Participants:
| Scene Title | Live A Little |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | She was bringing him an update on a couple things, asking about information. It turned into … a fun time for all. |
| Date | March 19, 2009 |
Upper East Side — The Orchid Lounge (then random rooftop)
It's an uptown sort of place, so Cardinal's usual ensemble isn't going to cut it. The lack of security cameras in dressing rooms have always been a boon to his wardrobe, however, so the casual suit he's wearing is brand new, black and glossy over a faux-silk shirt. The jacket's worn open, the shirt has a few buttons undone to reveal more than a little chest, because, really, if you're wearing a suit that screams money like that, nobody's particularly going to object. He's wearing shades, of course, but today they're Oakleys.
It's at one of the tables that he's settled in to wait for a certain member of the law enforcement community, seated upon one of the padded leather benches neatly. A glass of water's in hand with a lemon slice stuck against the side, and he's sipping from it idly as he waits, gaze roaming the room. Looking for exits, and targets. Hey, habit.
(Suit reference: http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2008/11/19/article-1087623-028629D5000005DC-59_468x471.jpg)
Given where he asked her to meet him, it's good that Elisabeth was already dressed for the occasion, something she hasn't done …. in a while. She's wearing a slim-cut brown suede skirt that falls to mid-calf slit up the side for ease of movement and high-heeled boots with a sweater-blouse over it. It's perfectly acceptable wear for either business (like dodging reporters cuz they're a pain in the ass right now and giving depositions) or pleasure, though, so it doesn't draw much attention at work except that it's a SKIRT. She used to wear them far more often. The nice thing about it is that she can also still carry her firearm — she makes a point of wearing tops that look good while at the same time offering waistband looseness for the innerpants holster.
As she stops at the hostess stand, she spots him. With a smile, she waves off the hostess and heads toward the table. "Not quite the kind of place I thought you'd frequent," she comments mildly as she slides onto the bench across from him.
Cardinal's gaze falls upon her as she steps through the door of the lounge, and a smile curves itself a bit roguish up at one corner of his mouth. A lift of his chin is offered in greeting when she glances in his direction, just to make certain she spots him. The walk to his table is plenty of time for him to look her over, outside of uniform or some sort of paramilitary outfit. She's wearing a skirt, after all!
"They say that crime doesn't pay," he observes with a hint of amusement in his tone, leaning forward to add conspiratorially, "They're wrong, though."
There's a sardonic quirk of her lips and Elisabeth murmurs softly to him, "Might be best not to flaunt that to the woman who's both still getting accolades for running you in and taking shit for the fact that you somehow escaped." She's amused, though.
"I could stick you with the bill, if you prefer," Cardinal observes in amusement before leaning back a little, bringing his glass up in a vague gesture-toast. The smile fades, more serious as he asks, "So… how're you doing, anyway, Liz? Holdin' up all right?"
Elisabeth looks up as the waitress comes by. An order for a blue raspberry martini later, she looks toward him with a vaguely more serious expression. "I'm … holding up. I'm planning on going to the memorial," she replies with a disgusted twist of her lips. "Unless the fuckin' reporters make me change my mind. Those people are going through enough hell with reporters swarming them, they don't need the ones jumping on me added to the mix."
"Pear and ginger martini," is Cardinal's order, along with a slight smile for the waitress, before his attention returns to Elisabeth; his head tipping in a slight nod. "Yeah. Well, maybe they'll find the 'nefarious Evolved' responsible for it all and bring them to justice soon," he mutters darkly against the edge of his glass, taking a slow sip thereof, "Nice that they found the 'missing' kids and they'd just run away on their own. Bet they got Parkman to do that job on them…"
There's a pause, and Elisabeth glances around. She brings a field up around the two of them that doesn't extend beyond by very much, and rests her elbows on the table. The removal of ambient sounds (and the knowledge that no one's eavesdropping) makes her, at least, feel better. "Honestly, I have no clue what to think about any of that. I saw the press conference, and since it's my case, I got the call when they located the kids but I wasn't in on that part. I'm told that basically, they went to register and by the time they were released, the deadline for letting the lead kid know what was going on had passed. I've been told they basically hid because they were scared they'd get blamed. But whether that's the truth…. hell, I don't know," she says quietly.
