Hotel Bars were a wonderful invention. In no other singular location could a man meet, booze up, and bang a woman with such ease. Qrow loved all three steps of the process, and streamlining it so that it didn't waste his time was even more appealing.

Not to mention that you were kicked out of half the bars in the city last night. He thought, running a hand through his black hair. This expensive of an establishment would have his favorite kind of women, too. Classy, high-brow women, just waiting for a devilish rogue that their parents surely wouldn't approve of, to come along and fuck them silly for one night. Qrow smirked to himself, lifting his whiskey to his lips and looking around the bar for one such woman. His scarlet eyes scoured the room, searching for an elegant beauty. His eyes fell to the bar where a tall, graceful woman sat alone, a drink in her hands.

Qrow couldn't contain his amusement at what he saw. That familiar white bun, the Atlesian uniform so prudishly buttoned up, and her long fingers tracing lines around the rim of her glass. Winter Schnee. Of course it would be Winter Schnee. He chuckled, standing up and strolling over to her brazenly. Anyone other than her, and he would approach more carefully, to ease into it. However, while Winter fit the idea of a class A broad, just like Qrow liked, he couldn't treat her like the others.

Winter Schnee was a different animal.

It only took their second encounter for Qrow to realize that, unlike most of the high class women he encountered, Schnee wouldn't bow so easily. She was far too prideful and buttoned up to ever even think about abandoning her values for one night of carefree fun, much less with Qrow. Winter Schnee wasn't a christmas present. She wasn't an enticing package, easily opened by delicate hands. Winter Schnee was an egg.

Her 'perfect soldier' act was a thin white shell. While it wasn't obvious to most, Qrow could tell that underneath there was a much more interesting woman just waiting to be annoyed. Not only that, but her white shell was so easy to break. Even when she tried so hard to remain stoic, the right snide jabs at the right time cracked right through, revealing her rage filled core. No one else seemed to be able to break her veneer so easily. Maybe Qrow just had that effect on her.

"Unless you're here to pay the fines for destroying Atlesian military property, I don't want to hear it." Winter said, cooly, not even making eye contact with the Huntsman nearing her.

"Oh, come on." Qrow sat down next to the Ice Queen, rolling his drink in his hand. "You're still sore about that? It was months ago…"

"Yes." Winter turned her glare towards him, her gloved hand forming a fist on the bar. "You still haven't paid for the damages."

Qrow slammed the lien on the table, playfully, not even giving her a chance to scold him for not sending it through the proper channels. "There. Now that we've got that over with, why can't we just sit, drink, and talk about something other than work?" He tried his best at a genial smile, but it still came off mischievous.

"All you do is drink and talk about things other than work." Winter scowled at the Huntsman, disgust starting to drip from her voice.

Qrow shrugged his shoulders, bringing his glass to his lips and taking a long drink, feeling her eyes on him. It was an odd sensation, as Winter's glares were usually cold and bitter, but this time her eyes seemed dull, her anger not yet coming to the surface.

We'll just have to fix that.

"Ah..." Qrow made a satisfied noise, finishing off his whiskey. "Don't you ever get tired of work?" He rose a brow at the former heiress, motioning for the bartender to give him a refill. "Always so prim and proper. Protocol this, rules that…" His crimson eyes were locked onto hers, just waiting for the right time to puncture the egg. "Wouldn't you like to just have a normal conversation with a handsome, charming stranger in a hotel lobby bar?" He asked, motioning his now refilled glass towards her.

The Huntress exhaled, straightening up in her seat. "I'd like to sit ALONE and drink, Branwen. Not all of us want to force our drunken misery onto the world." She frowned, realizing that she said too much, before shaking it off and bringing her glass up to her lips.

"So you do think I'm handsome."

Winter scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I think a lot of things about you, Branwen. None of them even come close to handsome." She chided lightly.

Hmm… Usually she hits a little harder than that. "So… dashing?" The former heiress said nothing, taking a delicate drink of the honey colored liquid in her glass. "Roguish? … unbelievably sexy?"

Winter coughed a bit, choking back a chuckle. Qrow frowned, not fond of being laughed at, and pushed his hair back from his eyes. "Fine then… you don't seem to want to talk about me, so let's talk about you." He said gruffly, the whiskey turning his voice even rougher than normal. After taking a moment to allow the woman to look back at him, undoubtedly waiting for whatever insult he chose to throw her way, Qrow rubbed his chin in thought. He pointed at the distinguished woman, trailing his finger up and down, as if trying to pick a subject from her many assets. His finger stopped at her coat, and he smirked to himself.

"How many tissues on average do you stuff into that bra, anyway?"

"Pig." Schnee shot back instantly, her scowl returning.

That's the Schnee I like. Qrow smirked, pausing so Winter could throw more insults his way. When she said nothing, he tapped the bar top, disappointed. He had no choice but to continue. "I'm going to guess… Six bundled up tissues per cup." He rubbed his chin, leaning into her personal space to examine them closer.

