Thanks For Shooting That Guy


cardinal_icon.gif pearl_icon.gif

Scene Title Thanks For Shooting That Guy
Synopsis Looting, Vengeance, and Shooting, starring Cardinal and Pearl.
Date April 18, 2009

The Rookery

It was the Coppertown Apartment Complex, back when Staten Island could still be properly called civilization, rather than this semi-communal anarchy and patchwork of criminal empires that it is now. There were still families and people living in it, as well, until earlier this week. Then there was a fire, and until one of the few fire engines still in operation on the island reached it, there was quite a bit of damage done.

There were no deaths, but a lot of lives were destroyed. It's hard enough to simply survive, here in the Rookery, let alone after your home's been destroyed. It's a terrible tragedy—

— which is why, of course, there's a small army of looters working its way through the place as if it were the World's Greatest Flea Market.

Pearl stands, with a cigarette in hand, smoking quietly under a partially charred tree not far from the complex. A flaming sofa must have been hurled too close when the building was on fire. She's dressed in dark colors, much the same as usual. There's really not a lot different about her today, unless you count the dvd player under her arm. She yawns a little, covering her mouth briefly, then takes another hit on her cig. The cord to the machine dangles along her leg, tapping her boot covered ankle in a slight breeze.

"Upgrading the entertainment system?" The words are a stir of voice from the shadows beneath the tree, although from which shadow in particular is difficult to tell. However hollow and raspy the voice is, however, it's quite discernably one that belongs to Richard Cardinal. "Or, let me guess, preggo hawked the old one for some cheap blow?"

Pearl pauses with her cig almost to her lips, then spins and looks around, eyes searching the shadows. She scowls faintly, and reaches up to brush dark hair from her cheek as it spills across her face. "That shit is really creepy, you know? Stalker behavior." The cig is popped between her lips and she sucks briefly on it, then it bobs with her words. "She threw it out the window in a fit of rage when bambi's mom was shot. I was forced to lock up her Disney dvd collection. She's a beast."

A hand pushes out of the shadow stretching up the length of the tree, darkness sheathing his form as it emerges from the darkness to step out solid once more, slowly shifting to greyscale and then colour once more. Richard brings a hand up to adjust the set of his shades, nostrils flaring in a derisive snort of breath. "You'd think she'd just move in with her baby-daddy or somethin' by now," he notes, walking over to stand beside her, looking over to the loot-party rummaging through the partially burnt-out apartment building.

"He wants a paternity test now." Pearl shakes her head, stepping back slightly as Cardinal does the emerge from shadow thing. THAT is a little creepy too. "Which shouldn't be hard from the amount of blood he gushed when she threw a full beer bottle at his face. He was too drunk to duck. I think the parasite gives her uber aim." She hefts the dvd player toward Richard. "Here, make yourself useful." She judges the side of the box into his ribs.

The introduction of Sony hardware to his ribs garners a no-doubt satisfying grunt, and Richard wraps an arm about the machine. "The things I do for a comfortable couch," he dead-pans, shifting to settle it more properly in his grip. He regards her a moment or two, then, before asking, "You mentioned something 'bout moving out the other day?"

With a final puff on the cigarette, she finishes it, then steps in closer to the tree. She reaches out a hand, crushing the dull glow against the bark, and drops the butt on the ground next to some remains of shingle tiles. Pearl adjusts the strap of the satchel cutting across her chest, and drops her hands to her hips. "Yeah, god. If I don't get a place soon, you're gonna see how big of a stain a fatass pregnant girl leaves after a five story drop." She nods to the dvd player. "My plan is simple. If it doesn't work, I'll just throw it at the beast and make a run for it while she's busy trying to figure out if it's edible."

"You got a plan've where you're going, then?" One might almost think that he cared! Although, more likely than not, he just doesn't want to have to cultivate another spare crash-space for when he needs it. Cardinal turns to her more fully, one brow arching over the edge of his shades questioningly… and in the process doesn't notice the very large, angry looking fellow in a flannel shirt, paint-stained jeans, and a forehead that suggests his ancestors skipped a few levels of evolution heading towards him.