A slight lean forward brings one of Cardinal's arms onto the table's edge, weight shifting to lean on it; one hand lifting to pull down his shades just a little, fixing her with a steady, serious look. Darker shadows under blood-shot eyes. He hasn't been sleeping well. "You know," he says, just as quietly, "You just wish you didn't."
She meets his eyes and admits softly, "I don't want to know. I have enough nightmares right now, Richard. I don't close my eyes without seeing those kids laid out in that living room, holding each other. And when I do finally drift off, all I see right now are dead bodies. I don't want to know. I want to pretend that these stupid little bastards were all messed up in the head instead of…. afraid of the same things I'm afraid of. At *12* years old, they're savvy enough to be afraid like that. I don't want to know that." Elisabeth averts her eyes, rubbing her forehead.
"There's that line again, Liz," Cardinal observes quietly, pushing his shades back up upon the bridge of his nose as he leans back, looking up to the waitress bringing over the drinks—a polite smile offered as he reaches out to claim his own, "Sneakin' up on you. It's all fucked up, though. All just… just fucked up." A subtle break in his voice, covered up as he brings the martini up to his lips.
Forcing a smile for the waitress, Elisabeth doesn't drop the bubble — the waitress probably doesn't even notice it much, she's in and out so fast. Picking up the bright blue drink, Liz sets it in front of her and doesn't drink it. "No, that's not the line. The line is behind me when I do things like this," she tells him quietly. "When I come and have drinks with you, knowing what I ought to do is turn you over to Homeland and let them throw you in mutant Gitmo. Because if I'm true to my oath as a cop, that's what I'm supposed to do. And instead?" She looks up at him and smiles slightly. "Instead, I'm going to turn a blind eye and pretend I haven't a clue that you're a wanted man, because so far as I can tell? You steal shit. You haven't killed anyone who hasn't deserved it that I know of, and I don't think stealing shit deserves a life sentence with no possibility of parole."
A slow sip of the martini, and the broad-edged glass is lowered a little, hovering in Cardinal's hand as he looks down at it through the near-opaque shadow of his glasses. A glance up, then, though it's difficult to tell, as he adds with a hint of wry humor, "…also, you can't resist my roguish charm." The drink's set to one side, his head shaking, "Mutant Gitmo. Moab. What the fuck, seriously."
Elisabeth rolls her eyes. "Roguish charm? Really?" She's forced to smile a bit, though. "Mostly I just thought I'd touch base with you and see if you'd seen hide or hair of Jessica out there. And see what you know about Muldoon."
"I haven't caught sight of her," Cardinal admits with a negating shake of his head, his brow furrowing then, "Muldoon? He's British. Got a pet monkey, too, apparently. He's in charge of the Pancratium, aaaaand… that's about fuckall that I know. Nobody seems t'know much."
There's a slow nod. "Yeah…. that's pretty much what I've got so far too. Except that he owned the warehouses where all those people were being kept… and that he may have someone on staff who can control people's minds, keep them acquiescent." She puts a hand into the pocket of her skirt and comes out with a couple of folded pieces of printer paper. "Here are the sketches of the other two men Abby described. Do you have names on either of them, by chance?"
"John Logan," says Cardinal instantly, his finger tapping against the first of the pictures, "She was probably talking about him. He's got… I don't know what he does, exactly, but it sounds like drugging. Euphorics. Somehow he can block the use of abilities, too…" A shrug of one shoulder, "Not sure 'bout the details there. I don't know the other guy."
