make no mention of the dreams that had haunted her since that decision - what she'd revealed was bad enough.

"Boyfriend?" The voice actually sounded surprised. "You sure you came to the right bar?" it added, a touch of amusement returning to its tones.

"What?" Annie retorted, setting down her cup. Glancing around the bar, but not turning so far that she could see the annoying woman who was pestering her, she found it to be about half-filled with women. Only women. Women dressed in outfits ranging from formal business attire to leather and piercings, dancing and drinking together - and in secluded corners, necking together... Oh. "It was close," she shrugged. And considering her dreams and how she was feeling lately, she probably was in the right place, she grudgingly admitted.

"Give it up," the bartender snorted, having heard both the questions and Annie's responses. "She doesn't need your," she paused meaningfully as her voice fell into a teasing cadence. "Services."

"Eat me," the voice shot back, a hint of a snarl entering the words.

"Sure. How much?" the bartender retorted, running one hand down the length of her tattoo.

"Ha ha," the unknown woman mocked, ignoring the chorus of snickers from the nearby women who had overheard the exchange. "You should be so lucky. Go away, Snake."

Snake, the bartender, calmly refilled Annie's coffee cup and smirked, pleased to have gotten the better of the woman in the verbal sparring. When done, she blew a kiss to the still unseen woman behind Annie, then turned away to fill the orders brought by a pair of waitresses.

Annie was oblivious to the exchange, focused upon her coffee and the need to sober up. She tried to dismiss the woman from her mind, but she soon spoke again, breaking Annie's sluggish chain of thought.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked, politely.

Waving in uncaring acceptance, Annie blew across the top of her cup, sending streamers of steam curling over the lip. "Whatever."

"Thank you," the voice continued.

Staring intently at the hypnotic swirls of color in the oily film floating atop her coffee, Annie ignored her.

A hand suddenly rested itself lightly on Annie's thigh, making her jump in startled shock, spilling some of her coffee on the bar. She spun to face the interloper and to voice her outraged shock, but froze, mouth gaping, and simply stared at her instead.

The woman's other hand gently reached up and closed Annie's mouth with an audible clack, while the hand on her thigh momentarily tightened in a gentle squeeze. "You'll catch flies."

"You... You... Did you... Did you know you look an awful lot like... like..." Annie stammered, virtually incoherent.

"Like 'Gabrielle?'" the woman answered, visibly amused by the reaction.

Annie simply nodded, her eyes wide as she stared. And like Gabrielle's new reincarnation, she added sourly to herself.

"You bet," she answered, her lips creasing into a smirk. "I get that a lot. I don't mind though. The last convention? I made enough to pay off my car. From guys and grrls, both. I put a lot of notches in my bedpost that weekend, I can tell ya."

Blinking in confusion, Annie could only ask, "Huh?" confused by her answer.

"I," the woman began, "am, in the common parlance, a working girl." She snickered when the answer failed to enlighten Annie.

"A soiled dove?"

Blank stare.

"A madonna of the night?"

Narrowed eyes, but still confused.

Growing exasperated, she bluntly tried, "A hooker?"

"Oh!" Annie exclaimed in satisfaction. Now she understood. She blinked for a moment as that detail sank in. Wait a minute - she was a prostitute? "I'm not interested," she quickly rebuffed. Dreams or no, she'd never been with a woman, and certainly didn't intend to start with a pro. Oddly enough, the first thought to run through her head upon hearing her revelation was, "Aren't you a little short to be a prostitute?"

Snake's laughter made the woman frown. "I wasn't offering."

"Oh," Annie whispered in a small voice. "Sorry." She turned back to her coffee, embarrassed both by her mistake and the entire situation.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm making a mess of this. Can I at least introduce myself?"

Annie slowly rotated on her stool to face her again. "Okay."

Dropping her voice an octave and making her voice hoarse and gravelly, the prostitute introduced herself. "I'm Hope."

An expression of horror grew on Annie's face and she would have fallen off her chair if Hope hadn't grabbed her hand and supported her.

Hope's good-natured laughter rang out in the darkness of the bar. "Man, if you could've seen your face..."

"You... you're not Hope?" Annie whispered hopefully.

