Curiosity Killed The...Well, You Know

January 13, 2019:

The 'new leaf' isn't working - Selina finds a companion in the Wolverine.

Upper Manhattan

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

*

This was all some joke. It had to be. The stuff shirts and white collars with their fancy drinks and food, acting as if they were more important than the rest of everyone else out there, huddled up in the snow. It all fell flat to Kyle. Promises behind crystal and boistrous talks of 'the greater good'. Bullshit. Wrapping a faux fur around her shoulders, the woman exits a towering building, her heels clicking across slips of concrete wonderfully clear of snow and frost.

Dressed in sleek gown of jet, she reaches up and rips at the gem like decorates in her hair. Muttering to herself, the clasp comes apart and down falls her ebony tresses.

*

That fall of raven locks doesn't go unnoticed. In the crowd behind her she catches the eye of some of those citizens, so comfortable in their ownership of the night. As if all of the restaurants and theaters and shops belonged to them and was their due right. A cadre of three youngish business men try to give her a mix of smiles as she moves and then she'll hear laughter trail off as she passes.
One even lifted his voice, "Hello!" He called after, but in that laughing tone as if he didn't expect her to respond.
As for Logan his nostrils flair slightly, his stance, is clothes, his manner all let him blend in with the rush of people. The haggard looking man just looked as if he fit, at home as naturally as a snowplow seems in traffic during this kind of weather. In the crowd of the upper crust and their ebb and flow, he was a small island of calm as he stands there, warming his hands at first… then easing them from their pockets to cause the knuckles to crackle faintly with a weirdly metallic tinge to the sound.

*

Catwoman doesn't answer. She doesn't look, she doesn't stop, her ire was already prickling. It was the laughing, it caused memories to flood back and in a snap, that drive to do 'better' failed. Turning, she heads toward the group, offering them all a dark lipped smile. "May I help you fine gents? I'm sorry, I apologize, I seem to be missing the joke here. Is ther something on my back, my face? My fists?" Fists? There's a heavy right hook against the one who called out to her, sending the man sprawling in the snow. With a glare, she eyes the other two and growls, all before pulling back and heading for the gate.

*

She was met with three sets of eyes, three sets of smiles. All sorts of affected happiness and politeness. "I was just telling my friends how lovely…" Just the first few words that were stating to be offered even as the one in the middle, a brunette with a too too perfect smile, followed her movements with his brown eyes and then suddenly.
/CRACK!/ It was so abrupt, so quick and intense. The winner of a fight is so often the first person to decide there was going to be one, that violence was going to be had and she had raced across that finish line straight into that right cross. It caused the man to stumble into his friend as the man she struck lost his footing and first one and then two of them hit the snow.
But it was the third that started after her, moving forward with that purposeful stride and determined look as if to say he was going to take care of this situation right now! He even started to send a few more words after her retreating back. "Hey, my friend was just paying you a compliment!"
But she's past that gate, past the old wrought iron and the man who had been standing there. Only for the guy in the brown bomber jacket to sort of step in the way enough to say, "Hey, bub. Not worth it. Lady prolly ain't in the mood ta hear it."
But that shifts the attention of guy back to Logan who says, "Hey, it's none of your busines, fella." Even as behind him the other two start to gain their feet.

*

"I can handle this, handsome." Selina explains, gloved hand up and facing Logan. Her attention returns to the man behind the gate, fingers reaching for its handle. "This is how it's going to go, alright? That wasn't a compliment, and I can read you all like a book. If you want to try me, you're very much welcomed to. It's been a rough few weeks and I'm /dying/ for a good tustle. What do you say, hmm?" Dropping back the fur, she reaches down and rips at her gown, creating a slit up either side, freeing her legs. "You wanna get nuts? Com'on, honey…lets get nuts."

*

The grim looking man tilts his head slightly to the side, catching the slim silhouette of the young woman who had just passed, then looks back towards the twenty-something in a suit. First mistake the kid's making is looking right past Logan and instead scowling at this abruptly combative gal in the dress. But something about her makes it clear to him she doesn't need any help.
Eyebrows rising with a slight 'huh' slipping from him he steps back and to the side, "Bad idea, buddy." He crosses his arms over his chest but keeps both her and the guy in his line of sight. And suddenly the upwardly mobile professional has a clear line towards her.
"Hey, just calm down." Uh oh. "You got a real problem, lady, you know that?" He says even as he advances on her, the other two guys starting to cross the street to head towards their friend. Just a handful of seconds before the other two get there.