Winter pushed his shoulder roughly with a gloved hand. "Tch…" She furrowed her brow deeper, the lines along her forehead all too familiar to Qrow. "You say that like you care…" She said playfully, twirling the white curl of her bang, a small smirk coming to her face.

That's… different. Qrow thought, confused. Usually, Schnee wasn't so… soft with her responses. The way she was toying with her hair… It was oddly… girly of the supposed 'Perfect Soldier'. "When it comes to breasts, I always care." Qrow replied, tilting his glass towards her.

Winter pressed a hand to her uniform shirt, and a light, ringing laugh filled the space. "And here I was, under the impression that you had no standards…"

"Oh, I have standards…" Qrow's husky voice grew a bit unsure at Schnee's odd behavior.

Winter smiled, closing her eyes. "It seems you do. 1.) Will it not care about hitting rock bottom? and 2.) Are its standards low enough that it will fall into bed with you?" She held up two slender fingers to make the point, before letting them, and her smile fall.

Qrow's frown deepened at the jab, but he was glad that Winter stopped smiling. That was truly unsettling… "So, at least give me a 'too high' or 'too low' response." He motioned with his hand, devilish smirk returning. "I thought I had hit it right on the mark… I even accounted for the tight jacket and corset." The Huntsman said proudly, fond of his skills for spotting fake breasts.

Winter ignored him, facing forward again. "Excuse me, another bourbon, please." She gave the bartender a stern look, keeping her eyes on him, the glass, the booze; ANYTHING but Qrow.

"Please don't tell me it's too low." Qrow lamented, leaning on his elbow to stare at her pale profile.

"Would it break your old heart?" Winter mocked, resting her refilled glass in one hand.

Qrow shrugged, thinking about it a little harder than he should have. "I don't know… every pair is special in it's own way… I'm sure yours are incredibly special, too." He said brazenly, hoping for her typical response.

Winter's arms instinctively crossed over her chest, covering up the parts in question. "You're disgusting. Do you not have one, single, proper bone in your entire, miserable body?"

"Oh, it's proper all right." The retort was too easy, and he took immeasurable pleasure in watching her face contort, and a slight pink rise to her ears.

After a split second of fuming, Winter clenched her fist and breathed out, letting her face return to it's stoic mask. The mask that Qrow hated and desperately continued to attempt to crack. "Don't you have anything better to do Qrow? Can't you drink yourself to death somewhere else?"

"I can…" He offered, taking a drink, letting the liquid burn down his throat. "But I don't want to." Winter sighed, taking a drink of her bourbon and swirling the glass around, keeping her eyes on the liquid. Oh no, no… I'm far from done.

"So…" He continued, eliciting an annoyed groan from the white haired Ice Queen. "If you refuse to answer my question, I guess I'll just have to change the subject…" The Huntsman shrugged his shoulders, as if giving up. Winter looked over at him, curiously, but knew better than to expect Qrow to give up that easily. "You don't want to talk about yourself, so let's go back to talking about work, then." He smirked, straightening up. She gave him an incredulous look, wondering what he was up to, but didn't say anything. "Tell me..." Qrow sat his drink down on the bar top, looking into her ice blue eyes without fear. "when old Jimmy needs his rod polished, do you use lotion or your own spit?" He rose a brow, watching the anger ebb over her sculpted face. "Because using your own spit doesn't really seem like a 'Schnee' thing to do… Improper, and all that..." Qrow watched, waiting for the thin veneer to crack, revealing the layer underneath.

Winter's brow furrowed, and she spoke in a low voice, but he could feel the rage boiling up to the surface. "If we weren't in a public place-"

"You'd show me exactly how you do it?" Qrow smirked, continuing to prod at her, hoping she'd snap and give him the satisfaction of breaking her shell.

Winter's face twisted momentarily before she huffed, looking away. "You're a licentious old cretin." She murmured, picking up her glass and sipping at the honey-colored liquid.

That's it? Qrow thought, disappointed. No slapping? No blush? No rage? He blew air out his nose, trying to think of something to draw back her anger. "You don't jerk him off dry, do you?" He asked in a hushed tone, the devil in his eyes. "That's not a very comfortable thing to do… give the man a break…" Qrow crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back. "He may be an idiot and a worthless old piece of garbage, but a dry handy is a sad thing… he has an army to run. His number one bitch should be the last person causing him trouble."

The punch hit his jaw hard, sending him reeling. He supported himself on the counter, not wanting to let Schnee think she could get the better of him. Especially not when he was so obviously asking for it. "Mmm…" Qrow licked his bloodied lip, and chuckled. Tasting the familiar mixture of copper and booze was almost comforting. "I'm sorry, I stepped a little too far, there." He apologized, looking up at the white haired amazonian embodiment of anger. "Schnee's have far better courtesy than to give a man as powerful and commanding as General James Ironwood a dry handy for his 'iron wood'."

The ice blue eyes slitted and stared back at him with contempt. Standing she was shorter than him, but her posture made her more intimidating than she was previously, and Qrow knew that he should stop there before she actually killed him.