"Are you kidding? She's just a character on a TV show! I just love doin' that to fans." Hope rolled her eyes again at Annie's naïveté. "My name really is Hope, though."

Annie, who knew more about the reality underpinning the TV program than she, was greatly relieved. "I'm relieved," she breathed aloud. Remembering her manners, she offered her hand. "Annie," she introduced herself.

"Enchanté," Hope whispered, kissing the knuckles of her hand while passing her fingers gently over the delicate skin of her wrist.

Shivering at the feelings the touch of ruby lips and the soft caress evoked, Annie drew back slightly. That was... odd, she thought to herself. Nice, but odd. It almost seemed... familiar, somehow.

Nah... I'm was sure they'd never met before, she thought. Her hair was too blonde for her to be that therapist / scam artist, Mattie - even if they did look very similar. There was no sign of the nouveau hippy apparel Mattie wore, and I surely would have remembered seeing another Gabrielle look-alike. Must just be the booze.

Releasing Annie's hand with visible disappointment at her dispirited reaction, Hope smiled regardless. "As soon as I saw you, I knew I had to talk to you."

"Oh?" Annie asked, attempting to do a Xena-esque raised eyebrow of inquiry.

Hope admired the effect. "Very nice..." she purred. "Y'know, I might look a bit like Gabrielle, but you look a whole lot like Xena."

Annie's face clouded instantly. "I'm not Xena," she bit out. The last thing she wanted to think about was Xena. Knowing that you were the reincarnation of the comic relief was a terrible, terrible thing. And the dreams that had begun after discovering her soul's progenitor... She shuddered, keeping her expression blank only with an effort. Best not to even think about them.

Frowning, Hope tried to figure out what had caused the woman to freeze. "What?"

"Nothing. It's... another personal matter."

Shrugging, the prostitute decided to forge ahead. As soon as she'd seen the woman sitting hunched over the bar, she'd felt a connection; and considering how great she looked, she just knew she had to go on. "Look, I don't want to make you nervous. I just wanted to talk to you about this great idea I had. It could make us both a ton of money... You interested?"

"I've already got a job, and no offense, but I'm not going to become a... a... 'working girl.'"

"'Course not!" Hope proclaimed, looking shocked at the very suggestion.

"I'm relieved. Again," Annie breathed, taking a sip of her rapidly cooling coffee.

"Can I just tell you about it?" Hope asked, artfully hopeful innocence shining from her face.

"Well... I suppose," Annie allowed, her brow furrowing.

"Look, I told ya about how much money I made at the convention, right?"

"Yeah..." Annie drawled leadingly.

"Well picture this : you grow your hair a little longer, get some contacts, and you're a dead ringer for Xena. I'm a close match for her little friend, right?"

"Right..." she drawled again, waiting for the rest of it.

"Now," Hope began, warming to her explanation, "Fans, by definition - it's short for fanatic, right? - are obsessive. And they usually have more money than common sense. That's why marketing tie-ins are always so hot and so expensive. I mean there's calendars, book covers, standups, mock weaponry, bookmarks, novels, pictures, scripts, photos, autographs, jewelry, clothing, toilet paper..."

Annie blinked. "I didn't know they made Xena toilet paper." She was a trifle embarrassed to admit that she actually owned everything else in the little prostitute's list.

Hope rolled her eyes again - for some reason she seemed to react that way a lot to the taller woman. "You see my point?"

"Frankly, no," Annie admitted. "Yes, I know all about all the stuff they sell with the logos and pictures and things, but I don't see what that has to do with making money - well, for us, anyway, rather than the studio."

"But that's the point!" Hope's eyes almost glowed as she tried to control her excitement. She waved off Snake's watchful hovering presence before continuing. "Fans are used to paying a lot to get stuff associated with the object of their obsession. That's where we come in."

"We? What? You mean you and me?"

"Yeah!"

"I'm sorry, but I still don't follow you," Annie admitted.

Gesturing grandly, Hope spelled out her vision. "Performance art."

Looking blank, Annie shrugged. She didn't follow. "Sorry."

"Think about it," Hope urged. "We'd start out small, milking rich fans with a few private showings. The two of us, acting out scenes, dressed as their heroes - maybe even letting them interact with us if they pay enough. It'd be great!"

