The smith shop was bouncing, old, pre-ignition music playing as Mocha worked to true Barb's new barrels. She bounced her hips to the beat of the song as she watched a thin shaving trail of steel fall free of the new barrel, the music guiding the pace of her movements as she swayed and bounced in place. She absolutely adored pre-ignition music and dance standards. There was something so novel about doing things the way people had decades earlier that really livened the experience. It was like… maintaining a tradition.

Not to mention, it was vulgar, something the little redhead had always enjoyed. There was something so alluring about taboo, so enticing about going against the grain. She liked it when older people caught wind of what she had going on in her headsets. The indignant faces and resentful scowls of people twice her age enjoying their life half as much. It made her spine tingle.

Looking down at barb, she checked the newly constructed, graduated trigger for the action. The over and under pump action design was complex and, in most situations, impractical, as a break action was a more accurate way of delivering shells. However, with the proper mana threading and some good engravings which were Mocha's specialty, the shells would slide right into place so long as the array wasn't damaged. This made for a much smoother, quicker to use weapon than the break action would be, with less chances of shell fumbling during stressful situations.

Mocha knew that the outskirts were nothing but stressful situations. With the calamity that had been the ignition, it was now commonplace that certain people with powers and even entire races of people were now resistant or even immune to conventional bullets. Those weren't even the worst of things, because wild animals suped up on mana roamed the outlands, warring, feasting, and terrorizing anything in sight. A calm stroll out along the outskirts of town could turn into a high speed explosive pursuit and then into a full on monster stampede within under a minute out there. It was a dangerous world now, and so she gave her friends and customers the best possible options for surviving. In return, she got herself a faithful customer base, which, in turn, meant a consistent income.

Her trade nowadays was magic enhanced weaponry. Enchanted guns, bullets packed with magic powder to cast spells, bayonets and blades coated and set to resist and eat magic barriers were only a taste of what Mocha produced. And in a world where the average man could be crushed under the palm of some jackass with a mystic quirk parading about as a "god", protection like what the redhead could offer was in high demand for any who could afford it. Mocha was happy to even out the playing field.

Reaching over to the trigger, she was about to reservice the parts when she heard the telltale knock on her bullet proof drop plate, a sliding, glass door at the top of the stairs that led into the main shop,which was likely closed. The door was meant to not only keep the sounds of the shop out of the main business, but to also act as a barrier should there be a break-in or larger scale attack. The working girls all had the code to come in and lock the place down during an emergency.

The knocking meant this wasn't an emergency, so Mocha took a moment to dance her way over to the com and see just who was knocking on her door at this time of night. What she found had her smiling and shaking her head.

On the other side of the com, in front of the lit camera, was the chocolate, perfect face of her snow-white clad play-rival, Falian. The dark-skinned woman had silver-white, windswept hair, down to the ivory, side swept lashes on her big, pale-yellow eyes. Her figure did nothing to hint at the unnatural strength she held in that toned body of hers, and the gun at her shoulder, one of Mocha's own make, served to further the illusion that she wasn't a physical powerhouse. Mocha knew better, though. She had been on the receiving end of displays of that strength and grace, and she was happy they were friends while in the city.

"Little doll, little doll, let me come in," she crooned, her almond eyes twinkling with amusement as she made her joke.

"Jokes on you, bitch. I don't have facial hair," Mocha chuckled, pressing the release button on the console next to the monitor where she viewed that entry camera. The bullet proof door hissed and then slid to the side, allowing her friend down and into the shop. "Or body hair, for that matter!" She called to Falian, lowering the volume of her music as the woman entered her space.

The click of Falians heels on the steel stairs stopped a moment after the door hissed back into place, and Mocha turned to face the stairs as she shut off the Lathe. The woman was stripping out of the silver heels, her white pants and top clinging to her curves. "Oh, I'm well aware of how bare your tender skin is, little doll," she growled back, walking silently the rest of the way down the stairs. "I heard from the girls upstairs that you were stepping away from the shop to take up some contract work."

Mocha sighed and nodded at that. "I am. Might be gone for the better part of a year," the petite woman confirmed, pulling over a pair of rolling chairs and kicking one over to Falian. As the chair rolled across the space she seated herself and waited to see why the woman was asking. The shifter woman didn't seem pleased, even as she stopped the stool with her foot.

Kicking it to the side, she stepped past it and closed in quickly on Mocha. Straddling her, the taller woman looked down at her, her expression judgemental. "And I am supposed to entertain myself how?" She growled, a scowl on her face that could make an orcs snarl look like an elvish smile. Her nose wrinkled as she apparently caught the scent of something rank, looking around for its source.

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"Not my problem, fluffy," Mocha teased, shrugging both shoulders. "I'm not your personal punching bag." She peeked past her glasses to find Falian glaring daggers at her. "Oh come on. There has to be someone in the wilds as fun to shoot at as I am."

"There is not. And you know this. It is why I agreed not to hunt you down in the city. It is why your weapon sits at my back. Do relationships mean nothing to you?!" She growled, heat flowing off of her beautiful body as her rage built. She sniffed again, eying Mocha as she locked in on the source of the smell.