But where's the fun in that?

"Do you like him so much because he treats you like his bitch, or because he reminds you of your dear old dad?" Qrow jabbed, watching her twitch as the words registered to her ears. That certainly struck a chord. "Either way," he shrugged shoving his hands into his pockets. "it sounds like Ms. Schnee's kinkier than expected. How interesting…" He purred, leaning in closer to her, just begging to be hit again.

Winter's hand flew up, but she stopped inches from his face. Her face was filled with rage, yes, but her eyes lacked their usual confidence. It seemed his comments finally penetrated her anger, too. Qrow smirked up at her, expectantly, excited to see the next layer of Winter Schnee.

When she stayed frozen, as if conflicted on what to do, Qrow decided to give her a little push. "Y'know, Schnee… If you ever want someone to help you satisfy that little fetish of yours, I'd be happy to help." He rested a hand on his chest, bowing a bit. "I'm not judgemental, and up for anything to help out a fellow Huntsman." He winked at her, testing his luck. "It'd be better to go to a handsome, charming, stranger than your boss, don't you think? It's just the proper thing to do."

The slap stung his cheek hard, and again he tasted blood. Seems she got over her indecisiveness… He frowned, licking the blood from the corner of his mouth and looking up at the former heiress.

The scowl he worked so hard to get out of her wasn't on her face anymore, disappointing Qrow. She turned back to the bar, not even glancing at him, before she finished her drink in one swift gulp. A woman after my own heart… Qrow smirked, leaning on his hand.

"What's wrong, Schnee? You don't want to talk about me, yourself, or work… give me something here." He begged playfully, watching her throw a shiny, silver, plastic card onto the bar top. The bartender, who had been trying to look like he wasn't listening in or watching, took the queue and picked up Winter's card, walking away with it. "We could go back to talking about your tits." He offered, extending his arms and raising his brows. "C'mon… you never answered me. Was six too low or too high?"

Winter tilted her head up, her chin almost pointing at Qrow directly. "I don't 'stuff' my bra." She answered coolly and unamused.

Qrow paused, looking down at the mounds on her chest, constricted and covered by the Atlesian uniform. "Really?" He asked in a breathy tone, keeping his eyes focused on them. "Can you prove that?"

The woman's cheek twitched in anger and she scowled down at Qrow, his attention to her body only angering her more. "Only in your most pathetic dreams…" She leaned down, hissing at him.

Qrow smirked, glancing up at her. "You're giving me permission to dream about your tits?"

"Tch." She scowled again, crossing her arms, which only drew more attention from Qrow's eyes to her shapely breasts. "Do the world a favor and keep drinking yourself into oblivion until that shriveled, ruin of an organ you call a liver dies and takes you with it!" Winter turned on her heel, obscuring Qrow's view of her breasts, only to show him another one of her charming 'assets' as she stomped away. He watched her go until she left the lobby and the click of her boots faded.

Qrow sighed, realising he missed his opportunity to investigate that third layer of Winter Schnee by propositioning her for sex. She devolved back to anger after that… He thought, swirling his drink and bringing it up to his mouth to finish it off. Something caught his eye, and he looked down at the bar. Sitting on the table next to her empty bourbon glass was Winter Schnee's credit card. In her childish huff, she must have forgotten to pocket it.

"oh ho ho…" Qrow smirked to himself, thinking of all the trouble he could get into with that little piece of plastic. He slid his hand along the cool granite of the bar top, pulling the card back towards himself with two fingers. "Ms. Schnee… what an uncharacteristically stupid error you've made. What would daddy say about his perfect princess leaving behind the company plastic?" He said to himself, already able to see how her face would contort in anger and embarrassment at the simple mistake. Schnees held themselves to higher standards, and Winter was no exception. Papa Schnee made sure of that. Qrow thought with contempt, his stomach twisting as he imagined the rumors that everyone knew were true: Schnees would fit their mold of perfection, and if they didn't, they were beaten down until they fell into place. Qrow stopped, his forehead furrowing in anger. "What a load…" People often told him that he shouldn't speak on matters he didn't understand, but that never stopped him before. Even if he didn't think it was such a big deal to make such a simple mistake as forgetting a credit card at a relatively safe, hotel lobby bar, he knew Winter would think differently. And Qrow loved watching her break her perfect, white shell.

Qrow tapped the card on the bar, thinking. He could use the card to his heart's content, acrewing expensive liquors and women on the Schnee Dust Company account… Or, he thought, twirling the card in his deft fingers. I could return it to her… and enjoy the agony and embarrassment on her face.

A sly smirk writhed across Qrow Branwen's face as he slid the plastic card into his pocket. He decided getting on Winter's nerves would be far more entertaining than booze and call girls. Downing the last of his whiskey, Qrow debating how long he should let her stew before he brought it back to her. Angry as she was, she probably won't even notice. He thought, sliding a fold of lien under his glass and getting up from the stool. It might not be that new layer of Winter Schnee, but her anger was still amusing. Qrow smiled to himself and he started his long strides towards the elevator.