Annie frowned, and Hope frowned as she thought the woman was beginning to lose interest. "And then, once we've got a big enough stake built up, comes the movies."

"Movies?"

"Yeah," Hope exulted, staring into space. "I've got this friend - Sal. He owns a little studio he rents out for making..." she trailed off, reading Annie's dubious expression, and edited her description, "art films. He'll give me a great rate," under her breath she added, "if he gets to watch." Louder, she continued, "He can even do multiple angles for a DVD version. You and me, we get a gold stallion somewhere..."

"Mare."

"Whatever! We make some movies. To get around the copyrights, I'll only call you pet names like 'My Warrior,' and 'Princess,' and you can call me things like, 'My Bard,' and 'Sweetling.' No names, so no infringement - and the subtext fans will drool over it. They'll eat it up! Think how many copies we could sell! I mean, we could do all sorts of things, and even get fanfic writers to script them for us cheap : first times, maybe a little bondage, a little casual petting, if you're uncomfortable with some of it, we could even do some simple romantic friendship stuff. Nothing too kinky - I do have my standards - not like that one author's, with the centaur and the mermaid, but still hot."

Lost in her vision, Hope continued to detail her vision, growing more animated as she went. "I've got this other friend, a really stacked blonde who looks just delicious in leather - Callie. She could join us for those really great threesome scenes that sometimes show up in some of those fics. With the right makeup and costumes, she could work as either Callisto or Najara..."

Annie, who had grown more and more horrified as Hope's dialogue continued, simply goggled wide-eyed at her. "You want me to... to make lesbian... explicit lesbian movies with you? As... as... Xena?"

One corner of Hope's lips turned up in a half-smile. "Well, I thought we'd get to know each other a little better first. I mean, I wouldn't expect ya to jump right into the saddle, so ta speak." A faintly lecherous look entered her eyes, and she unconsciously licked her lips as she savored the mental image that description invoked.

"Oh," Annie commented in a small voice. Well, that was something at least.

"Just think of the money!" Hope urged. "You're a fan right? Tell me they wouldn't sell!"

The fan had to admit they'd likely sell - and sell exceedingly well, too. "That's not the point!"

"Think about it," Hope urged again, still hopeful that the woman would accept, and, she had to admit, if only to herself, more than a little turned on by the idea of getting together with the tall Xena look-alike - and not just for the money. The connection she'd felt that had drawn her over to the woman was just as compelling - and alluring. Not that the obviously inexperienced woman needed to be told that. Yet.

"All that money. You'd never have to really work again! And," Hope added with a sly smile as she traced a finger teasingly down her front, "it's not like you wouldn't enjoy it..." she trailed off, raising her brows inquisitively. "Just picture it!"

Hope's pleas fell on less than interested ears. The problem was not, as she suspected, that Annie couldn't imagine the possibility. The problem was that Annie could picture it. In vivid, sensurround technicolor stereoscopic detail.

What the prostitute couldn't know was that ever since the discovery that she was Joxer's reincarnation, Annie had been sharing his life in her dreams, reliving details from his life, both major and inconsequential, that had never been filmed for the series, yet she knew beyond question were true.

She knew the secret of his brother, Jase - and no longer wondered why he wasn't shown on TV. She knew of Jett's childhood habit of skinning small animals while they were still alive. She knew of the beatings Joxer had received from his warlord father after returning from the music lessons insisted upon by his mother. She even knew when he'd lost his virginity - at the tender age of eleven in the arms of one of his mother's serving maids.

Most of the memories were odd, many were intensely personal, but some were downright disturbing. Many were also very sexual, like the incident with the chamber maid, and those were, without question, the worst of the lot.

Annie had always thought of herself as being firmly heterosexual. She could appreciate, in an abstract sense, the beauty of other women, but hadn't really felt any desire for them.

But Joxer... Joxer was quite different in how he viewed women. Joxer had frequented brothels throughout Greece, and was justly hailed as "Joxer the Mighty" - if only in their unhallowed halls.

The combination was enormously confusing. Too often in recent nights had Annie dreamed of making love to women. She intimately knew what it felt like to thrust into the moist warmth of a woman's sex, to perform sexual feats with mouth, penis, and other assorted bodily parts that were too incredible to be recorded in the Kama Sutra.

