Street Meeting

February 06, 2019:

Lena tracks down Deadshot on the street to make him an offer.

New York

The streets of New York


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Jigsaw


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

There were some things no profession could deal without, from a painter, to a singer, to a hired killer, two things were always key: resources and practice. Of course, even Deadshot practiced his marksmanship, if only for the satisfaction a weapon brought, but today things were far more mundane and the gym bag worn over his shoulder spoke to the activity the man had intended. Low-key places, boxing gyms and smaller neighborhoods tended to be the best bet. Less questions asked and generally more thugs willing to pick a fight in the ring.

Reality did always make the best practice after all.

Wearing his 'street' clothes of a leather coat and jeans rather than the suit that would make him stick out even further, the man made his way through the Brooklyn streets towards the place he'd picked out. After the streets of Gotham? Floyd Lawton would probably walk the worst parts of New York with the same confidence his stride carries today.

By skill, or her letting him know as much, his 'shadow' was walking in a calm pace behind him. The tension wasn't there, nor was the nerve wracking annoyance of someone getting curious. It was hard to tell how long she'd been there, or if she'd only just now find scent of his trail. With a jog, the girl catches up to him and steadies herself into the rhythm of walking side-by-side.

"Evening." She greets casually. "You're a fun man to track down, y'know that?"

He'd probably clocked her following him, or at least he was keeping his 'cool' enough not to react when she finally made her approach. Perhaps he simply believed that the cold-gun she'd carried was a slower draw than his own weapons in his hands or that she'd have chosen a less direct way to take him on.

"Apparently not impossible though," he answers, turning his gaze to her but not slowing his walk in the slightest once she catches up. "Who is it you bribed to find me? Either I'm not paying someone enough or my luck is getting worse with safehouses." A pause, his gaze flicks up and down over her before he speaks again. "What can I do for you snowflake?"

"I have connections. This under belly doesn't belong to just you, hawkeye." She muses, her dark lips quirking upward and pressing a dimple into her cheek. He looked ready for activity, and she was in jeans, heavily belted and thick soled boots, and a comfortable, puffy, winter coat.

"Really? I just wanted to talk. Met up with Russo again after the whole dog problem. I'm not a fan of what happened, and who it happened, too." She explains, glancing his way. "Wanted to see if you wanted to meet with us sometime. Maybe we can work something out on how to handle this."

"You two do keep showing up," Floyd speaks, a little breath of amusement given in a flare of his nostrils. "But this was the first time you've actually followed me." The nickname might itself have brought amusement, if he didn't actively consider a certain vigilante of that name to be a one-trick hack by comparison. Finally, he pauses in his walking, turning to face her directly and meeting her gaze. "I'm going to guess you're smart enough not to be looking for an apology for getting caught in the middle. If you were looking for revenge than Russo would probably be here with his guys or trying to get a rifle on me, so…"

A pause, he waits for her to interject or correct him for a bare moment before continuing. "If your connections are good enough to find me, they're good enough to try and hire me. So why the walk up? Personal touch?"

"Not your fault some ass decided to gun for you. You've done nothing to me, so I have no beef with you." She admits openly, willingly even. Gazing upward, finding his face with her frost-hued orbs, her smile returns and she sinks a bit into the fur-lining of her hood. "If Russo wanted revenge, I wouldn't be here talking about working together to stop a common problem." She reasons.

Then, the question. Without pause, she answers. "You're a good dad. Girl like me would have killed for that. You deserve the personal touch."

He'd ask if she'd done her homework, but it was probably a fair guess when she'd seen the stuffed toy. Hell, she'd probably checked the thing for contraband when she'd 'fixed' it and finding it empty pretty much limited things to sentimental reasons. A quiet 'hmm' is about all the acknowledgement he gives though, mentioning his daughter during business was simply never a good idea. Too easily threatened or leveraged, a straight shortcut to violence.

"So you want to talk?" he repeats, a slight frown crossing his face as consideration and consequence cross his mind before he speaks again. "Fine. If you're as good as you claim, you'll be able to get my number. You call me when you're ready and we'll work out a time and place. I suppose you know that I won't take it very well if this is a setup, so we'll keep things polite."

"You don't have to threaten me." Lena mutters, giving a slight puffing of her cheeks and pursing of her lips. It was childish, but felt horribly natural for her to do. "Yeah, fine. I'll get in touch with Russo and work my magic." Stepping back, she offers him a two fingered salute from her brow before pivoting to head back the way she came.

"Professional courtesy," he simply answers to talk of threats, but her agreement is met with a nod before she turns away. Of course he'll wait and watch, change his path till he's sure she hasn't doubled back and skip his destination in favor of taking one of the paths back to his safehouse. Professional paranoia perhaps? It didn't matter. He'd do his homework, read up on Lena and Russo both…

Then he'd wait for the call…

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License