All looking to get their shot at the infamous Castle.
( she finishes the narrative, a comfortable habit. how disappointed those darker nooks of the city and those who inhabit them would be to learn of his return, but what a hell of a pair they'd make, taking them down both in print and with brute force. she providing the finesse while he that roughened touch. it's an idea she could easily keep warm, but in the same vein, she wants better for him. more than stalking the streets looking for signs of trouble, and if he were to try, could she really say that with her was the best place for him to be? like leaving an addict right at the glaring entry of a liquor store.
in a lot of respects, she's no better than he is at getting out, hells kitchen or no hells kitchen.
he grabs for his coat after leaving a few bills atop that faint receipt, and she can already feel the bitter draft sneaking beneath the neck of her coat, biting that strawberry flush to her cheeks. she'll have to kick the heat on a bit higher when they get back—a means of skirting a too-high bill, living in too-big knit sweaters and the pacing scuff of slippers. as if she'd let him take the subway, let him part from her so soon when there was no promise that he'd follow—he could change his mind, decide to try that righteous route again.
she slips from the booth, standing alongside him with a quiet tut of heels still laced about her ankles. ) Yeah. ( when she starts, she finds gaze with his until he falls in line beside her. )
Must be taking it too easy on them. ( a playful nudge to his side once they've stepped out into the brisk night, weak ding of the door's bell sounding overhead. she's not. just... trying not to pick fights with someone who might encourage a blind target practice through her walls. )
no subject
( she finishes the narrative, a comfortable habit. how disappointed those darker nooks of the city and those who inhabit them would be to learn of his return, but what a hell of a pair they'd make, taking them down both in print and with brute force. she providing the finesse while he that roughened touch. it's an idea she could easily keep warm, but in the same vein, she wants better for him. more than stalking the streets looking for signs of trouble, and if he were to try, could she really say that with her was the best place for him to be? like leaving an addict right at the glaring entry of a liquor store.
in a lot of respects, she's no better than he is at getting out, hells kitchen or no hells kitchen.
he grabs for his coat after leaving a few bills atop that faint receipt, and she can already feel the bitter draft sneaking beneath the neck of her coat, biting that strawberry flush to her cheeks. she'll have to kick the heat on a bit higher when they get back—a means of skirting a too-high bill, living in too-big knit sweaters and the pacing scuff of slippers. as if she'd let him take the subway, let him part from her so soon when there was no promise that he'd follow—he could change his mind, decide to try that righteous route again.
she slips from the booth, standing alongside him with a quiet tut of heels still laced about her ankles. ) Yeah. ( when she starts, she finds gaze with his until he falls in line beside her. )
Must be taking it too easy on them. ( a playful nudge to his side once they've stepped out into the brisk night, weak ding of the door's bell sounding overhead. she's not. just... trying not to pick fights with someone who might encourage a blind target practice through her walls. )