*

"Last warning. If you want to fight with me, we'll dance, honey. Otherwise, I suggest you back off." This was not a peaceful happening anymore, maybe sometimes the best thing to do is not say anything. Free line as it was, the woman reaches out, grabbing the stiff shirt by his collar and dragging him in. Cracking her brow to his own, she sweeps in and against his arm, rolling him over her shoudler and flipping him down onto the cold ground.

Flowing with him, springing fluidly, she lands on her heels and continues tumbling, weaving through his buddies, landing kicks and strikes with a dancer's grace. It was over before it started. Her chest heaves briefly before she rolls her shoulders and flicks her hair back. Moving down the sidewalk, she leaves them where she dropped them.

*

There was a precision to it, a quick blur of motion. Perhaps it was kicked off when the one in front of her reached out as if to try and stop her and then suddenly his nose was struck by her brow and he was reeling. Then the world flipped up and over and he crunched to the ground.
His friends only had time enough to shout something like, 'Hey!' as they moved in but then she was on them and even as they were trying to figure out if they were really in a fight or not… and they were down.
One of them reached into his coat even as he groaned fron a dislocated shoulder. He drew out a cellphone and told it, "Call the police…"
Only for Logan's hand to curl around it and crunch the phone into pieces with one rough hand. "Trust me fella, that ain't a call you wanna make."
The man starts to protest until the Wolverine lightly pat-pats the man's dislocated shoulder causing him to groan more. But then he was up and moving. Walking further into the heavy wooded area of the park. Moving after the fiery mysterious woman. He takes in a deep breath, tasting the night air. Then moves off after.

*

He could easily follow after her smell, the faint brush of floral and sweet perfume that settles on her flesh. But her steps seem to stop, trail (physically) going cold as the pair moved into the park. There's a push, a pull, a shifting in his head and a sense that he was following, only to then be the one in front.

Stepping out from behind a tree, the woman with liner framing her teal gaze watches after his back. "What do you want?" She asks smoothly, only now starting to feel the chill. It would take awhile, she'd been through worse, but this dress was not her first choice to bundle up with. "I don't like being followed, handsome."

*

There in the darkened path of the park, with only a few halos of lamp light to grant illumination, she'll mainly see him for that dark silhouette there some distance ahead of her. His hands held out to the sides as if to show her he's not carrying or holding anything. Slowly he turns and faces her and as her eyes adjust she'll see the severe line of his jaw. The narrowed blue eyes. The hair pushed back and a touch wild.
"To be honest, m'not sure." He gauges her, head tilted slightly away and to the side as if trying to see her from a different angle. "Saw the ruckus." He confides, but then says, "Saw you seemed ta have a mad on even before the goons hassled ya."
He starts to lower his hands unless she gives some sign she'd prefer otherwise. Then he says, "Got the vibe this wasn't over. Instinct mebbe." Then his lips twist, "Then again mebbe m'wrong."

*

"Oh, don't worry about that. Sometimes the 'elite' need to remember they're not the better after all." She glances back the way they came, her body shifting and walking his way. "It's over unless they come back after me. Me? I just needed some air and somewhere to get a hard drink." Looking Logan over, up and down, she gives him a snap and levelling of her finger. "Keep that vibe and point a girl to a good bar? This isn't my city, so I'm not sure where I should be going just yet." A pause, "I want a bar this dress will not fit in at, too."

*

A snort is given and he rolls one shoulder, sliding it out of the sleeve of his jacket and then pulls off the other. With a casual toss he sends it flying towards her as he steps back and says, "Here, s'cold. Don't worry about it, m'used to the weather." He turns away from her then, hands on his hips. Under that jacket he's wearing a grey and black over-shirt atop a white t-shirt, the sleeves curved tight over his biceps as he considers their best bet.
"There's Sahm's bar off 42nd avenue. Doubt those guys'd ever go there."
He turns back, "That work for you?"

*

Catwoman catches the jacket, drapping it over her shoulders and holding it in place by its collar. Turning her head against it, she inhales and exhales, taking in its scent. "Sahm's? That's fine." She nods, the talk of the men she'd floored causing her to chuckles. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, either. Even if they did, they'll be begging for it. No one's that stupid. Well, I hope not anyway. After you." She motions with her head, following after once he leads.