Joxer loved women, and women loved Joxer. Even jaded prostitutes reached ecstasy in his arms, and young maidens from Thrace to Asia Minor had begged him to initiate them into the art of love. Stories were told in whispers from mother to daughter of his knowledge of a woman's body, and his ability to bring a lover to previously unknown heights of bliss.

Joxer may have been inept in everything else, and served in the TV series as little more than comic relief, but in the bedchamber, he was virtually a god - she hadn't been talking about Joxer's heart when she told Harry that Joxer "had a really, really big one." His musical ability was sadly lacking, but with his chosen instrument, he was a true virtuoso. No wonder Aphrodite had chosen him as her champion, Annie mused silently, sipping at her coffee and ignoring Hope's continuing efforts to sway her.

Creating elaborate fantasies about Gabrielle (and sometimes Xena as well) had consumed most of Joxer's waking hours - those not actually spent making love, and Annie had shared in many of them during her nocturnal communing with her ancestor. Riding Gabrielle, being ridden, licking, stroking, slowly stripping her of her Amazon garb with his teeth, and even doing things best left unexplored with his foot after carefully shaving off all of her body hair... Thanks to her dreams, she had little doubt she could show this prostitute who so looked like Gabrielle ways of pleasure that would leave her screaming for mercy - or for more.

Simply put, Joxer had had it bad for Gabrielle - Xena's lover and soulmate. She was both the innocent who was immune to his manly wiles, and the seductress who drew him like a siren with her charms. She was the focus of all of his energy. But...

Gabrielle was Xena's, as Xena was hers. That fact was indisputable - once it had sunk in, anyway. First Joxer, and now, centuries later, Annie, had been forced to face that grim reality. They'd each given up the person they loved so that the two soulmates could be together. It was the right thing to do, but that fact was a bitter, cold comfort that did little to help her deal with her own turbulent emotions - not to mention the residual pain of Joxer's lost love.

Maybe that was why she had begun to so often share in Joxer's dreams : she could identify with him so well... His pains were hers - and slowly, much of the rest of him was becoming her as well.

It was enough to make Annie cry - and she had - frequently - in recent days. Harry and that fake tie- dyed therapist were happy together, but Annie was miserable.

The distressing part was, that wasn't the worst of it. Not even those dreams, the shared fantasies of making love to Gabrielle, were what Annie found most disturbing.

The truly disturbing dreams, the ones that haunted Annie and had driven her to seek the false solace of drink, were the ones of making love to a woman who was her twin.

The dreams of herself kissing herself while fucking herself, of suckling at her own breast while her finger teased her opening, of staring up through a tangled patch of damp pubic hair into her own loving eyes... and loving every moment of it. Those were the truly frightening dreams.

They frightened and embarrassed her even more than the occasional absentminded late-night attempts to pee standing up. The blind panic that it engendered when she reached down and discovered an absence was nothing by comparison to the confused horror that was left in the aftermath of lustful thoughts about herself...

More than once she'd unconsciously started to touch herself after getting out of the shower, coming back to herself only after realizing she was staring into the mirror, rather than reliving one of Joxer's dreams. Thanks to Joxer, she was intensely aroused... by herself.

Why did she have to be born looking like Xena? Like Meg? she bemoaned to herself. "Why?" she asked aloud, her expression crumpling as tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

Hope sighed as Annie collapsed into tears. "That could have gone better," she murmured to herself. She lightly rubbed Annie on the back in support. "It's okay," she soothed the taller woman, her heart feeling compressed in her chest as the woman wallowed in misery. "Don't cry!" she begged.

Summoned by the sounds of weeping, Snake hurried over and snarled at the prostitute, "What did you do?"

"It wasn't me, honest!" Hope pleaded for understanding. "I don't know what's wrong!" The tightness she felt squeezing her chest increased as Annie's misery deepened. For some reason, she ached at Annie's hurt, feeling sympathetic pangs in her soul as the woman suffered. "Why won't she stop crying?" she dithered, a brief flash of panic crossing her features.