Elisabeth looks thoughtful. "John Logan." She smiles slightly. "It's possible…. but it wasn't Abby who was talking about it. It was the other guy — the stone one. He was a guard on the warehouse." She considers. "It's possible Thespuda could have been affected by Logan and not known." She nods slowly. "Thanks," she says, tucking the pictures away again. "If you see the other guy or get a name on him, if you wouldn't mind sending it my way…." She smiles at him. "Dinner'll be on me."
Cardinal purses his lips slightly, "S'pose that he could have someone else on his payroll, God knows how many Evolved he's got…" The martini's lifted up again, moved in a slight gesture towards her as he smiles, just a bit, "Deal. So, the stone guy, he have anything else interesting to say?"
Picking up her drink finally, Liz shakes her head. "Not too much. He was afraid of them, afraid for his family. Which, by the way, he managed to rescue." She does smile at that; it's the only bright part of her week. "His wife and kids are fine. And he's… turned himself over to Homeland."
"Oh? Good for him…" A snort of breath at the last, though, Cardinal's hand bringing the martini back up to his lips for a swallow, eyes closing behind the shades, "…one prison to another, then. Hope he enjoys it in Moab."
There's a long moment of silence while Elisabeth considers her drink, and then she downs the thing. "He doesn't want to hurt them again. Sad when it's the immigrants who believe in our government and the citizens who scoff, don't you think?" She looks at him. "I need to walk. Wanna go? Cuz frankly? Sitting still is just making me fucking nuts right now."
"Sure." The criminal pulls out his wallet, a few bills drawn out and set on the table to pay for the drinks - and a hefty tip, why not, it's not his money after all - before it's tucked away, and he pushes himself up to his feet. A hand offered out chivalrously to help her up, and he quirks a faint smile, "Wouldn't want t'be in your shoes right now, Harrison."
"Of course you wouldn't — can't want to be in my shoes when you want in my pants, Cardinal," Elisabeth retorts, only half kidding. "Which of the many reasons that exist for not wanting that would you be referring to at this moment?"
"All of the above, Harrison…" Cardinal jerks his head towards the door, an arm offered and a smile half-crooking to his lips, "All've the above. Hey — " A few steps taken to the exit whether she accepts his arm or not, " — what can you tell me 'bout the Linderman Group?"
Elisabeth slides her arm into his because… well, he's being ever so gentlemanly. She waits until they're outside, however, to reply in spite of the silence bubble. "Depends on why you want to know," she tells him calmly. "What's up?"
Cardinal shrugs one shoulder slightly as they hit the sidewalk, the city bustling about them in its eternal activity. "Some've their people were on Staten the other night," he says casually, "I was just wondering why that might be, is all."
"Most of what I know is speculation. Cat would actually be the better person to ask. I can tell you that rumor has it the Linderman Group has its fingers in any number of the criminal pies in this city. No one's been able to prove anything, though. It's worse than the Mafia. frankly, I know less than zero — only what I've heard fifth- or sixth-hand. You know 'yeah, somebody told me they knew someone who saw someone whose cousin was married to someone' kinda shit."
"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask her about it, actually…" Cardinal trails off, his free shoulder raising in a bit of a shrug as he admits, "Just thought I'd ask. Sorry, I'm not real good with this small-talk shit— " A sideways look to her, quirking a faint, rueful smile, " —not exactly a social kind've guy."
There's a laugh at that. "Oh, I don't know," Elisabeth replies mildly. "You're not doing too bad for a guy who never in a million years would have bet on getting that phone call." Her tone is teasing.
"You just wanted to know if I'd heard anything 'bout your friend," Cardinal observes in amusement, his head shaking a bit as they walk along the sidewalk, "I know what the score is, Harrison."
As they walk, Liz's smile is faint but present. "Well, I did want to know about Jessica… though I'm not sure I'd call her a friend." Niki's the friend, but for now… not really something she's going to clarify for him. "But in honesty? I just wanted…. out for a while."
