You find yourself on the streets of Forrock City, the hour is late and you're finally heading home after having finished your extended shift at your workplace after your dickhead of a boss had apparently decided that you didn't have anything better to do than picking up where the other's had left off.

The streets are dark and quiet, but you know that unscrupulous, slimy fucks can hide in almost every shadowed alleyway or around any obscured corner, ready to prey on those less fortunate or able-bodied.

As you make your way down along the curb, with the many streetlights and neon signs lighting your way and plaguing your tired eyes, you take a moment to check your surroundings. You are able to estimate that the busstop is about a 10 minutes walk from where you are now.

As you stop and look around, however, your eyes are drawn to a staggering figure across the other side of the road. It's a female half-breed, and a rather strikingly beautiful one at that. Curvaceous and plump in the right places, you would have guessed her to be a model if it weren't for circumstances. She is clearly intoxicated or under the influence of some kind of drug.

Suddenly, her head turns, her gaze meeting your own. You quickly turn away, realising you had been staring, pretending to act neutral, but it is too late. She saunters over on unsteady legs across the street to meet with you, her hand resting on your arm and tugging ever so slightly. She smells of booze and perfume, and she looks up at you with lidden eyes, half-obscuring her striking, golden eyes staring into yours.

"Hey there, handsome~ Wouldn't mind, like, helping lil' ol' me home, would'ya?"

She gives you an almost exaggeratedly grateful smile before leading you down the street in the direction opposite to where the busstop lay. "Thanks, man... Most people would just ignore me or worse..." Her words trail off as she continues to stumble along on shaky legs. Her eyes move from side-to-side, obviously struggling to keep her focus.

After walking for a minute or so, you see the door of a run down apartment complex in front of you. "Here we are..." She mumbles, not quite able to form words properly anymore. "I'm Fiona, but everyone just calls me..." Her gaze finds yours again and she grins lazily "...Fifi."

You get the distinct impression that she is actually trying to charm you with that smile. She wiggles her eyebrows up and down in a playful motion before leaning in close, speaking softly into your ear. "So... Wanna come inside? Maybe see if this puppy plays nice with wood?" Her breath tickles the sensitive skin behind your earlobe, making you shiver and involuntarily take a step back.

It's hard to tell how much of her words are so slurred they sound incoherent and how much is just casual teasing on her part, but you get the feeling that even when she isn't flirting, there's always an undertone to everything she says.

Fifi looks hurt and disappointed by your answer. "Oh..." She drawls out slowly before her shoulders sag slightly. "...Well... I guess that's fair. Maybe you could just... help me up to my apartment door, then? You know, so I don't pass out here in the hallway or nothing?" There is an almost pleading quality to her voice now, as if she has suddenly realised how helpless she truly appears at this moment and it's making her uncomfortable.

She waits for your response with hopeful, glassy eyes. Do you:

"Oh... thanks!" She beams up at you, apparently grateful for the offer. "You really are something special, you know that?" As you help her up to the apartment door and steady her on her feet with your arms wrapped gently around her back, she leans in even closer than before, pressing her soft bosom against your arm. "Don't suppose I could... give you my phone number or something? You seem like someone who knows how to have a good time."

Her breath fanned across your neck and face, sending shivers down your spine. Her eyelids lower ever so slightly, her gaze taking on an almost predatory quality as she waits for your response, a smile still plastered onto her lips.

Fifi giggles at your remark, her body swaying slightly closer to yours as she leans into the contact between you. "Yeah... maybe we should get me inside first..." Her voice trails off for a moment before growing more insistent. "...But I'm really serious about that phone number." She presses herself against you further, one hand moving up to rest on your shoulder while her other grips the hem of your shirt. "Don't be a tease~"

With what can only be described as an unsteady but determined grace, she finally manages to turn the key in the lock and pushes open the door. The smell that assaults your nose is less than pleasant; a mix of stale cigarette smoke, old food and sweat. It's dimly lit, illuminated only by a single bare light bulb dangling from the ceiling above. "Alright..." She mumbles, leaning against the door to steady herself as she peers around the room in apparent confusion. "...Where did I leave it...?"

Giving you an apologetic smile, she maneuvers herself away from the door and over to the closest piece of furniture - a ratty old sofa that almost matches her fur tone. She sits down hard onto it, letting out a long breath before continuing her search for her phone in the mess on the small table next to it. "It should be around here somewhere..." she mutters under her breath.

Without thinking twice about it, you move over to sit beside her on the sofa, your shoulder nearly brushing against hers as you watch her attempt to find her phone amidst a sea of trash and half-empty soda cans. "You know," you say casually, trying not to sound accusatory or judgmental, "you might wanna think about slowing down with the alcohol... seems like this happens to you a lot." You gesture vaguely toward the mess on the table as you speak.

Fifi gives another sigh and finally locates her phone beneath a mountain of crumpled fast food wrappers. Pulling it out triumphantly, she blows dust off of it before flipping it open. "Yeah... I've had my fair share of problems with that," she agrees, voice much softer now. Her gaze meets yours for a moment before looking away again, seemingly deep in thought.

She glances down at her phone, debating whether or not to actually enter your number into the contact list, and then finally seems to come to a decision. "Well... if you're ever bored or just want some company...?" She leaves the sentence hanging there, her eyes darting up to meet yours again briefly before looking away once more, as if suddenly shy about her own boldness.