Chapter Text
Faye sat in her room on the Bebop, contemplating her makeup and trying not to think too hard about a certain curly-headed Cowboy who was back on the ship. Back on the ship and mostly back in one piece, now that they’d separated him from the Red Dragon Tower by several months. When she’d pulled him out of the wreckage that day, she was convinced he was dead.
They all were.
And yet.
He breathed.
He lived.
And now that he could walk and talk and think coherently again, he was just as annoying as he was before. Complaining about the state of the food, the state of the ship, and the state of his companions. Jet had been dragging him out on small bounties just to give him something to do. That helped.
Sort of.
Because even when he wasn’t on the ship, Faye found her thoughts straying to him more and more.
Ed started making kissy faces at her behind his back.
Faye nearly punched her the last time she did it, but Ed danced nimbly out of the way with her usual, “No, no, Faye Faye!”
Which, of course, made him look over his shoulder at Faye with that eyebrow cocked, cigarette dangling from his lips, deck of cards flowing through his agile fingers even though he wasn’t looking at them. He’d dealt his and Jet’s hands for their next round of poker while looking Faye in the eye.
Faye looked away first.
She shivered and slammed her makeup brush down on the table. “Stupid cards, stupid cowboy,” she muttered. “Why do I even care?! It’s not like he cares about me. He’s just a dead-end road, Faye.”
Even when she’d all but told him to his face that she loved him, he walked away. Walked away and almost died.
Dumbass cowboy.
She huffed and rummaged in her make-up bag, looking for her lipstick case. When she pulled it out, she stopped, the light catching and reflecting off a thin line of tick marks scored on the lid.
Twelve.
Twelve dates.
Twelve nights.
Twelve wallets.
Faye smirked.
Poker Alice’s conquests. She’d broken all their hearts, after pulling them in and wrapping them so tight around her little finger they’d barely been able to breathe. They were all handsome, she supposed, in their own ways, though she couldn’t specifically bring any of their faces to mind anymore. They all sort of blended into a blandly handsome man with a nice jawline, a suit, and the right things to say to a girl looking to steal his money.
She traced the ticks with one finger.
The next would be unlucky number thirteen.
She hadn’t put a mark on the lipstick case in over a year now. Running with the Bebop, she hadn’t needed to. Even though she griped about it, she’d come to enjoy Jet’s company and Ed’s shenanigans, and even the furball’s soft cuddles. And the...sort of...steady income.
But especially the bemused gaze of one lean, dark-headed cowboy.
Who didn’t seem to notice that his glance sent her heart leaping into her throat.
Faye shook her head. “Get it together, girl. He’s an impossible target.”
Impossible.
Faye paused.
No one was impossible. Not for Faye Valentine. There wasn’t a warm-blooded man on the nine planets who could resist Faye forever.
He was certainly cold-blooded enough, but there had to be a spark in there somewhere, right?
Faye slid one finger across the empty space where mark number thirteen would go.
One more conquest.
One last tick.
Faye smiled. He’d be difficult, obviously. He’d be the hardest case yet. He’d resist. He’d complain. And it wasn’t even like there was a wallet at the end of this one for her.
But maybe...maybe there’d be something else. Something better.
Mark thirteen.
Spike Spiegel.
Faye pulled a vibrant red out of the case and painted her lips.