❪ pale fingers tremble something wicked, makes it look like the last thing she truly needs to indulge is the glass of whiskey cradled in her hands, having been topped off too many times to count. it's why she prefers josie's, why she ducks in at ungodly hours of the night after letting golden tresses down from their pin; after staring numbly off into rain-slated streets when her dad ends that call one more time; after that psychopath laying reign to hells kitchen once more conned himself out of prison, like a gift lacing itself up with an even grander, velvety bow.
she knows she's practically exuding cynicism, white blouse folded up her forearms and golden, petite necklace hanging between her collars, but the last thing she's looking for is company, and josie knows by now not to say a word, when to pour, and when to cut her off so she can still make it back to the apartment that sits idly in waiting for her.
she's already taunted her with a look as if another inch or two of the amber liquid would really do her in, and maybe it's the secretarial profile she eases into too well that rewards her another clink of a refill, responding with a gentle rap on the counter in thanks, and white teeth claiming purchase to lower lip. ❫
[ He's been watching her for days now, if he's being honest, and being careful about it. His memory is pretty shot at the best of times, but he remembers Karen was close to Frank. He's not sure how it started, or how close was their kind of close was.
He just knows that she's the best chance he has of finding Frank and making him pay for what he did. This asshole, Fisk, is threatening all of that, and he's not taking too kindly to it. Which is why he's ignoring the goons following Karen, like he hasn't noticed all five of their useless asses, and sliding up on the stool next to her, hood still drawn up over his head. ]
You know, for someone who stirs up as much shit as you do, you're really bad at noticing when you have a tail, Karen. [ He drawls it in her direction, smile making the scars tug strangely at his cheeks, and orders a whiskey from Josie. ]
Don't panic, and don't look around. Just look at me. Just two people, sharing a drink in a bar.
❪ for the ever-prying niche's that she has, she's yet to master the hints and subtleties that are left like cookie crumbs when she attracts attention. it's part of the job, part of posting those stories in bold, bleeding ink to get someone's truth out there, to expose the tarnished corners of new york and who nourishes them. truthfully, she knows she's been reckless. letting herself into fisk's loft with the sole intention of seeping herself into his nerves, letting her words poison him until she could catch something, anything on camera that would get him back behind bars where he belonged.
but manipulation was the city's voice. there was nothing fair, nothing just about him being back on the streets. money and power; and hells kitchen spins madly on.
she doesn't pay too much mind to the body that's nestled beside her until she hears the familiar syllables of her name, pink-rimmed eyes glancing over and ducking slightly to make out the side profile of a man she's seen only a few times before. russo, if she remembers correctly. brow furrows together softly, a blend of blond.
his words come to her in a daze, piece together beneath the lagging-veil of one too many whiskeys, neat. he tells her not to panic. tells her not to look around, and the thumping in her chest accelerates to a heavy, present echo. lips feel split; dry, and she's left tucking a stray tress behind her ear before calmly settling her gaze back to the golden liquid left pooled at the bottom of her glass. ❫
And what are you, just another person to add to that tail?
❪ it's not as sharp as it could be, but there's a thorn of concern underlying her tone, a curiosity too dangerous to satiate but just as much to tempt to do the opposite of what he says—to look. ❫
[ Billy's noticed. She's bull-headed to the point of sheer stupidity for all the keen eye and instinct she's got. He can see why she and Frank get on, honestly. Both proverbial bulls in china shops. Christ.
He waits until she puts it together, and tries not to scoff under his breath. He's wondering now if he shouldn't just escort himself out and let her stumble her way into their arms. That wouldn't get him to Frank, though. ]
Me? I'm just a guy enjoying a drink with a pretty lady. Concerned citizen, even.
[ Billy turns to her, smiling in amusement. He knows she's curious. ]
If you're worried, I can just leave you with your new friends.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
→ ｆｏｒ：fancysuit.
she knows she's practically exuding cynicism, white blouse folded up her forearms and golden, petite necklace hanging between her collars, but the last thing she's looking for is company, and josie knows by now not to say a word, when to pour, and when to cut her off so she can still make it back to the apartment that sits idly in waiting for her.
she's already taunted her with a look as if another inch or two of the amber liquid would really do her in, and maybe it's the secretarial profile she eases into too well that rewards her another clink of a refill, responding with a gentle rap on the counter in thanks, and white teeth claiming purchase to lower lip. ❫
Why I love you, Jos.
no subject
He just knows that she's the best chance he has of finding Frank and making him pay for what he did. This asshole, Fisk, is threatening all of that, and he's not taking too kindly to it. Which is why he's ignoring the goons following Karen, like he hasn't noticed all five of their useless asses, and sliding up on the stool next to her, hood still drawn up over his head. ]
You know, for someone who stirs up as much shit as you do, you're really bad at noticing when you have a tail, Karen. [ He drawls it in her direction, smile making the scars tug strangely at his cheeks, and orders a whiskey from Josie. ]
Don't panic, and don't look around. Just look at me. Just two people, sharing a drink in a bar.
no subject
but manipulation was the city's voice. there was nothing fair, nothing just about him being back on the streets. money and power; and hells kitchen spins madly on.
she doesn't pay too much mind to the body that's nestled beside her until she hears the familiar syllables of her name, pink-rimmed eyes glancing over and ducking slightly to make out the side profile of a man she's seen only a few times before. russo, if she remembers correctly. brow furrows together softly, a blend of blond.
his words come to her in a daze, piece together beneath the lagging-veil of one too many whiskeys, neat. he tells her not to panic. tells her not to look around, and the thumping in her chest accelerates to a heavy, present echo. lips feel split; dry, and she's left tucking a stray tress behind her ear before calmly settling her gaze back to the golden liquid left pooled at the bottom of her glass. ❫
And what are you, just another person to add to that tail?
❪ it's not as sharp as it could be, but there's a thorn of concern underlying her tone, a curiosity too dangerous to satiate but just as much to tempt to do the opposite of what he says—to look. ❫
What are you doing here?
no subject
He waits until she puts it together, and tries not to scoff under his breath. He's wondering now if he shouldn't just escort himself out and let her stumble her way into their arms. That wouldn't get him to Frank, though. ]
Me? I'm just a guy enjoying a drink with a pretty lady. Concerned citizen, even.
[ Billy turns to her, smiling in amusement. He knows she's curious. ]
If you're worried, I can just leave you with your new friends.