Pearl shakes her head in the negative. "No, not really." She glances over. "That's where you come in." She doesn't… seem to have noticed the angry cretin on an intercept course. "The couch is mine, and I need somewhere to put it. We're going to find a nice, unoccupied loft. And if we find a nice loft that's occupied, we're going to creatively enforce a move."

"We?" There's something amused in Cardinal's tone of voice, though given the shades it's always difficult to tell, with him. "I mean, if— "

Unfortunately, the shadow-thief doesn't get any further than that before he's grabbed roughly by the shoulder, whirled around, and a ham fist has slammed into his jaw. He stumbles back from the force of the blow, trips over a pile of scorched shingles, and lands on his ass. The DVD player goes tumbling to the ground with a thump. It may or may not still be salvagable.

"You thought you could get away with that shit earlier, buddy? Huh? Huh?" The clearly drunken fellow flicks open a switchblade, sneering, "You ain't catchin' me by surprise this time. I'm gonna take every fuckin' bruise out of your hide!"

"Yes, WE," Pearl replies, her tone suggesting she's about to wind into a tirade about her couch and his mooching and probably the toilet seat again. Oh, but then she's interrupted. By a drunk. She draws her fingers over her collar bone, elbow bent, then lifts her fingers from her body to indicate drunkie with a finger. "Do you know this smelly person?" She flicks a look at Cardinal. This casual question is asked after Cardinal eats a fist to the face. She seems unconcerned until, oh, until the dvd player hits the ground. Her eyes narrow slightly. "I shoved over a fifteen year old with a cast on his leg for that."

"Motherfucker," Cardinal replies to the question asked of him, given that he's holding the side of his face and scrambling backwards towards the tree. One hand grabs hold of the bark and he starts to pull himself up, growling lowly, "What, you ain't had your ass kicked enough for one day, redneck?"

"Shut up, bitch, I'll fuck you inna minute," replies Mister Flannel with a sneer cast her way, stepping forward then with knife in hand towards the thief, "As for you, you ain't gonna fool me with more'a those fancy kung-fooey tricks this time, asshole…"

Pearl points at he guy, and mouths to Cardinal, "Did he say what I think he said?" He did indeed. She totally heard him say it, and hey. Switchblade. Knife collections can always use new additions. She steps around the flannel guy, and moves quickly and quietly. He's drunk. He's focused, right? She slides her bag strap over her shoulder, and winds it around her hand twice. She steps in, gives it a few swings, and then hurls the laden satchel at the back of the guy's head. One, two steps brings her into prime kicking position. Assuming he tips forward and not too far to the side, her kick has about a 60/40 chance of torquing his balls.

"Hey," Cardinal suggests as his hand drops from his jaw, feet shifting into a more defensive stance and a smirk curling to lips that are a bit swollen at the corner from the bruise forming, "Look behind you."

The drunk sneers, lips peeling away from yellow-black teeth as he brings the knife back, "Fuck-off. I'm gonna— "

Get clobbered in the back of the head by a satchel, apparently, one that causes him to stumble forward with a pained grunt, and right into that foot coming up for him. The bad news is, she doesn't catch him in the balls, although the toe of her shoe does slam into his gut, which is the good news. The worse news is, he hasn't dropped that knife as he slashes wildly at her leg before stumbling back, knees unsteady as he tries to catch his breath, coughing painfully and croaking out, "…bitch…"

Thud, augh, knife! Pearl throws herself backward, hissing out a breath as she stumbles over a tree root, and almost lands right in a burned out husk of sofa. If the knife caught her, she doesn't say, but she does take a moment to steady herself against the tree before she says, "You're not supposed to warn him, you asshole!" She doesn't really seem that upset about it. While the man's distracted, she circles widely around him. "You should really think about extending bath time. You really smell. I mean more than your average drunken loser."

"Gonna… gonna make you scream for that…" The drunkard's threatening muttering only lasts until there's that quiet, metal click of a hammer being drawn back, as Cardinal's just produced a holdout pistol from somewhere in his belongings and aimed it at the assailant's head. It's not some crappy saturday night special, either, looks foreign, in good shape.

