~ NO SPOILERS ~

The ice cube floated, unbothered, slightly sinking into the alcoholic substance she requested. Whilst being referred to as an ice cube, by common practice, it was anything but a cube. Then again, cubes are only an idea and the intent was present. The intent to mold water by freezing it into a shape built by six identical square surfaces, that is. It rotated at an excruciatingly slow rhythm, occasionally tilting at one of its rounded jagged corners, concurrently tipping furthermore into the receptacle. Voices bounced off the piece of ice, after tunnelling down the inside of the container.

   "Don't worry, I'm not here for business."

The first voice was delicate, smooth and taunting, it glided across the solid molecules of water. She was the one who had ordered the drink. Her shadow hovered over the ice, a tantalizing silhouette despite the distortion it underwent against it. The figure curved in all the right places and moved as elegantly as a stream of water, perhaps more. The reflection of a slender hand crossed the glass and temporarily modified the manner the light divided when it caught the ice cube's surface. The lean fingers brushed a strong wrist, resting on the bar.

   "I thought you never stopped working."

The rough hand pulled away and the second voice, deep and firm, vibrated against the ice. Just as perceptive as the water particles were, the first person briskly replied:

   "I can't think about sleeping with anyone else when you're in the room."

A thin and controlled snake of smoke grazed the brim of the glass, spilling barely above the increasingly melting piece of ice. The cube of frozen water was suddenly marked with a strip of heat emerging from the tip of a smoking pipe, snatched back into the bartender's possession from the prostitute's nimble hands. The ice cube arose, following its container. It ran down the flow of alcohol as it was drawn from the cup by a pair of seemingly unpainted lips. The side of the cube skimmed the warm, slightly glossy and smeared off red lips, before colliding with the bottom of the receptacle it was trapped in. A narrow pool of the beverage remained, indicating that maybe its short existence wasn't destined to end already. The glass was swinging in mid-air, expertly held by the skilled fingers of its current owner. The piece of ice wobbled back and forth, sliding around the base of the container. The low, and apparently older, voice trembled over the frozen block of water.

   "Don't make me kick you out. If you've still got some pride, I'll let you walk out of here on your own."

   "Flattering yourself, aren't you? I'm meeting someone, actually. Not everything is about you, Vander."

   "There was a time when you would've told me the opposite."

   "Please, you're making our relationship sound terribly one-sided."

   "Since when did you get over my devilish charm and ocean blue eyes?"

   "Oh, there was a lot more to get over than that..."

The cup was rested once again upon the bar, the edge of the ice cube clinked against the side of its prison. The long polished nails casting a shadow over the contents of the receptacle glided away. A soft current of air whooshed past the solidified chunk of cold water, created by the quick rotating motion of the drinker's body, but mostly her luscious hair. Some of her wilder curls brushed the rim of the cup. Four silhouettes appeared against the ice. One round, one tall, one skinny, one small. The prostitute's leather-covered back arched away from her drink.

   "Hey, kiddo."

The other voices were too distant to get picked up by the ice, they weren't loud and blended into the background noise.

   "Perhaps we could talk somewhere more private, right, Powder?"

The ice cube suddenly knocked against the glass, deftly elevated by its user. The last of the liquid was directed down her throat and the block of frozen water was now left in an empty container, doomed to melt and never make a beverage colder again in its present assembly. The cup was slammed upon the bar, with a kind of suppressed and nonchalant anger.

   "I am not here to hire someone or... Whatever it is you're imagining, Grumpy."

Her pointed elbows supported her as she inched back towards the bar by unrolling her spine.

   "Powder, your associates may follow and witness our exchange, but advise them that you're the only one I'll be speaking to."

She contemptuously glanced at her nails, this movement reflecting and spreading a wave of color across the ice cube. The four individuals left the section of the bar that was mirrored against the receptacle. Yet, before she could slither off her stool to walk behind them, a robust hand landed on her shoulder.

  "She'll find you."

His comment didn't resonate quite as loudly upon the ice, indicating he wasn't talking to her, but rather to the others. He subtly dug his thumb deeper under her shoulder blade, approaching from behind. With a low voice only she and the block of ice perceived, he threatened:

   "If you hurt those kids or get 'em mixed up in one of your schemes, I'll kill you."

   "You couldn't..." she distractedly said.

The clinking of glass against glass sounded into her cup and alcohol filled it. The half-melted chunk of frozen water bounced gleefully, floating once again in a sufficient quantity of liquid it could make colder.

   "My offer still stands."

This time, he raised the cup with his free hand and pointed at the exit with it. The cube of ice whirled around excitedly, as she grabbed it out of his grasp to take a long, slow, sip.

   "It's still useless."

More commotion shook the ice as he took possession of the container, their fingers brushing for a split second. His grip tightened, his fingers nearly grinding her bones to dust. A quiet gasp escaped her and, when he released her, she moaned softly. She smoothly arched her back inward, to look at him, even upside down. She was so flexible that her head might have been able to touch the top of the bar.

   "Oh, do me a favor and kill me with those hands..."

Her request was both sultry and pleading, she was somehow dazed and excited. She sat straight and stepped off the stool. Composing herself, she exhaled and delicately snatched her drink from the counter. She defied his dumfounded expression, anchoring her eyes into his glare, before spinning away. She rolled her sore shoulder, then waltzed off, a natural at avoiding the staggering drunks and incohesively placed tables in her way. The ice cube floated, unbothered, slightly sinking into the alcoholic substance she didn't need to request.