"I can understand that." Cardinal's head tips back a bit to watch the skies, the tall glass-faced buildings reaching up around them like modern-day towers of Babel. There's a few moments of silence as they walk, before he admits, "…nice to get off the island for a little while, really."
Elisabeth glances at him. "When's the last time you actually did something without looking over your shoulder constantly?" she asks.
That question brings a chuckle from the thief, stirring past his lips. The man's head tips back to look to her beside him, the faintest of smiles lingering there as he points out, "I never do anything without looking over my shoulder constantly. Can't risk getting sloppy in my line've work. Or yours, for that matter."
Elisabeth shrugs slightly, and then smirks. "Oh, I don't know. Getting shot the other day was pretty sloppy." She looks at him with a grin. "Thank God for Abby."
Cardinal's brows twitch together in a slight furrow to that. "You got shot? Shit… the whole Case thing, I guess?" He shakes his head, looking back down the block, "Yeah… thank God for her. How's she — how's she holding up?" An awkward question.
"I didn't realize you hadn't heard. It was plastered all over the papers," Elisabeth says with a bitter smile. "All the easier to let the Triads paint a fucking target on my back, thankssomuch." She rolls her eyes, and then gets serious. "Abby's…. holding up. For now. She's going to see someone — a specialist for PTSD. Which I'm glad for, I think she really needs it. She wakes up a lot at night… sometimes screaming. She's moving into her own apartment, though, and doing what she can to take back her life." There's affection and pure admiration in her tone. "That girl's got more steel in her spine than I ever would have thought humanly possible beneath all that genteel Southern charm," she admits.
"It could've been worse," says Cardinal, his voice quiet, "Thank God for that, that it wasn't. M'glad that she's working her way back, though. She's got a lot've people that care about her — I'm sure she'll have no trouble recovering, eventually, with you all to help her back up."
"Mind if I ask you something totally uncoplike?" Elisabeth looks up at him. "Why didn't you kill that motherfucker when you had the chance?"
"When I had the chance?" Cardinal's foot-falls stop there at the corner of the street, and he tips his head to look back at her — her own eyes reflected in the opaque black of his shades, any trace of a smile fading entirely. "I can walk into his house, his office, any time I want, Harrison. I could kill him tonight, if I wanted to."
There's a slow nod. "Fair enough," Elisabeth says quietly as she studies his face. Reaching up toward the glasses, she only hesitates if he pulls away. Streetlights are the only lights out here by now. "But I think that like most people, you're not really a killer…. except in extreme circumstances. Him cutting out her tongue? I would have thought that qualified. Or were you not actually there then?"
"I wasn't there, not for that. For Deckard… yes, but not — not for Abigail." The oakleys are slid off his face without resistance, but those reddened eyes wince ever so slightly in instinct as the street-light touches them. Cardinal looks back at her for a long moment, then, and says quietly, flatly, "I haven't spared him because I'm not a killer, Liz."
"So why did you, then?" His flat tone … or the fact that she's basically asking him why he didn't commit murder … doesn't seem to faze Elisabeth much. Considering what all she's done the past couple months, maybe she's just getting that jaded.
Just a hint of a smile touches his lips at the question, considering it - and her - for a long moment before answering her in in a soft, dangerous voice. "Because late at night, Liz," he tells the policewoman, "The shadows talk to him about how he's fucked up, and how he's losing control. Because he's starting to think that they're just in his head. And because I won't be satisfied until he puts the gun in his own filthy mouth and blows his rotten brains out the back of his own head."
He turns his head to the street, then, noting as the light flicks to the 'Walk' sign. "It's green."
She never flinches from him, never breaks eye contact as he talks, never steps back. Never by any flicker of an eyelash does Elisabeth give him any indication that anything he says bothers her. In fact, as his dark, soft words fall into the air around them, her lips quirk upward at the corner into what might almost be considered a feral half-smile. "I knew there was a reason I liked you," she says in a soft murmur. "I do love it when you talk dirty to me, Richard." And then she holds his glasses up to him so that he can replace them on his eyes if he'd like. "So it is… shall we walk?" she offers softly.