Mister Flannel looks at it for a moment, then stumbles back a step clutching his stomach, grimacing, "This isn't— isn't over, you know— "

"Just shoot him in the leg so we can go." Pearl's a little more cranky than usual. Maybe it's the appearance of the gun. Or maybe it's the dragon breath rolling off of the drunk. Hey, wait. He's watching the gun. Pearl shoves a hand into her satchel, pulls out a ballpoint pen, and flicks the cap off. The brunette approaches the stumbling man, moving in quickly. Yes, going toward the man with the knife! STAB. She stabs the pen into his neck. "Saw that in a movie once." She could back off a little faster. Could. Doesn't.

"Softy," Richard accuses her, almost fondly — though rather wryly — as the aim of the gun drops downwards, the attacker's eyes widening a touch as he realizes that he's about to be shot in the knee. Before he can protest, though, the woman darts in and drives the pen towards flannel-guy's neck. It's a smooth strike, plunging into the side of the neck in a blossoming of crimson as flesh and muscle give way beneath its point. There's a bellowing cry of agony from the man, and he desperately flails out with the knife in his hand in a vicious slash for her midriff, trying to say something that comes out as little more than a gurgle, red staining his lips.

There's a widening of eyes behind shades as Richard realizes that she's moving away a little too slow, arm muscles tightening to bring the gun back upwards. His finger crooks on the trigger, once, twice, and scarlet explodes over flannel in two spots. Center mass. The drunken mugger goes tumbling back onto the pavement, hand spilling open, limp.

Pearl grunts and jerks away from the knife, a hand going to her side as she does so. She winces and turns from the mugger for a moment, and hunches over slightly before she wipes her hand on her jeans, straightens, and turns back around. "We should go. The natives are restless, and I'm hungry." She stoops to pick up the knife with a sweep of her hand, then hustles over to the sidewalk. "Let's go, lazy." Suddenly in a hurry.

The corpse isn't even given a second glance, the gun vanishing into Richard's coat once more before he steps over to her with concern, one hand reaching out for her shoulder— but she's past, hustling down the street, and he's forced to jog a bit to catch up, "Whoa, hey, did he cut you? It looked like… are you all right?"

"No, I'm good. Don't worry about it." Pearl glances over and, not to be outdone with the questions, asks, "Did you just shoot a guy for me? That's so sweet. Does this mean we're going steady?" Oh, the mocking never abates, so probably she wasn't stabbed. Thanks to the dark clothing, it's impossible to tell without getting invasive and pulling her jacket aside to check. La la, speed walker!

She doesn't sound out of breath, or in pain that he can tell, so she… must be all right. Cardinal slants a look back over his shoulder to where some of the less-squeamish looters are converging on the body, then back to her with a smirk as he matches her pace along down the block. "Depends," he replies in tight tones, adrenaline still clearly pumping in his veins, "We start fucking when I wasn't paying attention?"

"You're that good in bed? Wow, remind me to bring on the champagne." Pearl straightens a little more, and tugs her jacket back into place, slowly wiping her hand down her jeans. Dark clothing shows nothing. "What did you do to that guy to piss him off so much? Nice reflexes, by the way." Snicker. Her pace slows when they reach a cross street.

"Tried to mug me in the bar bathroom," Richard replies with a rough snort of derision, "I knocked his ass out. Guess he wanted payback, stupid motherfucker…" A nudge of his shoulder to hers in companionable, a sidelong look given her, "Sure you're all right? Could've sworn…"

"Yeah, I just always wanted to try that pen thing." Pearl glances over. "I bruised the shit out of my palm." She flexes her fingers a little, then zips up her jacket. "I think he tangled up in my leather, better not have scuffed it too bad." The smile is a little tight around the eyes, but it might be too dark to see it. "I'm good. And since when do you carry a gun?"

"Since always," he replies with a shrug of one shoulder, "Not like you spend a lot've time strippin' off my clothes and going through my shit, at least not unless you're drugging me or something." A smirk's offered back to her, though there's still a hint of concern in his manner. Which is why he's hovering next to her.

Whatever. He's totally trying to look down her top. "I'd like to think you'd remember it if I stripped off your clothes," Pearl replies, with a snort. "I'm sure there's someone keeping you naked and sweaty. Men like you don't roll solo." She jerks a thumb toward the Happy Dagger, then moves onto the cross street, headed vaguely in the direction of her shared apartment. It's also probably too dark to note the blood trail of a droplet every few feet. "Would you feel better if I let you carry me home?" Snarkalicious.

