The Femme Fatale never walks - she slinks. She never talks, but whispers or husks. Her beauty, combined with a sharp mind, turns normally hard-hearted villains into putty in her hands. She loves being able to manipulate people - particularly men - but can't help feeling contempt for anyone stupid enough to be manipulated. The Femme Fatale considers life a battlefield on which only the strong survive and knows her physical allure is a potent weapon in that combat. As a result, she regards other women who could compete with her in this regard, as personal enemies. However, beauty and wit are not her only weapons - she is also a competent combatant, for the times they don't suffice. She has just one chink in the armour of her self regard. Deep down, she knows the men in her life are all scumbags, and that her success will last only as long as her beauty. She yearns to find a strong but decent guy who will see through to her inner self - a yearning sometimes strong enough to make her throw caution (and common sense) to the winds.
