Like Toy Soldiers(Natasha/Lukas)

"Fair, fair, suppose ya have come er' for somethin' heavier than a cig," Mary would chortle softly as she placed the offered cigarette within her pocket. Crossing her legs as she sat back, she'd flicker the flame on her lighter in curious expectation, awaiting to hear an answer as to what led him to ending up in prison. Violence. Go figure. It seemed to always be what led most into the slammer, regardless of who they might be. The law wasn't always fair with that. Beat the wrong person down and you end up spending half of or even your whole life locked away behind steel bars. That neither here nor there, though.

They had a customer and he seemed as if he wanted to indulge in something and celebrate his release from prison with something potent. She'd happily oblige, and so she snapped her fingers for some of the other men to bring a few suitcases forward and set them down, ordering them to snap each of them open to present a vast array of all manner of illegal substances, certainly nothing that ought be sold within the confines of the City of Lights. Hallucinogens, Narcotics, substances that had been crafted with their own hands... in other words, the works. Almost anything a true substance abuser could ask for. What caught his fancy among all of it? She wondered.

Rising from her chair to tap at his shoulder, clearly violating all manner of propriety regarding his personal space, Mary would grin with a cigarette in her mouth and a curious glint in her crimson red eyes.

"We've got much to choose from' if your willin' to offer the right price. As you can see, we don't take too kindly' to those who choose to try and pull one over on us, so even bein' fresh out of prison, there should be something to offer us in return, no? We can make a fun time of it'."

THE CITY OF LIGHT
He hoped the audio was picking up.

One eye stayed on the bouncer from before, trailing his movement to the back, hiding it behind his glasses. He'd give the woman some faux attention, tilting to keep his ear covered in hair. Their concern here was the trafficking of the drugs, not so much the actual quality. Quantity wouldn't be easy to pin down unless they made mistakes, but for Lukas?

Things were textbook for once.

Then the fucking question. "I, uh." His gaze refocused, a snap into reality. He'd straighten himself, patting his jacket before he pulled out a wad of notes. The plastic's yellow hue was bright against his clothing, a short breath sucked between teeth.

"I thought that was what the money was for?" He'd let the last word slur against the edge of his mouth, the drawling of a drunkard. Intentional or otherwise.

A slight frown creased his lips, the vision from before slipping in frame by frame. But the evidence came coming, and his hand would grip tight against the side of his leg, white knuckles beneath the bandage. It was taking everything he had to pretend this much - Damn sting operations.