Oh, he's probably doing that too. "Oh, please," a rough snort at the gesture towards the Dagger, his head turning to look that way, "I don't do whores. If I get fuckin' laid it's because she wanted—"

It'd be too dark to notice the blood trail if he were a mundane. But to Cardinal? It's bright as noon-day right now. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he hisses out, reaching out a hand to grab her shoulder, "You're bleeding all over the damn place." Well, not that bad, but he's exaggerating.

Damn it. Stupid super human abilities! "Cut it out, Mom. It's just a flesh wound." Pearl sounds irritated, but not particularly pained. Course there's a slight jaw clench after the words. She reaches out to grab a handful of his tshirt, hand grabbing at the collar above the protection of the jacket. He touched first. She turns and shoves herself into his personal space before he can ask another question. "You're touchin' me."

As that hand grabs hold of his collar, his head's pulled down closer, which pretty much brings them nose to nose. Richard's grip on her shoulder and upper arm doesn't even relax a little. "Uh huh," he replies, to both statements, scowling down at her and stating flatly, "I am damn well taking a look at that flesh wound as soon as we get in that door, Pearl. Capische?"

"You're a pain in my ass." Pearl gives him a little shove then turns, and yanks her arm, which will either break his grasp or jostle him. Or, if he's really holding on, mostly just annoy her. "It's fine." She almost sounds an eency bit embarrassed, maybe because she even got in knife range with a gun in play. "S'go."

It wasn't a no, per se, which seems to be enough to satisfy Cardinal. As she jerks away, he moves to step after her, his head shaking slowly. Still, he doesn't say anything else en route to the apartment, though he does keep close to her in case of her suddenly falling over. Or maybe he's still trying to look down her shirt.

Pearl doesn't fall over on the way to the building, or up the steps into it. She doesn't even fall over in the time it takes her to open all the locks, of which there are many. She shoves open the apartment door, and pauses on the threshold. "Uh." She pulls the door closed again, and turns to face Cardinal. "There's a naked man—" You know what? Screw it. The decision is clear on her face before she turns and shoves the door open again. She stalks into the apartment, leaving the door wide open. Yep, there's a naked dude face down on the couch, presumably sleeping. The Beast is nowhere in sight. Pearl passes the guy by, and heads down the hall for the bathroom.

Pearl doesn't fall over on the way to the building, or up the steps into it. She doesn't even fall over in the time it takes her to open all the locks, of which there are many. She shoves open the apartment door, and pauses on the threshold. "Uh." She pulls the door closed again, and turns to face Cardinal. "There's a naked man—" You know what? Screw it. The decision is clear on her face before she turns and shoves the door open again. She stalks into the apartment, leaving the door wide open. Yep, there's a naked dude face down on the couch, presumably sleeping. The Beast is nowhere in sight. Pearl passes the guy by, and heads down the hall for the bathroom.

The door's closed behind Cardinal, on the other hand, and he slides the various locks (there are three!) into place before turning sharply on his heel to stalk after Pearl. It's most definately a stalk, rather than a stroll or a saunter, and holds with it the rather terse demeanor of someone who's simultaneously very concerned and too cool to show it. The naked guy gets a brief once-over to see if he's recognized, but it's just in passing, as the shadowthief is following her right into the bathroom.

The heavy thud of a boot meeting with a door sounds as she arrives at the bathroom, and kicks the door open hard enough that it bounces off the wall and half closes again. The guy on the couch doesn't even move. Cardinal, stop dilly dallying checking out that dude's ass! Pearl drops her bag on the floor of the bathroom, and shrugs out of her jacket, bit doesn't have time to have a look before gunhappy steps in behind her. She flips the light on, closes the stopper on the sink, and turns on the water to fill it. Stalling? Pearl? Noo. "No idea who that guy is."

"Me either," admits Cardinal as he steps into the bathroom, reaching out to wrap a hand about the edge of the door and pushing it closed firmly. He even locks it, if it has a lock. Then he takes a step over to try and get a look at her shirt, since he knows that knife tagged her somewhere. "Shirt," he states, firmly, "Off."

