A blonde woman - we'll say a young blonde woman, because no one would want to risk insulting her by telling her she looks old - sat alone at one of the round tables, just off the center of the main room. The dim lighting in the nightclub didn't take away from the attractive aura hovering around her, though it did make one wonder what she was doing with those sleek sunglasses on, and that deep red clingy dress that belonged somewhere more,... lively.

She was hovering a fingernail around the rim of a wineglass and making it sing, with that eerie high-pitched hum. The glass was half-empty,... she hadn't taken a sip in over half an hour. It looked as if she was waiting for company, but no one dared approach her, even though she'd been stared at most of the evening. Such a pretty thing - what was she doing here?

Keye slid into the chair across from her, appearing smooth (as smooth as Keye can be, anyway), poised, and unafraid.
The key word there is appearing. He was absolutely terrified of course.
He was smirking, and he was wearing his own sunglasses. That made it appear that he was making eye contact, while in actuality, his gaze was free to roam.
"Well, well. Fancy meeting you here. I woulda 'spected a casino or something."
Conversational. He didn't want to appear combative by getting down to business immediately. Besides, he needed some time to gather his thoughts; he hadn't exactly been expecting to see her here, after all.
He was dressed nicely, by the way: the same sort of clothes he wore on his date with Jetta. Leather pants, boots, neater hair than usual. All black of course. Handsome, in an 'out there' sort of way.

Fortuna raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Well, hello, there. Haven't seen you lately, darling," she said sweetly. She smiled, too, but in a very, very sharp sort of way. She ceased toying with the wine glass, and delicately shook a finger at him. "It can't be fun and games all the time, you know,... one has to keep up appearances, but also,... sometimes,... one must relax."

She stretched, arching her back and letting her arms describe a graceful arc before coming to rest at her sides.
"How's life been treating you, Keye darling?" she queried, smiling in a way that showed too much of her teeth.

He thought--briefly--about saying 'horribly', but discarded the notion, because (oddly enough) it wasn't true.
"Pretty good."
Gained something almost like a family, met a great girl (even if she doesn't like him that way), almost finished his college application essay...pretty good indeed.
He doesn't like constantly tripping and falling, missing the bus, slipping in nasty puddles, or sitting down on benches with gum on the seats, though. Minor inconveniences, but still irritating. And, somewhere deep in his subconscious, it would be nice to be able to die, if he really, really wanted to.

"That's nice," she said. Of course she didn't mean it.

She leaned forwards on the table, on her elbows, smiling with her lips pressed firmly together. "What will be done about that, I wonder... " she mused, picking up her wine glass and swirling the contents so that they came dangerously close to spilling over the rim, and therefore onto Keye's clothes. Amazingly (or not, depending on how you looked at it), nothing spilled.

"You're out for some fun tonight, are you? I'm available," she said, in a husky whisper. Her idea of fun wouldn't match Keye's at all, and she knew it. But she liked to tease.

"What kind of fun?" he asked warily. He doubted he'd like it, but it couldn't hurt to get her in a more favorable mood before venturing his...challenge of sorts.

"Oooh, I don't know..." she sighed, "We could go out for a drink,... have a night on the town, and then go back to a nice, high-altitude balcony for some passionate lovemaking,... and afterwards, you will have a luckily nonfatal accident, because by some chance you slipped -"
She tipped the glass to illustrate her point.
"-and fell over the side. What do you think?"

There's a saying. It goes something like, "Luck's a whore".
And it's true.
But don't tell her that to her face.

Keye was not keen on that idea at all, but he decided to play along...at least for a little while. (He needs some nice, ordinary mortal to smack him in the face and tell him he's playing a dangerous game.)
"Depends on how much permanent damage is done by that chance fall."

"Well,... I don't know,... we'll be quite high up, darling," she said conspiratorially, "I suppose it depends on just how high up we'll be,... and whether you break your spine when you hit the ground. We'll wait and see, shall we?"

Aw, he was trying to play it cool. How very gutsy. It was too bad that gutsy couldn't get you very far.

"Well, now, what if you decide you liked that passionate lovemaking, hm? I can't very well give you more if I'm paralyzed."
Smirk. He leaned in close. Notice how much more confident he is with his glasses on.
"What do you say to a lower altitude?"

She smiled broadly, and imitated him in moving closer, until their faces were almost touching.

"That's what you think," she whispered, her fingers 'walking' across the table towards him until they were close enough to lock around his shirt so she could have a hold on him. She didn't yank him towards her, but pulled... veeery slowly.

