( it's a little under a two hour drive out of the heart of manhattan, and it seems the gloom of the city is intent to follow, looming above as if to chide her, tell her by means of a grumbling tongue that she was getting herself in too deep β and it's likely she was. she'd been here before, taken down the king pin of hell's kitchen by an elicit word of mouth, a habit of digging her nose where it didn't belong all for the sake of restoring a bit of justice through the streets. no one man should be granted such exorbitant power, and she hadn't rested until it'd been stripped. karen wasn't one to heel to another's doubts of her capabilities β she knew herself well enough, and she was no dog on a leash. she was snapping jowls, a heel pressed to the throat of those that offered the challenge of underestimating her.
her target: an expose with bruce wayne. seems when one kingpin is put out of business, all too ready is another to take it's place, only this time it's far less narrowed than a single man. a group of mobsters known as the gnuccis settling rapidly in, polluting the system. matt had given her some sort of lecture when he'd spotted the newspaper clippings spilling out of one of her folders. she's told to stay back, that it wasn't her fight β but oh, how quickly it had become just that. and if she's in over her head, she certainly doesn't approach it as such.
the blue heron was renowned for it's courses and even more so, a frequented favorite of wayne. he's not a man she's ever crossed paths with, but it isn't difficult to recognize him β just as she's given a glimmering crystal glass, heavy in it's bottom and lined with a hint of whiskey β tucked off in the more private recesses of a booth, dining alone, suit black and crisp. there's a worn journal tucked into the purse over her shoulder, and she's downing that amber liquid in a single tip of her crown, before heels tut decisively his way.
it isn't missed how that harrowed, saddened gaze of his runs a study along her figure. she'd dressed for the occasion β a solitary man orphaned by crime, and her responsive smile is tight-lipped, but there's a kindness that exudes with her presence, a suggestion that she wasn't there to narrow into his space, but merely join alongside it. he finds his tongue easily, all coquettish and conversational wrapped up in the sight of a well-worn smirk fit right into it's usual place. though she may not admit it, there's a layer of charm there, however practiced.
she's tucking hair behind her ear, and she's not shy to accept an invitation she'd clearly sought β she wasn't here to tiptoe about things, but she still held held a respect for the idea of privacy. a beat, and she's slipping into the booth across him, situating her bag beside her thigh. )
Maybe a drink to start things off. I'm Karenβ ( a hand is held out between them, blue eyes glittering in the dim of the room. ) Karen Page.
no subject
her target: an expose with bruce wayne. seems when one kingpin is put out of business, all too ready is another to take it's place, only this time it's far less narrowed than a single man. a group of mobsters known as the gnuccis settling rapidly in, polluting the system. matt had given her some sort of lecture when he'd spotted the newspaper clippings spilling out of one of her folders. she's told to stay back, that it wasn't her fight β but oh, how quickly it had become just that. and if she's in over her head, she certainly doesn't approach it as such.
the blue heron was renowned for it's courses and even more so, a frequented favorite of wayne. he's not a man she's ever crossed paths with, but it isn't difficult to recognize him β just as she's given a glimmering crystal glass, heavy in it's bottom and lined with a hint of whiskey β tucked off in the more private recesses of a booth, dining alone, suit black and crisp. there's a worn journal tucked into the purse over her shoulder, and she's downing that amber liquid in a single tip of her crown, before heels tut decisively his way.
it isn't missed how that harrowed, saddened gaze of his runs a study along her figure. she'd dressed for the occasion β a solitary man orphaned by crime, and her responsive smile is tight-lipped, but there's a kindness that exudes with her presence, a suggestion that she wasn't there to narrow into his space, but merely join alongside it. he finds his tongue easily, all coquettish and conversational wrapped up in the sight of a well-worn smirk fit right into it's usual place. though she may not admit it, there's a layer of charm there, however practiced.
she's tucking hair behind her ear, and she's not shy to accept an invitation she'd clearly sought β she wasn't here to tiptoe about things, but she still held held a respect for the idea of privacy. a beat, and she's slipping into the booth across him, situating her bag beside her thigh. )
Maybe a drink to start things off. I'm Karenβ ( a hand is held out between them, blue eyes glittering in the dim of the room. ) Karen Page.