"You just wanna see my tattoos." Pearl doesn't pull her shirt off, but she does reach down to gently peel it from the side of her torso, and raise it carefully. It's stuck on the left side by blood. Her skin is stained, too, and red oozes from a four inch gash in her side, just over her hip. It's deep enough to need stitches, but actually doesn't look too dangerous. Uh, as these things go. She scowls a little, watching blood continue to ooze very slowly. "I should have some superglue." Superglue. Sure.

As she peels the bloodied shirt upwards, Cardinal drops down to a half-crouch beside her to examine it; grimacing at the sight of the wound, he reaches under the sink, digging around a moment before pulling out an old first-aid kit. A brown bottle's pulled out, and he shakes it, stripping out some cotton balls to soak as he notes, "Stay still."

"… What the hell are you doing?" There's the faintest note of anxiety in her voice. It seems Pearl thought he was just going to look and then piss off. She leans back against the sink, her hip braced against it. "I said you could look. I never said you could touch."

"Shut the fuck up, woman," Cardinal replies tersely, reaching out to plant his hand against her other hip with a firm grip, thumb curling through a belt-loop, and then he reaches over to stroke the disinfectant-soaked cotton over the wound in quick, long strokes to clean it. Hey, he's done this before!

"OW! MOTHERFUCKER!" The shrill volume of her voice is amplified by the acoustics of the bathroom. Pearl's entire body tenses, and before she even really thinks about it, she whips a punch to Cardinal's jaw. Closed fist.

Crack! It's the second time tonight that someone's punched Cardinal in the face. Not exactly being well balanced, or expecting it at the moment, the punch lands solidly and the shadow-thief goes sprawling on his back, his head clipping the edge of the tub. No blood, fortunately. Still, he looks rather dazed, hands coming up to steady his head with a groan.

There's another, but more subdued, but no less bitchy, intonation of, "Ow." Pearl curls her body in on itself a bit, bending slightly and hunching her shoulders as she cradles her hand and tries not to flex her abdomen too much. She fails at that last part. With the cleaning, the bleeding begins anew, but isn't nearly as bad as it was. Good clotter, this one.

"Ow." Cardinal cradles the back of his head with his hand as he starts to push himself up, grimacing, "Lucky you didn't— ow— give me a concussion, you crazy— nnh, gimme a second here…" The room's spinning a little! It'll steady, just give him time.

"That shit stings," Pearl complains, as if the disinfectant weren't a necessary part of the not-getting-infected-and-dying thing. You'd think she'd be more grateful to the man who just shot someone defending them both, but nooo. Apparently not. She reaches up to sweep a hand through her hair, still scowling a little. She yanks a piece of gauze from the kit, rips it open, and presses it to her side.

"You're fuckin' welcome," Cardinal growls under his breath, finally steadying and reaching over to grasp the edge of the sink, levering himself up to his feet and shaking his head slowly from side to side. "Ungrateful little," he mutters.

"Don't be a fuckin' pussy. I didn't hit you that hard." She kinda did, but it was motivated by pain, so. "You're supposed to be a hardened criminal ex-con, even if it was for tax evasion." She grimaces slightly and reaches for some butterflies to pull the flesh closed. She gets one secured by herself before she starts bitching, "Motherfucker, son of a bitch. Let's go back so I can stab him a couple times." Her hands shake a little. Maybe she's not so good with the sight of her own blood.

The trembling's noticed; so is the virulence and amount of swearing and verbal jabbing she's doing, which is even worse than her usual amount. Clearly, she's not as 'okay' as she's claiming. "Look," he grunts, "Turn away, I'll do it. Okay? I've done this shit before, you know…"

The voracity of the bitching only increases for a moment, "I can do it, goddamn it. It's not like I'm a fuckin' invalid who needs nursing from a substandard car thief…" Pearl does straighten a little, though, and curl her hands into fists. "Don't poke it or pull on it too much." It really doesn't look so bad now, in proper light, without fists flying.

"Right, right, you're a self-sufficient hard-ass bitch that don't need anybody," he says with a roll of his eyes, before he drops back down carefully to a half-crouch beside her, reaching out for the kit once more. He actually does have a fairly light touch with the wound, securing the clips and starting the stitching up - carefully.