*

The jacket is old leather, very old, carrying with it the scent of the man beside her now. He starts along, walking with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and his gaze distanced and scanning. Though he does glance towards her as he asks, "Got a name?"
The collar of that jacket smells like a curious melange of masculine sweat, something akin to long effort in the outdoors, tinged with a tang of steel and blood. From the inside there's a hint of tobacco though none in the pockets and if she likely checks the pockets oh so subtly she won't ind anything except a torn ticket to a hockey game.
"Figure would be good ta know if those guys jump me and I need to hollar fer help." It's a deadpan rumbling tone of voice, but she can probably read the hint of a smirk there.

*

Selina smirks visibly, eyeing his way and squinting her eyes playfully. "Oh, I don't know. You look like you can handle yourself. Don't worry, I'll save you if you need it." Another sniff, she picks up on everything the jacket tells her. Eventually, her arms slip into the sleeves and her fingers dig into his pockets, wearing the coat properly. "Selina." She answers. "And you? I could give you a nickname, but something more personal is better. I'm a bit tired of tall, dark, and brooding lately."

*

A fingertip touches the center of his chest as if she needed the visual cue when he says, "Logan." They reach the edge of the park and he starts across. Traffic is almost empty, just two cars in the street as they move on across and through some of the sludge. Stepping up onto the curb he looks back to her and gives a nod.
"IBut thanks, I feel safer already." He motions with a nod towards the corner, 42nd Avenue, place to turn there.
"So where'd ya learn ta handle yourself? Marines?"

*

"Gotham." She answers, crossing the street and messing up the leather of her pumps without a second thought. "What about you, Logan? You don't…smell helpless." She murmurs, giving a glance up and down the street before turning the corner and keeping in step with him, her strides full and fluid, clicking all the while.

*

That gets a reaction out of him, eyebrows rising as she mentions Manhattan's sister city across the river. "Tough burg." He'll relate, hands now deep in the pockets of his jeans. His own stride is even, powerful, moving as if he's seen it all before and that everyting he looks at is his in some sort of primal way.
A glance to the side is given though at the other comment as he heaves a small 'heh' that's not quite a laugh. "Smell helpless." Some reason that amuses him and she can read it in the curve of his smile, the slight hint of a fang there.
"Grew up in the mountains, joined the service. Got out." A look and he seems to consider something, then adds. "I'm a teacher now. Phys. Ed." If she gets a feeling she can read him, she can probably tell that's all true… mostly.

*

"Mmm," is the only reaction he gets in return. "Looks it. More's there, though, but I won't pry. I know your type likes to keep all hush-hush about those deep scars and what keeps you up at night." Winking, she rolls her shoulder and sinks a bit into the leathers, finding a comfort there. "Teacher, hmm? Local school or a boot camp?"

*

Only a few more strides when they reach another block and there on the corner is the large sign that declare loudly, 'Sahm's Bar and Grill' with a bevy of glowing neon beer signs in the windows, and a mess of people smoking and hanging out just outside of the place.
Logan gets to the door and holds it open for her as he gives a nod to one of the locals, then holds his words until they're inside in the warm, amongst all the sports-bar big screen televisions and the low murmur of the crowd noise.
"Upstate, Westchester. School for kids with… special needs." He says that and then lifts a hand to wave to one of the servers that waves them towards any one of the many empty tables. He heads towards a corner booth as is proper.

*

"Warm hearted of you. Good deed." She comments, giving a small dip of a thanks in her step once she slips in through the door. A wave off, she heads for the booth and slips out of the jacket, draping it across her lap like a leatherly blanket. "Finally, a place to drink and get some real food. This is much, much better than that tower." A roll of her eyes, she brushes back her hair and eyes Logan in better light. She's sizing him up, judging him almost, that much is apparent. "Why?" She asks at length. "Why teach?"

*

He sits down opposite her and as she asks that, sizing him up with those teal eyes, he sort of gives another 'ha' followed by a long controlled hint of a sigh. Not of exasperation, but more of… "That's a long story, darlin." Now in the light she can see him clearly, that lone lamp above them casting shadows downwards as he reaches for the bowl of peanuts and slides it into the center of the table for them to share if she's inclined. "And before I answer, I need ta get a few beers in me first." He looks at her eyes with his own baby blues and gives her a smile as if to say there's no choice in the matter. It requires X beers.
From that small distance she can get the read of him easily enough. Rough hands seen clearly as he rolls up his sleeves. Thick wrists and forearms with whipcord taut muscles and thick biceps hidden by the over-shirt. He's built, chest broad and well-developed. But what might be most remarkable is the curious dichotomy in his gaze, bright vibrant eyes that seem somehow older than the already severe features.
"Heya, Molson and some fries." He nods his thanks.