"And it's way up, or nothing," she breathed.

His breath caught and he turned his head as if to kiss her. He stopped himself, though.
She was hard to resist.
She was gorgeous and intoxicating...like winning at roulette over and over, and you feel good enough to bet it all...
Keye was only human, after all, and she was much more than that.
"How about we play a little game instead..."
Lady Luck enjoys games, doesn't she?
"...if I win, you take the curse off me, and we find somewhere not too high up...or nowhere at all, if I feel like. If you win..."
Closer still.
"...anything you please."

"A game...? Sounds delightful," she said, smiling as if a laugh was waiting to burst from her lips - was he really so easily fooled? Well, what did she care,... she couldn't lose. Foolish, foolish boy...

Her fingers untangled from his shirt, and caressed his neck, - slowly, as if she was petting a cat. "And what game do you propose we play, darling?"

He supressed the thick terror rising in his throat (he hated it when his neck was touched) and smiled, leaning closer yet, so that his breath was against her ear...barely.
"Chess."

"Chess?"

She recoiled, her lip curling in a way that indicated extreme disgust. Her nails made the faintest of scratches on Keye's neck as she took her hand away.

"You'll have to do better than that, darling," she said.

"Not up to it?"
The subtext here is Afraid to step out of your own turf?
"It's that or nothin'. "
That scratch hurt, by the way, but only a little. It didn't even warrant an indrawing of breath.

"Who do you think you are to be calling the shots?" she asked, smirking as if this didn't trouble her at all. "Fine, darling, I'll play your game, but don't expect to win."

She may be the deity of Luck, and not Strategy,... that didn't mean she couldn't play chess.
And she didn't like to back down from a challenge. Vanity, you know.

"I don't think I'm anybody...I just decided to chance it."
Smirk.
Not an overconfident smirk, no. Overconfidence destroys the state of mind.
"I'll play black. Got anywhere in particular in mind to play?"

"Here will work just fine," she said, gesturing to the table... upon which there was suddenly a chess board, and the pieces were all in place. She ran a fingernail over the edges as if testing them, then sat back.

"I wonder what I'll do with you when you lose..." she said. Overconfidence was not a word that she thought could apply to her.

"Whatever you like," he replied, but his voice was already distant.
Chess can take quite a while, if you aren't playing with timers, and Keye took his time...no sense in rushing it. He was resting quite a lot on this (more than was apparent from the conversation, I think).
But, slowly, the board grew sparser, and the pieces' positions shifted. Keye's vague smirk never left his face. It wasn't a smug expression, just something to put there.

And finally, Keye made a move, double-checked, triple-checked...
"Checkmate."
No pun intended.

Fortuna stared at the board for a moment.
She'd lost.
She'd lost.

She looked up at Keye, with something very like a bitter smirk on her lips. "Well played," she said coldly. "You win."

"All I ask is that you take off the curse."
He said it humbly. The smile was gone from his face.
Making her angry now could end very very badly.
He'd won his game and now he was trying to both collect his prize and placate her.

"You've got it, babe," she said, with a snap of her fingers (which was just for show). She looked deflated, but quickly recovered her poise. Being the easily offended deity that she was, she looked almost irked that he hadn't asked for more from her... it wasn't every day you won a game against a goddess.

"Is that all?" she asked, giving him a faint, seductive smile that didn't look fake at all.

It's the thought of tumbling from high balconies that deterred him, you know.
Still, she looked peeved.
He compromised by aiming lower.
"A kiss."

This seemed to satisfy her, and she smirked at him.
"That seems reasonable," she said, leaning over the table towards him and lightly placing her fingertips under his chin, her nails not touching at all. She kissed him like she meant it, long enough for the feeling to last.

"Was that to your liking?" she breathed, pulling away slowly. Her nails drew along the side of his face, then she dropped her hand. She stood up, making a show of delicately brushing off her dress.

"Very."
He leaned back in his chair and, for the first time, allowed a self-satisfied smirk to cross his face. Unnish mortals could probably have told him that that was a mistake...but Keye is not known for his wisdom, now is he?

And...no reason to stick around. He wanted to go home, so he stood himself.
"Good game, Lady." he added. No one could accuse him of being a bad sport. "You gave me a run for my money." It wasn't true, though; he'd known he could beat her (and how to do it, too) from the very beginning.
Then he turned and left, heading home, proud of himself.