A low, husky little chuckle tumbles past the criminal's lips, and he looks back to her once more. "You're a naughty girl, aren't you, Officer Harrison?" One hand lifts to take those shades, sliding them into place upon his face balanced to the bridge of his nose as a dark little smile curves his lips. "No wonder you hang out with such nefarious personages." A step off the curb, and he offers her his arm once more, smile widening, "I think we shall."
Her laughter is soft. "Let's just say that …. I've learned a side of myself in the past six months that was probably always there, and it just as an outlet now, hrm?" Liz grins faintly. "I didn't tumble into this by accident, I chose it. Don't get me wrong. I'm a good cop. But I'm also a good fighter." And then she grins. "So long as you don't put too much gore in the mix. I warn that I don't do gore well."
Elisabeth adds mildly, "And I'm definitely no 'girl' — naughty on the other hand, I do enjoy."
"Damn. I was so hoping I'd have someone to take to Friday the 13th," Cardinal replies with a little click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a light tease, before he offers her a lopsided grin, "Well, I don't have any proof of that, just yet, Liz."
As they walk, Elisabeth comments mildly, "Well… I suppose that I could prove it…. but honestly? Sex against the wall in an alley never really appealed to me. Far too…. " She pauses to choose, "… common a thing to see in this town, don't you think?"
That's unexpected enough that Cardinal exhales a bark of laughter; shoulder bumping to shoulder, his arm slides back from hers to move and loop about her waist, if she doesn't pull away from the purposeful intrusion into her personal space. "You just have no sense of adventure," he murmurs playfully, slanting her an amused look, "Spontaneity's the name of the game, after all."
Elisabeth doesn't bother to pull away from him, looping her now-free arm under his and hooking it in the loop at the back of his pants. The gun she's carrying beneath the waistband of the back of her skirt under that sweater-blouse becomes obvious when his hand brushes across it, though. "Now spontaneous would have been you taking the initiative to visit me at home without warning," she comments. "But then again… that kind of spontaneity with me might get you shot… or get you an eyeful that you don't want to see unless you have voyeuristic tendencies," she quips. She looks up at him and challenges softly, "So let's have an adventure."
"I don't know your address," notes Cardinal in the sort of casual tone that suggests he might have, had he that information to work off of. Of course, he could just follow her home, one of these meetings. It's not as if she'd know it if he had. As she challenges him, he looks back down to her, a grin touching his lips. "An adventure, mm? Most of my kind've adventures could get you into some serious trouble at work, if we got caught, you know."
A bubble of laughter rolls from her, and Liz looks at him. "Richard… just standing with you here could get me in some serious trouble at work if I get caught." High heels make it far easier to tilt her head and lean upward to brush a light buss across his cheek as she murmurs in his ear, "Live a little. It's what gets me through the day."
A chuckle of breath stirs against her cheek in return, skin lightly roughened with stubble rasping to smooth skin before Richard pulls back. There's a grin that curves broad to his lips as he looks upwards along the buildings they pass, observing amusedly, "I'm just trying to think of somewhere I can take you on short notice without having to defy the laws of physics… you and that corporeal body of yours. Lucky it fills out a uniform so well. Hm." A glance to one side, and abruptly he slips away from her, hand brushing along her waist before he heads down the nearest alley-way. Presumably not for alley sex, though, they've already crossed that one off.
Elisabeth tilts her head and laughs. "You could always just come back to my place," she says with a grin. "It doesn't have to be as complicated as you're making it." She does, however, reach behind her and verify that her gun is still exactly where it's supposed to be. Call it instinct or paranoia if you like, but…. she follows him toward the alley. "Where are you going?"