*

"Only tell me if it's a good story. Otherwise, feel free to keep it to yourself. I won't say no to the beers, though." She smiles, resting back in her seat, even if her eyes never leave his face. They skip, briefly, catching tells and returning to his gaze. Blinking away, she faces the waitress and smiles almost sweetly. "Biggest, messiest burger you have. Large fries, please, and I'll have what he's having by way of drinks. Thank you."

Another brush, she leans forward, arms cross atop the table, her back hunching comfortably.

*

A small handful of peanuts are taken up and he eats one while looking across the way at her. "Nah, terrible story." Best to lower expectations. He looks away and across the room, turning profile and considering the people in the bar. Good folk. Townies most likely. Not a hint of a tourist around. He looks back and meets her eyes and says. "Guy goes into the service. Does a few tours. Gets out. Makes some bad decisions. But meets the right folks who help him make better ones."
Another peanut is tossed into his mouth and then the beers show up with a clink-ka-clink. He claims one and takes his time with taking a nice long swig before setting the bottle aside, his hand curled around the base of it.
"Turns all the terrible stuff he knows inta tryin' ta help some kids that need it. Worse ways ta wander through life towards retirement."
He's being honest, a bit fair. But definitely seems like he's skipping bits.
"Alright, yer turn. What do you do when yer not clockin' guys in Central Park?"

*

"Oooh, that's where that smell comes from. Bad decisions." Tsking, she reaches for her drink, lifting it to her dark lips and taking back a smooth swig. Thinning her lips, they fill back out, the hue staining them spreading back out evenly. "I..guess I sometimes do what you do. I help out where I can back home. I take care of my own, as it were. Not in a school, but sometimes, the kids I know don't go to schools. Your place accepting kids? You said they have special needs, right?"

Another drink, she swallows it down, only now studying their setting. "I survive. This…new leaf nonsense doesn't seem to be working."

*

"Depends on the kids and the needs," He says somewhat honestly, even as Logan watches the play of her lips for a moment but then lifts his eyes back to hers as if he was not doing that very thing at all.
"New leaf?" That has him gauging her again, taking what little he knows of her. His nostrils flare subtly as he takes a deep breath but now is perhaps the first time he's gotten a clean hint to that taste on the air, enough to judge her and what secrets she might be holding.
"Give it time, darlin'." The corner of his mouth curls up slightly as he looks away. "Took me forever and a day, makin' a messa things. Helped to have good folks around me."

*

"The kids don't work in orphanages. They don't have any support and live on the streets. I do what I can, but there are only so many places you can go and feel safe. I'm…guessing the needs your kids have are different?" Staring, she blinks smoothly, her body shifting just so to become more comfortable. Then, she chuckles, "Oh, sweetie. I'm from Gotham. There is no such thing." Selina waves it off, turning up her bottle once more, drinking for a solid length of time. Sighing once it was down, she studies how much is left in the bottle before eyeing off in the direction of the kitchen.

*

No sign of their meal yet, but the waitress does stop by long enough to ask if either of them want another beer. Logan takes her up on it with a nod as he downs the last of his so she can take it away with her.
Once she's gone he turns back towards her, "Yeah." She can tell he's measuring whether or not to tell her, considering things… but he gives a nod. "Kids dealin' with goin' through tough changes. Mutations." He looks away for a moment as if half-expecting her to get up and head off since empathy isn't always triggered when people hear about it.
He flares one hand slightly, as if waving past the moment as he says. "So it's tough." But then he looks back to her and says, "But if one of yer kids are goin' through somethin' like that then. Yeah. We can help."
He exhales again and tosses another peanut into his mouth then sets the remaining few aside on the empty appetizer plate with a faint rattle of shells.

*

She, too, takes up the chance for another brew. "I use to think I was something different," she murmurs Logan's way. "Just…lucky, I guess. Did things that should have killed me, but I'm still here." Smirking, she chuckles at herself. "Like I had 9 lives." She doesn't leave the table, nor does she even twitch at the words or talk of mutations. "We have some kids like that, yeah. Gotham's a…weird place. I'll see if I can get them to you." At least there was something Selina Kyle cared about. "How do I go about that, Mr. Logan? Do I have to call someone? Gather some funds?" A pause, "I know a lil boy a bit off of my neck of the woods. Coughs up ash, runs hot. He's scared and I try to treat him with icecream. I know it doesn't work, but he likes it enough." She shrugs her bare shoulders.

