Good Little Valkyrie

Part 2

You eyeball the man sitting across from you, cracking your knuckles. He has no idea who he's messing with, you're going to break him in half. You smirk through the smokey air, crossing your arms as you lean back into your chair.

"You sure you wanna do this, big boy?" you say, narrowing your black painted eyes. The biker snorts, bald-headed with a scar going down his cheek. He wears a lot of silver rings, he's a nasty sort, completely not worthy of Valhalla, you can read his soul like an open book. 

"Bring it, bitch." he slams his hand against the table, adding to the pool of fifty bucks. You grin, and lean forward, offering your hand as you press your elbow into the scarred, mysteriously damp grain of the table in your bar. You twiddle your fingers playfully at him, amused.

Stupid humans.

His beefy fingers close around yours, his buddies half-lit and clapping him on the shoulder for easy money. Yeah, you get this sort a lot, you get a load of satisfaction out of humiliating him, and technically you're not on the clock yet so your boss can't say shit. You bat your long lashes, squeezing his hand.

You see his brows crease at the strength in your grip.

You're a fucking valkyrie, he doesn't stand a chance.

You give it a moment, waiting for the queue, although you notice he tries to slam your hand down a millisecond before the signal is given. You snort, letting him bend your arm back, just to make him think he's going to win, just to make him think he has it in the bag. You never stop smirking, your eyes focused on his face menacingly, and your grin only gets bigger when you start to turn the tables on him.

You slowly apply a little more strength, seeing the muscles jump in his arm as you recenter on the table, and easily begin bending his knuckles towards the table. Arm wrestling is something you enjoy, it's not often you get to expel your excess energy, get to give it all your go --- you have to be careful with these delicate humans, you don't want to break anything and get yourself into trouble.

Still, easy money.

A one, a two, a three ---.

His hand slams against the table, and he barely masks his wince with a scowl as you crow your victory, throwing your arms into the air with a cackle. There's a surprised silence as you take down the big bad biker man in his stained t shirt and black vest --- he's not even muscle, it's all flab, for that matter. 

"Sorry, loverboy," you obnoxiously pull the money towards your side of the table, pleased. "Maybe drink more milk."

The biker stares for a moment, taken back, before abruptly shoving to his feet, blustering that you're cheating him. You purse your lips as you lean back in your rickety chair, hastily gathering your money into a neat pile. You slip it down into your bra for safe keeping, arching one sculpted brow up at him.

"How could I cheat you?" You bat your lashes tauntingly. "You're the big bad biker, aren't you? I'm just the bartender. You're supposed to be strong." 

Your voice is so sugary sweet you know it only makes it worse, and you rise to your feet. Does he want to fight? You're so up for it if he is. You haven't had a good rumble in a long time, that's for sure. 

You used to get in trouble all the time in valkyrie school for picking fights with your sisters, getting them angry enough to jump on you or just starting it yourself. You get so restless sometimes, it's no fun being good and never getting to expel your pent up energy!

You've found you have a penchant for breaking the rules, there's just something about that type of adrenaline rush, of knowing you could get caught at any moment that really gets your blood pumping! It's not like there's some great war for you to fight in, where you can physically tear people apart and have their blood shower across your skin --- well, that's how dramatic the books made it look when valkyries weren't just myths.