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You would be wise to tread softly on my grounds."

"My words were not meant to harm, but monsieur, you are not the Toymaker."

From the shadows came a glint of silver as he met the other side of a .38. "I implore you to say that again," the figure said with confidence appropriate of the situation. The threat was marked by the resounding crack of a pistol's hammer being cocked.

He stared at the bearer of the weapon. Through the shadows, he could make out a slightly amused expression on the figure's face. No, he thought. No time to play games. "Please, I simply wish the presence of the Toymaker."

A female voice startled him.

"I haven't heard that name in a long time," it said. It was a dark and husky voice – commanding, less feminine and yet those qualities lent it an air of sensuality.

From the darkness, beside the shadow-clad figure, emerged the speaker. The way she sauntered towards the table suggested nobility and authority.

Quite surprised, he looked up at her, the lady he saw before. He took in the glamour she exuded. The calf-length suede suit she wore accentuated her modest but graceful curves, and further enhanced the elegance carved on her features.

She placed a hand on her hip and exhaled a mist of gray. "Leave us," she said, dropping the spent cigarette on the floor and crushing it beneath her high-heeled boots.

At her words, the figure in the darkness pocketed the revolver. He offered his seat to his mistress, and left without a second look.

Once comfortable, she lit another cigarette.

"Tell me, how did you come upon that name?" she asked, the twin jades of her eyes glued to him.

"If you're thinking I would just pluck the answer from your mind then it's going to be a long night," she said after he failed to come up with a reply. "I'm no psionic."

"Pardon madam, I just never expected the Toymaker to be a woman."

She gave a short, sincere laugh. "I get that a lot." Her orange-dyed lips puckered slightly as she breathed out a solid line of smoke. "Do I displease you? Would you wish that I take another form?"

"Madam please, do not bother yourself with my foolishness."

"Worry not for I wouldn't have," she said with a teasing smile. "And please...call me Faust."

"Faust," he said, as if pondering its meaning. "It is not the name I know you to have, but it is an intriguing name nonetheless."

"And what is this ‘name' you know me to have?" she asked, her shaped eyebrow arching in amusement.

"I'd rather not say."

"Ah, a gentleman you really are," she said. "So tell me, what is your business here? I have never met another of our kind for the longest time. Are you here to taste the pleasures of this world or have you simply grown tired of ours?"

Before he could utter a word, a man appeared beside their table, delaying his reply. "Your drinks, Ms. Faust," the man said in a toneless voice as he placed steaming cups on their table.

Contrary to the liquid's murky appearance was the enticing aroma it brought forth. Its heat though, was repelling to his touch.