*

Looking back his blue eyes meet her gaze again and for a time there's silence between them. But he reaches a hand into the back pocket of his jeans, shifting forwards and slightly to the side with one hand reaching partially across the table. He's able to get his wallet out, and produces a small white card that he places on the table.
And it says there, in formal black text and thick white card stock,

Xavier's School for the Gifted
James, 'Logan', Howlett.
Philosophy-Art Appreciation-Physical Education
XXX-XXX-XXXX ext XXX

It's offered to her and he says, "It's case by case, depending on the danger or risk to the student. To the people around him. Funds usually are secodary."

*

"He's a kid. He's not a danger to anyone. Others are a danger to him." Selina corrects, accepting the card and reading it over. "Philosophy and art, hmm? That's cute." Tucking the card away into the front of her dress, she rolls her shoulders so that it sits just right. "I'll talk to him, see what he thinks about all this. I'm sure he'll be happy as punch, I mean…he gets out of the street, right? With a bed and full belly?"

She pauses, falling silent once their food arrives. Smiling, faintly, she peels away her gloves and starts in on the fries.

*

A nod is given, "We focus on mainly…" He lifts a hand and pushes it through his hair, then gives a nod to the waitress as she arrives with the food. He leans forwards, pulling the plate closer to himself as he starts to push around the fries as if searching for a particular one.
Once the waitress steps away he looks back up and continues, "Makin' sure they can get a handle on their powers, try and give em the tools they need ta live their lives best they can."
He takes a bite of a fry and looks towards the window, watching the haze of the frost on the glass before he smirks sidelong back at her. "Anyways." He waves at the card, "Philosophy and Art. Sorta. Think some folks were mainly tryin' ta be funny."

*

Catwoman eyes the man's plate, seeing a strip of spud that she cannot resist. Reaching over, she claims it, cruching down and leaving him one in return. Fair trade. "I'll talk to him about it." She smiles, silencing herself with her food before reaching out and over toward the glass bottle of ketchup.

"Really though, we'll try this again. Why were you following me? You saw what I did, why have any fear that I was in trouble?"

*

Fingertips tap lightly upon the plate as she steals his fry and she'll see him /glaring/ at her with narrowed eyes as if she had dared trespass upon sacred land. He lifts up another fry and points at her with it as if daring her to try that again, then taking a bite.
"You gave the vibe of a gal with some hard times goin' down." He tells her easily enough as he looks away again at the crowd in the bar, considering the people as they enjoy the huge big screen televisions showing a variety of sports shows. Back to her he said, "Somethin' more than the guys that were givin' you a hard time. Just a feelin."
He exhales another small 'heh' then adds, "But, ta be fair, I'm sorta used ta followin' my feelins."

*

Catwoman rolls up from her seat, leaning over the table and biting at the fry pointing her way. Before or after, it doesn't matter; he dared, she accepted. Sitting back down, she rests the bottle over, setting up a small mound of ketchup before digging her fries into it.

Chuckling, she suckles salt off her fingers and gathers up her burger. "That obvious was it? Damn, I'm usually better at hiding that." Biting, sauce stains ther corners of her lips, she cleans it all alway with a paper napkin. "Nothing for you to concern yourself about, Mr. Logan. I'm…just dealing with a weakness of mine. He's a fool and I still go sniffing about. We'll never make it."

*

The bite causes him to smile wryly, eyes hooding for a brief moment as he looks at her while she sits down, digging his tongue into his cheek as if considering whether or not ta call her on what she just did. But instead he lowers his eyes, shaking his head with a smirk.
"Wasn't obvious, I sorta…" Logan seems about to say one thing, but then when she presses on and declares more about what exactly was causing problems his lips part as he says simply, 'ah.' Then when she finishes speaking. "Guy problems."
Another bite of his fries and he chews for a time, "Makes sense."

*

"He's too…good. Knows about the dark but doesn't go walking into it, if that makes sense." Silencing herself with cheeks full of food, she chews and sets the burger down, cleaning off fingers and mouth alike. "You sorta, what?" She goes back to his words, waiting for the cut off to continue and finish. A pause, "And why does it make sense? I can't be /that/ bad, can I? Look at me, having a delicious, dirty dinner with a handsome stranger. A teacher, no less. Maybe I'm moving up in the world."

