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Sana Zharkov was a name recognized by nearly every club owner and bouncer in the Destiny City club scene, as both an avid club bunny and highly sought dancer. What she wanted, she nearly always got, either through her connections or sheer confidence and power of will. It was no surprise that news of a VIP bash had reached her ears as it trickled down the grapevine and even less of a surprise when she showed up at the rope expectantly in what amounted to a fairly classy look by her standards. Despite the irritable glances most of the girls tossed in her direction, the bouncer at the rope greeted her warmly and let her slip through, ignoring protests in a way that only seasoned veterans of the job accomplished.

By the time she was inside the little soiree, a few dozen other women were already mingling through, begging drinks or drugs off the men flashing diamond cuff links. They'd all get a night of bliss for their efforts and wake up alone and sick the next morning. Maybe if they were lucky, the men would hire a cab to send them home. That wasn't entirely what Sana was here for - she could get the same experience from a dozen other men that hadn't made the VIP cut. No, there was only one target in mind for the night, whose prestige was as much reward as the money in his pocket.

As an attendant walked by with a tray full of champagne flutes balanced on one hand, she plucked one deftly from the bunch and raised it to her lips. Her honey toned eyes shifted through the different groups of people as she sipped, casually looking for a perfect sweep of blonde hair and shining blue eyes among the crowd. She knew his face, everyone did.

When she finally spotted him, alone and regal, she had to wonder if he was too good to make the first move on anyone or if he was just disinterested entirely. A handful of women tossed glances in his direction, bunched up together in giggling, shy groups or already on the arm of some media mogul and reconsidering their choice. Sana, for one, had not an ounce of shame or hesitance in her and as she set her stride, it was clear she was determined to test his interest thoroughly.

It took only a few seconds to weave through the thin crowd, even on needle-point heels, and when she approached him it was with a curious, if somewhat smug, look on her face.

"All of these glittering women around you, and you'd still rather stare at the city lights?"

A pleased, devilish smile spread across her lips at the compliment, glad that he was not so full of himself that he couldn't please her own vanity a little too. That would make everything a lot easier.

"Sana Kharkov, and it's a pleasure, Mr. Swagger, although we both know you don't need something so trivial as an introduction. This city is yours." One hand swept out toward the city line he'd been gazing at before, dismissively. As her darker eyes settled on his, she chanced a few steps closer than the respectful distance she had first stopped at, so that they could talk more personally instead of raising their voices over the thrumming music.

"Oh, you, of course. What else?" She laughed here, a charming, melodious peal. "I make it my business to find the best entertainment in town, I'm not in the mood to waste my time. Your celebration has been the talk of the night scene all week." The champagne glass she had been holding delicately was raised then, a semi-salute aimed in his direction. "Congratulations, by the way. A whole year, already? Though I can't say I ever doubted your success." Not with such a charming, handsome face and strong shoulders.. Her eyes drifted over the cut of his frame, not unintentionally, before she glanced back up at his bright eyes and took a sip from her glass.

Her flattery knew no bounds, verbal or otherwise.

This was easier than she had expected, but then, she was Sana Kharkov. Why shouldn't even Tag Swagger be impressed? With her confidence rising to new heights, she shifted to lean into the railing he'd rested his arm across, exaggerating her hip to waist ratio.

"Well," she began, drawing a look of contemplation to her face as one finger, very slowly, traced around the rim of her glass, "Outburst is having their five year anniversary party all weekend. That's sure to be a blast, I hear they hired fire dancers." It was actually a sour point, for her, as she'd been hoping to be hired for what was no doubt a high paying event, but her skills weren't exotic enough. "And some art students from DCU rented out an old warehouse for an interactive art exhibit Thursday night, whatever that means. It could be a blast, or just another excuse to get drunk and cover themselves in paint."

She finished her sentence with a small shrug, but the smile on her lips suggested that she meant to attend both events, potential bust or not. The glass was brought up again, for another long sip, drawing the liquid down to its final ounces.

"For someone so interested in the night life, I can't say that I've seen you out before. Do you always hide out in the VIP sections, Mr. Swagger?"

"A real connection, hm?"

Sana couldn't claim that she spent the majority of her partying experiences in vip sections, or that she was accustomed to a private yacht and an open bar. It wasn't to say that she never had, but not as frequently as she assumed Tag did - and she felt the familiar sting of envy, the want to be something much more, someone whom people envied.

But she smiled none-the-less, not even flinching away from the pointed eye contact as he delivered the last line. Did he really want to make a connection with someone? She doubted it, that line was too familiar, dropped by too many men that always thought they could deceive her. Unfortunately, deep, personal connections were not her cup of tea anyway- truth or not.

"I enjoy the anonymity of a busy club, where you can get lost in a sea of bodies too preoccupied to care," there was a whimsy in her tone of voice, and she drained the last bit of champagne from her glass once she'd finished speaking. Now her eyes made a point to glance back up at his as she set the empty glass on a nearby side table. "But I suppose you aren't afforded such a small pleasure anymore, are you? It must be a hard life, being constantly followed by people that just see you as a star."

There was a soft, pleased laugh at his joke - a hard life for him, indeed. She contained her envy long enough to flash a flirtatious smile in his direction, cutting him a look from beneath her thick frill of lashes.

"That is the life I thrive in, yes."

With her hands freed of her champagne glass, however temporarily, she reached up to run her fingers gently through her wavy blonde curls. They shifted back away from her face for the briefest of moments before falling again to frame it. The motion was less about her hair than it was an attempt to raise attention to the bits of skin showed off by her revealing top - the plane of her abs, the tease of flesh over her ribs.

"To be honest, there is nothing in this world that I can't get for myself." She took a few steps forward, closer to him, so that she had to stare up at his face from his position - but did nothing else. It was simply a closing of space, a dare to get more intimate. "But I enjoy the hunt, all the same."