Cardinal answers that with a laugh that echoes off the alley's walls. "What's adventurous about that, Elisabeth?" A few long strides, and then he leaps up to slap his hands against the lowest rung of a ladder hanging down from a fire escape, fingers wrapping there in a firm grip. His weight pulls it downwards with a clattering racket, sliding down and locking into place. He pulls himself up a few rungs, glancing to her with a smile's twitch. "You coming?"
There's a blink, and Liz looks up at him. "Oh, lord….." she murmurs to herself. Glancing toward the street, she shakes her head. Cuz this is probably one of the more stupid things she's done since… well…. high school! But you know what? It's been a crappy week, and it's… fun. She walks toward the ladder and shakes her head at him. "Not yet… you're not that good," she comments with a cheeky grin. And then she starts climbing, thanking her lucky stars on the ladder that she wore a skirt that was suitable for WORK — cuz it has range of movement!
A laugh spills back to meet her as she starts up after him, the metal shaking and creaking beneath his feet as he steps out of her way. She's greeted at the lowest landing with a hand to help her up, and a rogue's grin beneath expensive sunglasses. "Live a little," he murmurs to her in wicked teasing, turning once she's up to start along the stairs up the building's side, past closed windows and open. The lights shine through some, voices distant and faint through the glass. Some stand open, their passing stirring the curtains in rippling waves. And some reveal the individual vingettes of daily life on the East Side - requiring a bit more stealth to slip past.
The best part about what Liz can do? Their assent is utterly silent once they get past the first landing. The fire escape doesn't creak or clatter in their vicinity, though further up the building there are some minor sounds that indicate weight on the metal, and their feet make no sound. As they gain the rooftop, Liz is actually chuckling softly. She's a bit winded, as well — though she runs several miles at a time when she runs, coming up a fire escape is a bit different. She walks toward the edge to look out over the side. "Nice view," she comments.
On the other hand, Cardinal's in fine shape; but then, climbing's a big part of his own training regime. He doesn't like to have to rely purely on his power — what if it fails, or gets suppressed by those drugs? So he keeps in practice, and in shape. As she steps to the edge, he follows along behind her, pausing with one hand resting at the small of his back to look out over the city. "Isn't it?" He turns his head from the skyline of the east side, then, towards the destruction of Midtown — two blocks away — murmuring, "It's definately something, from up here." The wind blows over them, a bit more strongly than down in the valleys of the streets.
She turns to look toward Midtown, her expression easing toward the melancholy. "My mother was there," Elisabeth says quietly. "Sheer stupid luck that my father forgot his briefcase that day." She rarely ventures anywhere that she can see the destruction from this level. Sure she's been INTO Midtown a number of times, but … the overview is different from the rooftops. She looks at him. She knows the mass suicide is weighing on him, but she doesn't know him. She doesn't presume to know what motivates him. So instead of addressing that, she asks, "Why do you do it?"
You can see the scale of it, from up here. You can only see so much, from the ground, the sheer breadth of the destruction disguised by obstructions and rubble, and the limits of angle and the human eye. "Why do I do what?" A turn of his head back to her, one brow raising a little over the edge of his shades, "Steal? Or the other shit, that I've been into lately?"
Elisabeth grins slightly. "Yes," is her reply.
A low chuckle, and Cardinal looks back over the city — the healthy side, as opposed to its blasted heart. "It was the only logical career choice after they kicked me out've the orphanage," he replies quietly, plainly, "And after a few years in Riker's, well, all prison's good for is making contacts and learning new tricks. As for the rest…" He's silent, a moment, only the whistling of the wind to fill that silence, before saying softly, "I wasn't sure, really, at first. Now I've got thirty-five reasons."
She moves then to stand in front of him, her head tilted to look up at him. She could say a lot of things, but ultimately… they wouldn't matter. Elisabeth merely nods very slowly, her understanding of his reasons clear in her expression. "Welcome to the revolution, Richard Cardinal," she says softly. Mostly she's quoting a line from … was it a movie or a song? She can't remember now, but … it seems to fit somehow. And she reaches up to lightly tug the front of his shirt, bringing his face down enough to kiss him.