*

"You got yourself a good fella, then mebbe you should be thankful he don't go into that dark with ya, darlin'." Logan pushes around his fries and finds another one, long, just a bit of a curve to it, glistening with the best mixture of salt and oil. He extends it fowards as he leans ahead too, elbow on the table and the end of the spud so tantalizingly close as he smirks into her eyes. "Then again, nobody said anythin' that maybe now and then it might not be a bit fun ta indulge in the dark. Find the right person."
"But…" He keeps right on chatting as he looks across the way at her, "Makes sense that only that sorta anger comes from affairs of the heart. I have this… way ta tell."

*

"No, I have an issue. Something that makes me weak and I don't need that." She corrects, giving him a soft nod of her head and a tap of her nose once he mentions the 'right' person. "Oh, feeding me now?" She questions, eyeing the waiting fry, even as she presses up, hands on the table and upper arms squishing her chest together.

"What's your way? I'm curious…" Because that always goes well for the Cat. Parting her lips, she waits for the sliver of fried spud.

*

Offering the fry he touches the warm greasy goodness to her lips and lets her indulge even as he can't help his smile slipping to something more wry and edged, as if she crossed but one of many lines. He scritches at the stubble along the side of his jaw as he holds her eyes with his gaze, just watching and enjoying the view until he tells her. "Well, helps for the kids to know that folks like them… can get along in the world. So some of us have gone through what they're goin' through."
He then takes up his beer and takes a swig, looking back to her after he sets it down with a faint clink. "Like myself," He says that last, watching her, considering her reaction. "I sorta have this talent where for me…" He looks down at her plate and then leans forwards, fingertip curving around one of her fries. "The way I sense the world is sorta different."

*

Catwoman claims the fry, chewing it down but leaving him half. Resting back down, she tongues at some stray salt before returning to the supping of burger and beer alike. At the reach for her spuds, she shares willingly. "I hope they look up to you, then. The kids you teach. You seem pretty comfortable with yourself, bad choices and all."

Winking, she starts to finish up burger, chasing after a stray slab of tomato and resorting to eating it with her fingers. "Oh yeah? How do you sense the world, Mr. Logan? Do you have 'special needs', too?"

*

Another snort at her wry comment, his eyes lift and almost rolling as he shakes his head. "All of my senses." He bites her fry and chews for a bit, eyes distancing for a moment as if trying to find the right words, "My sense of sight…" He considers for a moment, "My sense of touch… of smell. Sorta makes the world more vivid."
He runs a fingertip along the tabletop, just over the wood grain as he says, "Gives me an edge sometimes. Can hear when someone's heart is poundin'… can tell when their adrenalin is up… s'hard ta describe."
For a moment he looks at the window, but then he extends a hand towards her and says, "You ever play a game called two truths and a lie?" His palm is open towards her as he gives a small nod, "May I?" And unless she objects he'll take her hand in his.

*

"Really? I'm jealous…" She admits honestly, pushing her empty basket aside, but more so between them to share her fries with him. "I can feel things in a way, I have great balance, so I suppose my touch is rather good. Ears, too, but I doubt anything like you. Eyeing his hand, she rubs her fingers along her palm in consideration.

Smiling, she chuckles, "Oh, yes. But usually when I play it's all lies." Reaching over, she rests her touch into his own, studying the texture with her own somewhat smooth caress. Her dark nails catch the light as she reaches around, holding to his hand casually. She waits, a sly smile curling her lips.

*

His hand is firm, rough. It's clear he's a man who has worked a good part of his life and she can see small scars and hints of such ill use. Then she'll feel the pad of his thumb gently gliding along her wrist as he looks into her eyes, watching her. In that moment, for him, the entire world narrows. She becomes his focus entire, his breathing growing slower, steadying as he holds her hand in his warm grip.
He watches the play of thoughts upon her majestic features, those small micro tells, the feeling of her pulse in her wrist. There's the faint thump of her heart, and when he takes in his breath it carries with him those tell-tale whispers of scents that reveal what they can of her to him.
"Pick your truth and lies, darlin'. Let's see if I can still do this."

*

"Giving me your coat, feeding me, now playing a game? You're a charmer." She coos teasingly, looking down at their union, his fingers moving and brushing over rather soft skin. For a moment, her fingers wander, taking the chance to brush about over scars and hardened skin alike. Her head cants as she brushes the top of his hand, but leaving the space between his knuckles alone, she rests back down, opening her wrist to him.