"Maybe they would if they weren't so weird," Mocha said, her tone turning indignant as she looked up into those pale yellow eyes with her baby blues. "I don't know if a 'friends in town, enemies outside of it' agreement is even actually a relationship, Mrs.Enforcer," she continued, bringing up their agreement again.

"It's more than that, little doll," the shifter insisted, huffing, "I have claimed your hea—"

"Claimed my head, yes. I know," Mocha cut her off before she could go onto her tirade only to squeak in discomfort as her hair was grabbed and her head yanked to the side. "OW! Hey!"

She struggled in vain as Falian held her neck craned and leaned in, sniffing her nape. "Who is this? Whose stench is on you?!" the shifter demanded, growling. The intensity of her displeasure was such that it made genuine panic rise in Mocha’s chest.

“The fuck is it with people manhandling me tonight?” the redhead asked, placing a hand to Falian to vie for some space. Standing up and pushing the shifter back before walking back over to the lathe, she tried to collect her thoughts. She could feel Falian moving after her as she stepped away. The shifter wasn’t happy and Mocha would answer for it or there would be hell to pay. “The person you smell on me is my ex boyfriend, Falian. He thought it would be a good idea to corner me in an alley tonight.”

“And he is dead?” the taller woman growled expectantly, a quality Mocha couldn’t quite put her finger on in her voice. She was calmer now, something gentle brushing down Mocha's neck and shoulder as she leaned against the Lathe. Falians warm breath ran down her nape as the woman cleaned her with what seemed like a handkerchief.

“Uhm… No?” she asked more than said, turning to look at Falian. Long slender fingers slipped back under her chin, cupping it and guiding Mocha.

“I will fix that myself, then," she assured Mocha quietly, backing the redhead up until she felt her ass press to the machine. Her hand guided the silk sash over Mocha's skin, the firm pressure encouraging circulation as Falian cleaned her around the neck, stroking away the lingering discomfort she felt from her time with her ex earlier in the evening. The smaller woman struggled not to lean into the touch. “I will clean you up. And when I leave here, he will learn that he is not allowed near you. Not allowed to put his stench here. I’ll take his spine...”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Mocha tried to protest, working a hand between her and the shifter as her eyes widened at the severe punishment that had just been proposed. “It’s fine, Falian. Sheesh. We already chased him off. He didn’t do anything serious.”

“Nothing serious? You are bruised, Little doll,” she said, cupping Mocha’s cheek. "Show me…" she said, her voice demanding as her presence, but gentle.

Mocha found herself leaning into that slender palm, the gentle touch calling to her. She exposed her neck, showing where Tab’s grip on her skin had caused it to darken. There was a distinct mark near the little notch behind her collar where his lips had caught her while he tried to reach the special spot.

“He tried to mark you,” she said, literally bristling with fury. With a practiced touch, she began to massage at the ring forming around Mocha's neck, stroking and pressing in ways that had the smaller woman seeing stars. Falian was a master in the physical arts to be sure, but she was secretly also great at giving massages. It wasn't until half a minute later, when her knees started wobbling that Mocha's brain caught up with what had been happening to her.

“Y-yeah, but it’s not like he’s never done anything more egregious to me," Mocha mumbled, not sure what to say to calm Falian down with her head all foggy again. It was hard to look her in the eyes with how intensely she was staring. Mocha only managed to meet that pale yellow gaze after she felt Falians hand settle on her hip, the cloth taken away from her neck and the hickey. Once again, Mocha found herself getting lost.

"I did not just claim your head, little doll," the taller woman said, her eyes piercing into Mocha as the pair of them looked into one another. Lifting Mocha's free hand she began running little pecks up her arm, the contact leaving Mocha tingling wherever her lips touched. "I claimed you. When you are ready again I will take you. No slimy musclehead that smells of gym sweat may have you."

Heat rose in Mocha's cheeks as she looked away, trying to escape that gaze, those feelings she'd been pushing down for an entire year. "Falian… I'm—" she started, but the shifter silenced her, placing a finger to her lips and shaking her head slightly. The protests died on her tongue.

Mocha's hand fell on a wide hip and pulled the woman close again as the kisses up her arm and across a small, round shoulder closed in on her sensitive neck. The redhead leaned into the lathe as Falians hot, powerful body pressed against hers. Their kisses were quiet, hungry, and passionate, punctuated by sharp stuttering gasps as the shifter easily manipulated her body.

When finally they broke apart, the petite gunsmith was panting as she looked at the woman who had just made her lose track of time and her location. Mocha didn't see a hunger that scared her in Falians eyes. She only saw playful joy, warmth, and passion. Falian was dangerous like that. She made Mocha want to give in.

" Good girl. All clean. Just… don't let some burned wood smelling asshole cut in front of me," she joked, giving Mochas ass a firm pinch before stepping away and letting the smaller girl breathe.

"Ouch!" Mocha protested, laughing with Falian and trying to swat the other woman. If she was forced to admit it, that kiss had felt good, very good. But what made her more comfortable with it was that Falian didn't seem to want to ignore her wish to be single. She felt something between them. But it was something she was not willing to explore right now. That was okay.