As she steps in front of him, Cardinal's head drops forward to look down to her through those darkened shades, a smile twitching faintly to his lips as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. His other hand lifts, fingertips sliding up along the side of her neck as he lets himself be pulled down easily, meeting her halfway for that roof-top kiss. It's fierce, hard, and hungry. Never do anything half-way.
It's a good way to forget about things for a while. She likes this method of forgetting! It happens to work well for her. And well… this thing she's got for the bad boys is just icing on the cake. There's no teasing in her kiss, it's all hot promise as she gives as good as she gets, her free hand sliding up around the back of his nex. When she tears away from him, it's only to catch her breath for a second. And laugh quietly.
A breath is slowly drawn back in once she breaks the kiss, exhaled on a husky little chuckle afterwards. A light bump of his brow to hers, nose to hers, and he murmurs playfully, "That funny, am I, woman?" No more 'girl' one might note.
"Just thinkin' I haven't made out on a rooftop since I was… I don't know. Sixteen," Liz admits. "Forgot how much fun the possibility of getting caught is." She releases the collar of his shirt in favor of sliding it down his chest and around his waist, bringing her body against his.
As she pulls him in, Cardinal grins; one hand lifting up to pull the shades from his face, he flips them carelessly off the building's edge to tumble several stories down towards the street below. That hand slides back to her hip, holding her against him, his other brushing hair back from her face with a light touch. "Well, then," he murmurs ever so softly, eyes on hers, "Wanna see if we get caught?"
A laugh's exhaled into the night air, and then to her mouth as lips meet lips in a hungry kiss. A swing of Cardinal's arms backwards shed the jacket, the shirt pulled off in short order. Dark fabric litters the roof's surface carelessly as his own hands slide up to drag her blouse from the waistband of her skirt in return, pulling her to him at the same time.
There's laughter in the night, and cast-off clothes, and then more passionate sighs as he pulls her down to the rooftop. To tempt fate, for a little while, and live a little.
- * * *
After a while, it gets a bit chilly…. which makes Liz laugh against his shoulder. "Too bad one of us isn't a human furnace," she quips lazily. But it's March in New York, we're up high, it's breezy, and she is finally driven from the not-quite-comfort of skin-to-skin contact to look for her clothes in the dark. The one thing she wasn't careless with is her firearm, which she picks up last from the spot where she laid it when they were stripping. She glances toward him in the darkness, her smile faint but easy as she starts to pull her top back on. "Adventure enough for one night?" she teases.
As she gathers up her things, Cardinal stretches out on the rough surface of the roof-top, his feet kicked up to rest on the roof's raised edging; he's gotten dressed a little, reluctantly once she pulled away, at least he's pulled his slacks on. It's something. The man's arms folded behind his head, he watches her move about with a lazy smile, teasing, "Oh, I don't know. Goin' back to your place off the table now?"
Slipping her skirt up over her hips and smoothing the material down, Elisabeth moves to sit on the raised edge to put her knee-highs and boots back on. "Only if we can pick up take-out on the way. I'm starved."
A husky laugh to that, and Cardinal's feet drop down to land flat on the roof, pulling himself up in a quick hop. The shirt's snagged from where it ended up, jacket left behind as he pulls his arms through the sleeves, admitting, "I could use a little something myself… chinese sound good? We can swing through c-town, pick up some've the good stuff."
"Oh, good… as if this isn't living dangerously enough, you want me to go into Chinatown with you." Elisabeth grins, zipping her boots and tucking her pistol back into her waistband. "C'mon… I should be just another blonde in Chinatown for tonight anyway. It sounds good to me."
"Trust me, beautiful," Cardinal grins, reaching out to drape an arm around her shoulders and lead her towards the fire escape, "Life's never boring around me. And I think the Revolution'll survive if we take the night off."
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