Her pulse is calm, steady, relaxed, and the smell of her remains from before; cold, sweat, light perfume. Perhaps there's a bit more given her playful antics, a hint of pheramones. "Truth and lies…alright." She agrees, thinking of something to say before shifting in her seat. Clearing her throat, she begins, "I grew up on the streets of Gotham, where I've been everything from a pick-pocket to a prostitute. I was born a blonde. I would love if my current companion would take me home with him."

*

She can feel the warm touch of his hand around hers, fingertips gentle as he holds her there and leans forwards. His gaze seems to narrow, focusing fully upon her soft blue eyes, his own flitting between each of hers as if trying to figure out which had a tale to tell. His smile is there, just at the corner of his lips as he again slowly inhales, tasting those faint wisps of lingering perfume, the subtle hint of attraction, the tang of sweat and effort that clings to her smooth skin.
It's rare that he has ever seen someone with such… control. There's a precision to her words as she speaks them, so perfectly executed with the right inflection, the right emphasis. There is no giveaway there at first. She tells him of her past and she can sense no reaction to her words, no judgement. He accepts what she says and she might well tell he shares some of that darkness as well.
Then she mentions her hair colour and she might still have him, unknowing, still curious. But it's the last words she offers, the confession of desire that he can tell from the warmth of her touch, the subtle colour to her features. It answers the others as well as he then tells her.
"M'afraid you were never a blonde, darlin'."

*

Catwoman giggles. "How dare you." She jokes, smiling brightly and nodding. "Well, you're right. Nice show, but I guess I did give you some easy ones, didn't I? I mean, you can smell this isn't dye, can't you?" She inquires, wiggling a sweep and curl of hair between her free hand's fingers. As of yet, she keeps her hand where it is, fingers now playing casually along his palm and underside of his wrist. She doesn't search for his pulse, however.

"Well, what now? You pulled a good trick. I can mark but that was spooky. Do I keep feeding you more lies or is there something else you can show me?" Free hand, she reaches for a fry and dips it in sauce, considering the bite for herself, she lifts her head just so and shifts, hand out toward his mouth instead.

*

"Well," His thumb traces a small circle upon her skin, "I figure we finish our dinner here," Logan leans forwards, lips parting as he accepts the fry and takes a bite, leaving half for her as he partakes. "Learn what else we can find out about each other,"
He slowly turns her hand over and very gently glides his fingertip over the knuckles on her hand, feeling the small abrasions and the faint redness from where she struck the first of those Upwardly Mobile types. His lip twists and he meets her eyes again, "Then we head upstate and see if we can greet the sun together in the morning."
His eyes dance with amusement as he adds, "It's a bit of a drive though, I should warn ya."

*

Selina finishes off the half left for herself, munching on the rest of her fries, offering him some in a lazy manner. Her hand doesn't move. Fingers down, knuckles raw, she glances across to his finger tips and then up toward his face. "That…sounds wonderful. What do you want to learn about me? See if you can tell what's real or not, since you're so good at it."

Shifting her touch, her fingers work over top of his hand now, resting between his knuckles and pressing down, gently. "You ever felt a cat's paw before?" She asks, the pressure light before she guides her touch along the top of his hands, feeling the lack of space between the bones there. "That's what you feel like…is that part of your 'special'?"

*

"M'not in a rush," Logan says as he lets her light touch take his hand, to turn it as she wishes, letting her feel the roughness of flesh, that subtle scar tissue. But she is perceptive, feeling that curious mix of old scar tissue with new flesh in between. Right there, just between each knuckle perhaps a little more than an inch tall.
"Figure we'll get to know each other decently soon enough." His smile is warm, but not just from drink. "Though I admit, I am kinda curious." A topic she's likely familiar with.
He opens his hands further when she asks that last, however. Letting her touch or explore as she wishes. "One part." He answers, "Denser bone structure, some aberrations. Makes me a smidge more durable than most."

*

"I just feel something right there." She murmurs, brushing down between his knuckles and back again. Taking his reasons, his anwsers, her gaze rolls up toward his face. She accepts the answer, nodding smoothly, her fingers lingering. "More than just senses, hmm? What else are you? Can you do, I mean?"

A smile, she eyes their food idly, most of it gone or forgotten by now, along with their drinks. "How about we get out of here and you can ask me what you're curious about, hmm? As…homey as this place feels, it also feels like work. I'd like to leave if that's alright with you." A pause, "Hey, what do you want me to call you? Logan? James?"

