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"Well, well, well, Bela. Here we are again." Kate twirls her knife in her fingers, expertly managing to avoid the blade. "You know, after the last time we crossed paths, I would've thought I'd made the lesson we had for you perfectly clear."
"Perhaps you ought to try a different teaching style," Bela says, shrugs, and crosses one leg over the other, lets one of her pumps dangle off her foot. She smooths her hands over her skirt and arches an eyebrow. "Something that doesn't end in angry sex would probably make your intended lessons more accessible. It wouldn't muddle the message up quite so much."
"The message was pretty simple, though: you get to keep consulting, or procuring unique items for a select clientele, or whatever it is you do—"
"It's a little bit of column A, but mostly column B—"
"I don't care—as long as you break it off with helping out the demons, and the werewolves, and the nasty, slimy supernatural crap." Kate huffs, and all Bela can think is that she sounds like what a dragon must sound like—and if she's a dragon, then she's an incredibly pissed off dragon who's tilting her knife around in the light as though the way it glistens will send a chill down Bela's spine.
Maybe it does—but only just a little bit. Bela's seen worse—she's seen worse from Kate herself, at that.
Kate probably realizes this too, just judging from the way she glares down at Bela. "It's one simple rule we asked you to follow, Princess. You help out humans and humans only, period, end of discussion."
"Yes, I seem to remember that point coming up in our discussion…" Bela pauses and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "But I also know that I don't have to explain myself to you or to anyone. I've done nothing to impede your current hunt and you have no right to keep me here—no matter what the local law enforcement thinks about you being… what's your alias this week? Special Agent Laura Viers? Special Agent Lita Ford? Special Agent Nancy Wilson? Some other, similar nonsense that you're hardly dressed for, I'm sure."
"What, because Ms. Mina Chandler from the Post-Gazette is really so much cleverer as a nickname." Kate rolls her eyes, shakes her head, slides the knife back into her thigh-holster. She takes a seat. Both elbows on the table, she leans toward Bela, smirking like the same way her knife flashed in the fluorescent lights.
"Don't forget, Bela," she says, her voice a low, dry whisper. "I can ruin you. Hunters might be desperate, but all I have to do is tell the right ones that you work with demons and—poof. Your whole operation goes up in smoke."
"Oh, Sweetie—you underestimate me terribly. I think I'm offended that you'd presume I'm so helpless." Bela presses her lips into a thin, tight line. Lets them quirk just a little bit—she leans in toward Kate without hesitation or regret. Underneath the table, she uncrosses her legs, slides her foot over into Kate's personal space and nudges her ankle into Kate's. She slips further up, dragging her the side of her foot along the seam of Kate's denim, along the muscles of Kate's calf.
"Let's not forget that I know things about you, too, Kate. Not even about you and me—but I've heard things from a little werewolf named Derek Hale…" Bela forces a sigh, pointedly glances back at the door. "And other hunters might not mind how far you're willing to go… but I think some people in law enforcement back in Beacon Hills might love to hear about who started the Hale fire. And about what she did with an underage boy beforehand."
Kate wrinkles her nose and almost growls. "You'd take some mutt's word over mine and go tattle on me to Sheriff Stilinski—all for what? All so you can keep working with a bunch of demons? A bunch of mouth-breathing, snake-in-the-grass demons who probably want to destroy the world?" Kate smacks the table, narrows her eyes. "You make me sick," she whispers like a prayer.
Bela leans in close enough to kiss her and hisses right into Kate's mouth, "My sentiments exactly. I suppose I'll just see you in Hell, then, won't I?"