The crowd roared around her as Fern landed another punch to the other woman's shoulder, only to feel a fist connect with her cheek. Her head snapped to the side, and she spat out some more blood, a grin sliding onto her battered face as she brushed some of her sweat-slicked curly hair out of her eyes. Fern's fists tightened, her hands tensing under the bandages that wrapped them. This one had some fight in her. She liked that in a woman.

Her opponent took her momentary pause as her freezing up, and attempted to land another blow. Oh, sweetheart. She wasn't that weak. Quickly, Fern ducked, causing the other fighter to falter, which she fully took to her advantage.

SMACK

The other woman was sent stumbling backwards, until she eventually collapsed on the floor, Fern looming over her.

More applause surrounded them, sprinkled with the occasional "Damn it!" as someone realized they lost a bet. Fern's grin widened.

"You fought well," She murmured, her voice sharp despite the blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. "be proud you lasted this long. Most don't."

Fern helped her up after her victory was declared. She was a good sport, after all.

----

The familiarity of the club pulsed around her as she ordered another drink. Fern knew she could probably be spending her time somewhere a bit less... shady, but it was practically a tradition to come here after a victory. Even if she didn't have anyone to celebrate with. Anyways, the drinks were cheap, and that was enough for her. Besides, it wasn't like the place wasn't popular. The crowd would find her. It always did.

Soon enough, she was under the flashing lights, drunk and high on who knows what. After she was thoroughly exhausted, Fern collapsed back into a bar stool near the exit, chest heaving as her eyes scanned the crowded room. At one point a guy attempted to chat her up, to which she promptly replied with "Not my type". She groaned, her hand coming up to rub her now pounding her as she called over a bartender.

"Could I get a, uh..." She hiccuped, then looked up.

Holy shit. She could feel her eyes widening. Who is this fucking goddess? She internally cringed at how corny her drunken thoughts were.

"You know, I... I was gonna order a drink, but..." Her words slurred a little bit, her faint British accent adding an interesting touch to them. "... maybe I could just order one of you instead?"

Fern's hand slid to her pocket, taking out what was left of the wad of cash she had gotten as a reward from her latest fight and shoving into the unsuspecting hands of the hottie in front of her before the unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on how you look at it) soul could protest.

"If you're up for it, I could make this entire night a whole lot better." She paused, a flirtatious look on her freckled face. "Give it to your boss and ask for the night off. I'm sure they'll happily comply. Of course, if you don't wanna..." She shrugged. "Keep the tip, princess. I'm Fern, by the way. How bout you? Lemme put a name to that pretty face."

Would she regret giving away that hunk of cash in the morning? Probably. Was it worth it? Probably not, to be honest. But Fern was never one to overthink things. Flirt first, ask questions later.