*

Easing back and away his hand slips from hers as he reaches for his wallet. As the waitress passes he manages to catch her eye and waves her towards them. She nods and holds up one finger, likely will be around shortly.
But then the grim looking man before her turns back to her and says, "Logan works." For a moment it seems like he might say something else. Then seems to say something else instead, "More used to it." A few bills are pulled from his wallet and set on the table. They still have a bit before they can run off, but not too much as the server seems to be running the bill at a register across the way.
"But here, afore we go. How about you tell me first." His eyes dance as he asks her, "What else can /you/ do?"

*

Catwoman chuckles, sitting back and pulling up his jacket. Slipping her arms through it again, she hugs it close and closed, nestling against its collar. "I think…I'll call you James." She decides after the fact. Watching after the waitress, she blinks smoothly and reaches out, claiming up her brew and finishing it off completely. "Me?" She asks, setting the bottle down. "I suppose that depends on what you're talking about specifically. What I can do…where?" Winking, she corrects her posture. "I'm not as shiney as you are. I'm a bit lucky at times, but otherwise I'm just a normal gal who grew up in a rough town." Shrugging, she considers for a moment before saying, "I'm good at surviving."

*

"Considerin' how many folks don't manage that…" Logan tilts his own bottle back, just a little bit left, then sets it aside. "There're worse things ta be good at."
Of course that's the moment when the server shows back up with the bill that he places a few twenties on it, enough to cover and give a decent tip. Then he's sliding out of the booth, pushing himself to his feet and pausing long enough to offer her his hand when she needs to rise from the booth herself. More out of habit than anything else.
"See, Selina…" Logan steps back and then turns to walk towards the door. It's only once they're outside, back in what's now become a faint snowfall, drifting down from the clouds slowly, that he steps to the side and says to her, "Even if I didn't have these senses, and didn't see you knock three guts on their asses… I'd still be able ta tell."
A half-smile as he looks up to he clouds, letting his eyes slip from her for just a moment as he says. "You're trouble."

*

Accepting his hand, she gives her thanks to the server and heads bac outside. Feeling that flutter resting and glimmering in her hair, she takes up her pace by his side, heels now muffled and muted thanks to the fresh powder below.

"Of course I am." She agrees without pause, slipping up and beside him, wrapping one arm around the low of his back. "Why else did you follow after me?"

*

"C'mon." He says as he meets her gaze, "Though I got some bad news." His hand settles on the small of her back as well, and then they start to walk together, his boots causing some of the slush to slosh aside. "I sorta… rode my motorcycle inta the city."
A few more steps then he tilts his head to the side, "So gonna be kinda cold." As he says that he's smirking a touch, as if to see if that'll be enough for her to think about the whole trip to Upstate.

*

"You're not making this easy." She smirks, pursing her lips gently and eyeing his way. Glancing around, she marks a few buildings and slips away from his touch. "Give me just a second, honey. I'll be right back." Pausing, she offers him his jacket back, exposing her pale arms to the white of snowly light. Winking, she slips off and into an alley, her scent trailing into the shadows.

It takes her a few minutes, five at most, and before long she steps out of the darkness and back by his side, brushing down a fresh jacket and straightening a pair of pants. Heels gone, boots in place, she shivers briefly and reaches down to yank a price tag off the cuff of her new coat. "Ready."

*

She had left him looking curiously of after her, head tilted to the side as the snow continued to fall around him slowly. But when she speaks he can't hide the half-smirk. A nod is given and then he steps away and off to the side, leaning against the wall with an awning overhead. For the time she was gone he was just a dark silhouette in the shadows as other people enjoying the night continue to walk up and down the street.
Two couples wander out of Sahm's laughing and his attention shifts towards them, but when he looks back there she is once again. Some small amount of surprise might be there in his eyes that she was able to move so quietly, but he doesn't comment on it.
Instead he steps forwards and meets her, an eyebrow lifting. "Looking good." He extends a hand to take hers and holding it out a touch as if taking a look at what she's wearing now with a small turn.
"One last thing though," He says and meets her eyes again, "Almost forgot this." He says as he then gently draws her to him and as the snow settles and melts on their shoulders, as the whispering roil of a car driving by on the wet street, she'll feel the warmth of the man himself as he brings her into his arms.
It's just an instant of a smile, his eyes searching hers. And that is the moment he kisses her.

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