"I said I don't need halfassed car thieves. I didn't say nobody." Pearl can't stop the mutter before it's out of her mouth. She's pretty sore about this whole stabbing thing, and its even worse she's letting Cardinal help out. She's pretty sure it'll bite her in the ass sooner rather than later, and that's obvious in her surliness. She quiets down once he gets into the work, and doesn't jab her or otherwise seem to be aggrivating the injury. Which will be gone before the blood dries on her jeans. But it still hurts, no matter how fast it's healing.

"I'm a lot more'n a fucking 'half-assed car thief'," replies Cardinal in a faintly growled tone under his breath, irritated even though he knows she's just trying to get his goat. Before long, the slash is all stitched up; he ties it off, and drops the bloodied remnants in the garbage pail. "There. Done."

There are times when a girl could use a baseball bat to club out the guy trying to help her stop bleeding. This is one of those times. The unnecessary pain of that event could have been completely prevented, but Card's stupid superhuman tricks allowed him to spot the blood. Don't think he's not going to pay for that! Pearl, a little paler than usual, doesn't quite relax the scowl. "Half-assed and slow. Like an old man." She sucks in a careful breath through her nose, and does her best (fail!) to ignore the throbbing joyous pain now in her side. GoawayGoaway. It will, just not fast enough. "I'll give you twenty bucks if you throw that guy one my window onto the fire escape."

"Keep the twenty," Cardinal counter-offers firmly as he pushes himself up to his feet, brow furrowing down at her, "And just don't bitch about me spendin' the night to make sure you're okay. Deal?"

Pearl's eyes narrow a little, like she's thinking up some caustic retort, but she finally just says, "Yeah, ok." Anything to see an unconscious naked dude thrown through a window. Geez.

A firm, satisfied nod, and then Cardinal steps back over to unlock the door—rubbing at the back of his head as he heads out into the hallway, padding back towards the living room and the interloper to the apartment.

"Stange men on my couch is bad enough. Strange and naked men is where I draw the line," Pearl mutters, stepping across to slide closed the bathroom door as Cardinal goes to do his thing. She has some stitches to remove and replace with tape. Saves time. She turns back to the kit, and starts the hasty process. It's not as easy in practice as in theory. "Be right out." Mutter.

It's in the living room that Cardinal's doing 'his thing' as he steps along around the couch, regards the naked man for a moment, and then stalks over to the window. He pulls it open, then stalks back over, reaching out to slide both arms under the unconscious fellow and hauling him up with a grunt.

The unconscious one does little more than fart in his sleep. He doesn't completely reek of liquor. Maybe The Beast has turned into a life energy sucking fiend! No wait, the guy drools, "Five more min's mom…" and goes silent again, lolling his head a little.

There's some muffled cursing from the bathroom, meanwhile.

Of course, he may wake up a little in about five, four, three…

A light toss ends in the man crashing down onto the cold bars of the fire escape, and Cardinal's hands come up immediately to slam, and lock, the window. Then he drops the curtain. It's his own fault for falling asleep there in the first place.

There's a grunt from outside, then a long moment of silence.

It'll be about another minute before Pearl emerges from the bathroom again, this time wrapped in a robe over her jeans. It's a look. Not really a good one, but… "Excellent." She turns to wander into the kitchen. "Made any enemies lately?" Pause. "Besides the guy you shot to shit."

"Not that know who I am," admits Cardinal as he turns back to the bathroom, lips pursing in a slight frown, "You sure you're going to be all right there, Pearl?" He's worse than a mother hen!

"Yeah, Mom." Pearl replies from the kitchen, before she pulls out a beer and a bottle of water, and grabs a bag of popcorn. She crinkles into the livingroom, the bag under her arm, then drops onto the couch, juuuust a little more gently than usual. "I'm fine. Hello, the city exploded. People have been through worse shit."

"Yeah, but I'm not trying to get into their pants," Cardinal banters back easily as he steps along over to the couch, sprawling down onto the other side of it, one arm stretching over the back and his head canting to look to her, admitting grudgingly, "Well, s'long as you say you're all right, I s'pose. I can have someone heal it…?"

Pearl frowns slightly and tosses the beer to Card. "This is you trying to get into my pants?" She shoves the bottle of water between her knees and pulls open the popcorn bag. "You ever get laid?" Seems someone doubts his methods. "No THANK you. None of that shit touches me."