Snake could only stare at Hope, frankly amazed by her reaction. Had the infamous Hope fallen for someone? Nah... It couldn't be... Pouring some more coffee into Annie's cup, she ran a hand over her shorn scalp in an unconscious habit. "Try to calm her down, okay?"

Hardly even hearing the bartender's instructions, Hope cradled Annie's weeping head to her bosom, rocking her gently while whispering soothing nothing-words into her ear. "Sshhhh..." she attempted to calm her softly.

Annie wept all the harder, her despair at her lost love, the revelation of her former existence, the dreams that were making her question her sexual identity, and the alcohol-fueled depression all coming together to drive her deeper into a miasmic quagmire of despair.

"It's okay, baby," Hope breathed, dropping a kiss behind Annie's ear. "Just let it all out."

Annie poured out her misery in great heaving sobs, drenching the front of Hope's blouse with her tears. She shook with the strength of her weeping, but Hope held her all the tighter, trying to soothe and calm her with words and touches until the fit began to fade, snarling at anyone who dared come close, either in curiosity or sympathy.

At length, when Annie began to recover, she looked up into Hope's eyes and was startled by the intensity of emotion she saw glowing in their depths. Quickly she sat up, pulling away from the concerned prostitute.

"Are you okay?" Hope asked gently, holding out a handkerchief in one hand while continuing to make gentle circles on Annie's back with the other.

"No," Annie admitted. "I must look a mess, and I don't feel much better." Obeying Hope's gestured instructions, she obligingly dabbed her eyes before loudly blowing her nose with a resounding honk. "And look at you... I got you all wet!"

"Ya still look great to me, babe," Hope whispered, surprised by the level of truth hidden in the casual comment. Best not say anything about exactly how wet the lovely woman had gotten her, she reminded herself silently.

Annie sighed. "It's your job to say things like that," she pointed out, though she had felt illogically cheered by the compliment.

"You ain't payin' me, are ya, doll?" Hope retorted, her accent thickening as she fought down her turbulent emotions. She felt unreasonably hurt by Annie's comment, though she knew it for truth. "Hell, trust me, I'd do ya for free." She rolled her eyes again as Annie dissolved into another storm of tears. What now?

"What?" Hope snarled at Snake, who was hovering behind the bar again.

"What brought that on?" the bartender asked, her voice surprisingly gentle.

"Damned if I know," the prostitute groused, hiding her confusion and uncertainty behind a mask of anger. Running her fingers through her hair, she explained, "I offered her a freebie and she got all weepy on me."

Snake smirked and all but danced away. "Oh, yeah... She's fallen hard," she snickered to herself.

"Women!" Hope uttered in exasperation. She returned to soothing the weeping Annie in surprisingly gentle tones, trying to determine what had brought on the latest crying jag.

Annie wept, returned once more to despair as Hope held her to her bosom and stroked her comfortingly. "I am turning into Joxer!" she mumbled, pressing her face against a firm breast.

"Don't cry, baby," Hope murmured. "It's not so bad. Hell, some guy I was with once told me I was Meg."

Annie froze, her tears continuing to flow, but her sobs momentarily stilled. "What?"

"Yeah," Hope continued, surprised that the idle comment had such a potent impact. She continued to embrace her while rubbing the woman's back as she told her story. "The last con I was at, this guy I picked up, he was a dead ringer for Kevin Smith. Had the whole look and outfit down. Hair, beard, leather... even had this nifty sword - he really got a kick out of it when I asked if he wanted me to play with his sword. Anyway, we went up to my room, and he asked me my name. I did the Hope voice and I though he was going to dump a load in his pants - and not in a good way, y'know?"

Annie smiled into Hope's chest. "You'd think he would have gotten off on it, consider Ares and Hope..."

"Yeah, but you never can tell with fans. This one guy I did at the same con, a virgin - that much you could tell - got off on me smacking him around with a staff and tying him up before we, you know. Wanted to pretend he was a bandit, and Gabrielle was overcome with lust by his obvious charms." Hope smiled as Annie's mood perceptibly lightened. "Then this girl wanted me to do this thing... Well, let's just say I didn't think that was what the furry thing on Gabrielle's staff was for! I charged her extra for that, I can tell ya."

Annie laughed through her tears, unaccountably cheered by Hope's blasé acceptance of people's foibles and her light-hearted attitude. "So what happened with Ares?"