"You believe everything I say?" A roll of Cardinal's eyes as he catches the beer deftly, twisting off the cap and tossing it over onto the table. At the last, he slants over a look, one brow arching, "Seriously? Didn't peg you for a racist, babe."

"I don't drink after strangers, I don't let strangers fuck with my body unless I'm drunk enough not to care, they're hot enough that I don't care, or I momentarily otherwise lose self control. Didn't pet you for the judgmental type, snappy." Pearl snorts, and uncaps her water, taking a swig. "You take it when you don't need it, you just end up owing more favors."

"You haven't met Abigail." Amusement stirs in Cardinal's voice as he settles on the couch, watching her with a slow shake of his head, "She's— shit, she's one of those super-religious sorts? She'll heal anybody, pretty much, denies any payment or favours people try t'do for her."

Pearl remains quiet on that for a long moment, and shoves her hand into the bag of popcorn. Crinkle. "I'm ok." She's a little avoidy when it comes to the subject of her health, huh? "… I can't believe that guy trashed the dvd player." She pauses for a long moment, then looks over. "Imagine there's a lot of unregistered out here."

Cardinal's chin dips in a slight nod. "A lot," he admits, quietly, "I know quiet a few, in and out of the whole active-resistance business… I doubt most've Phoenix is registered, and, well." A slant of his gaze across to the window, lips pursing, "After the thirty-six, a lot of people are hesitant."

"Government interference pisses me off." Pearl kicks her legs crossed and slouches down into the couch, a hand shoved into the popcorn bag. She doesn't eat it, just sits there like that for a long moment. Crinkle. "… What were you in prison for?"

"Eh," Cardinal makes a sound in the back of his throat, kicking his shoes off and then lifting his feet up to rest on the coffee table as he explains, "A shit-load of burglary and grand theft auto charges. Nothing too serious. I skipped out've jail early when my power manifested."

Violence, stabbing and shootings bring out the personal details! "Burglary." She glances over. "So you never had any sense of personal boundaries, huh?" She tosses a couple of pieces of popcorn into her mouth. "That explains a lot." She remains sequestered on her side of the couch. "I guess that shadow thing comes in handy."

"The nuns raised me," replies the thief with a faint snort of breath, "They never had any personal boundaries when it came to -my- things, and behavior. I'm just a product of society." He closes his eyes, shifting a bit to settle back, one arm folding behind his head, "And it comes in useful now'n then."

Pearl crunches a couple bits of popcorn, then sets the bag aside with a crinkle. She glances over as there's a light scrabbling sound from outside on the fire escape. The curtain, of course, remains still, and then the sound goes quiet. "… Never knew your parents?"

Cardinal grunts slightly. "What's this, Freudian psychotherapy? No. Cops killed 'em before I was old enough to remember." That bit's a bit flat, hard. Apparently a subject he's less inclined to chatter on about.

She doesn't ask. No, that's a subject that requires more sweat or more liquor. Pearl reaches down to carefully poke at the edges of her bandage, lightly testing the area without looking at it to see how it's doing. "Huhn," She grunts softly. "Drink your beer."

It's good advice. He takes it, bringing the long-neck up to his lips and taking a long swallow of it, noting with a gesture towards her, "Why didn't you get one? Liquor kills the pain, babe."

"It's not that bad. Besides that, I don't drink when my hands shake, unless it's the hard stuff." Pearl doesn't have any hard liquor in the house. The Beast is drawn to it like a moth to flame, only without the satisfying and terminal sizzle at the end. "It's not like I took a bullet." She tips her head back to rest it on the back of the couch, and she looks over at Cardinal finally.

"I've done that one before," Cardinal mutters under his breath—and then he crooks a faint smile, meeting her gaze when she looks over to him. The beer bottle comes up, pauses beneath his lips, and he says quietly, "M'glad you're alright, Pearl."

Her eyes remain on his for a moment, and Pearl nods slightly. "Yeah." She slides a hand across her belly. "Yeah, me too." She glances up at the ceiling, studying a crack up there. "Thanks for shootin' that guy."

A noncommital sound from Cardinal, his gaze lingering on her tilted features a moment before looking back to the silent television, "Anytime, babe."

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