"Hmm? Oh, the guy in leather. He seemed to freeze, then just... looked at me, y'know? Like he was trying to see through me. After a bit he says, 'You're not Hope - you're Meg.' That really knocked me for a loop, 'cause I look like Gabrielle, not Xena. Anyway, long story short, I got him fired up again, we did our thing, and he left. Got a good tip afterwards, too."

Digesting that information, Annie was struck by a sudden thought. "Could it have really been Ares?"

"Ha!" Hope snickered. "Ares ain't real, honey. And let me tell ya," she leaned close to Annie's ear conspiratorially, "He was no god, I can tell ya that much. That virgin I did was better than him, and that's a fact."

They giggled together like schoolgirls, until Annie felt much more relaxed. She sat up, each of them feeling the pang of separation as they drew apart.

"I don't want to do those movies, or anything like it, but I really like you," Annie admitted shyly. "Friends?"

Hope smiled, all but glowing as she absorbed the tentative offer of friendship. "You bet. You wanna go see a movie or somethin'?" A sudden flicker of something crossed Annie's face and Hope hurried to reassure her. "A real one I mean. No strings, no fees, just two gals out on the town. Whadda ya say?"

Annie paused, seeing the hope shining on Hope's face. She did like the woman, even if she was a prostitute. "No performance art?"

"Not another word about it. Just some fun. I'll even take you to dinner. My treat."

Annie considered the matter some more. Hope might not have been aware of the reality of Ares' existence, but Annie certainly was. From what the prostitute had said, it might very well have been Ares himself that was her customer - which would mean Hope might very well be Meg reborn. And Joxer and Meg were, if not soulmates, at the least very good together - Annie knew that much from her dreams.

Hope watched the play of emotions on Annie's face and prayed she'd agree. She felt something with this woman that she'd never felt with anyone she'd ever met before - man or woman. She'd never offered anyone a freebie, let alone a free meal and a night on the town. She didn't know what had gotten into her, but... she liked it. Please, she whispered soundlessly, hope rising in her heart as a gentle blush began to blossom in Annie's cheeks.

"Okay," Annie finally whispered. Maybe being Joxer reborn wasn't so bad after all. Maybe things really would work out okay...

"All right!" Hope cried out, grabbing the taller woman in a hug that surprised both of them with how right it felt. "This'll be great!"

Together they waded through the press of bodies to the door, feeling not at all strange when Annie took Hope's hand in hers as they walked away.

Snake watched them walk out together, and felt a surprising amount of satisfaction in the pairing. Hope was good people, despite her profession, and the tall woman certainly seemed to suit her well enough - and vice versa.

"You said it, cutie. They are gonna be just great together, and I oughta know. Heck, if blondie can't get sweetcheeks out of the dumps, I'll have to find myself a new gig."

Startled, since she hadn't thought she'd spoken aloud, Snake spun and was very surprised to see a buxom blonde woman wearing a diaphanous pink gown over a brief, sparkling, pink bikini standing in the spot vacated by Hope and Annie. She was absolutely gorgeous. "Why, hello. I didn't see you come in. Can I... get you anything?" she quickly asked, pausing suggestively as she tried to keep from drooling over the woman's obvious charms.

The woman's eyes openly roved up and down Snake's frame, pausing on the tattoo on her scalp. Snake found herself unconsciously straightening, her muscles flexing as she tried to pose to her best advantage. "Nice tat," the blonde finally said, her eyes dancing with barely suppressed glee.

"Thanks," the bartender breathed, leaning forward to give the blonde an unobstructed glimpse down her bared cleavage. "I've got another one. Wanna see it?"

Amazingly, the blonde's eyes dropped to exactly the spot the hidden tattoo resided, despite it being completely covered by her leather pants. "Ooh," she drawled. "I can see why they call you Snake," she leered in delight.

The bartender somehow found herself blushing under the heat of the blonde's gaze. "Who told you?" she asked in amused dismay, before being forced to turn away to mix a drink for another customer.

By the time Snake turned back, the blonde woman was gone. Somehow, despite her disappearance, the blonde's cheery laughter managed to linger in the air for several minutes after she was gone.