A Little Less Shooty

Brief Title:
Less Shooty

Black Cat, Night Raven

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
08/24/12 16:34

South Manhattan

Two rooftop denizens turn the lights out on some thugs

Social or Plot:


Black Cat is sitting on the ledge of a building, a blanket set out with what appears to be lunch for one. She's even got a bottle of wine. Right now, though, she's flipping through the contents of a manila folder and letting her food go cold.

Intruding on the silence of a regular afternoon rooftop picnic comes the clank clank clanking of hard soled shoes on metal fire escape. Clank'ing over the grid iron platforms, tap, tap, tapping up one flight to the next. Finally, the metal ladder is being ascended by some entity, which reveals itself to be an ivory masked figure in a fedora and well cut, all black suit. His Night Raven emblem blazing on a comfortable t-shirt under that suit as he is not cognizant of other rooftop denizens at the moment, his focus just to access the roof it would seem.

Black Cat frowns at the disturbance, drawing the bottle closer as the stalks quietly from her spot. Cradling the improvised weapon against her side, she attempts to circle away from the vulnerable location and get a good look at her visitor. She's got enemies, after all.

As she saunters off for cover, Night Raven remains unaware of the cat. Instead, he looks back down at the alley, then towards street and begins to follow the ledge in that direction. Something he means to see down there and this vantage point would be best. He pats himself down as if he is taking a personal inventory before he squats near the forward, street ledge of the rooftop to nest it would seem.

Black Cat holds her breath for a second as he nests, and finally, steps around the cover and leans against the industrial equipment that had blocked her from sight. "Who are you then?" The bottle of wine is left to dangle, caught between two fingers at the neck.

Thank goodness for ivory mask and all the trappings of what could be a costume, otherwise Night Raven's first light startle might be visible. Still, there is a pause as he gather's his senses before he turns the eye-holes to regard the owner of the voice. "Same could be said," he says, marking the bottle, her own uniform and/or mask. His voice carries an older tone, something archaic. Still, a short pause, then, "Night Raven." He watches curiously, wondering how she might take that.

Black Cat frowns, her own expression slightly more visible than her counterpart's. "Well, Night Raven, you caught me entirely unprepared for a visitor. Dreadfully sorry about that, girl gets a little nervous when a big strapping fellow joins her on a secluded rooftop. I'm sure you get that alot though." She extends her right arm, wine clearly in sight. "Care for a drink?"

Pondering, he shrugs and moves away from the ledge. "Sure, lots of nervous girls alone on secluded rooftops. Folks might be surprised how frequent it happens." Humor attempts, dry at the least, "I'll take a drink, if you don't mind not letting everyone know what charms I wield under this mask?" If his mouth was sealed to a stoic expression by the mask, it might mirror the smile underneath.

Black Cat strides forward with a walk fit for a runway model, all long graceful steps and rolling hips. "My lips are sealed. Seen a lot of men's faces under their mask," She taps the reflective lenses of her own. "Never said a word." She stops but a step away, arm still extended, peace offering hanging just in reach.

"Much obliged," says Night Raven, raising one gloved hand to tip the fedora, and then the other to reach for the offering she dangles within his reach. "Good to know some woman can keep a man's secrets for him." So long as she gives the bottle up, he'll then take the hat tipping hand to lift the mask enough for chin and lips to stick out. His face has seen better days, many of them, a century’s worth most likely. Its riddled, pock-marked, scarred and otherwise unrecognizable as a human face except that fitting a corpse at best. He's kind enough to tip the bottle and poor it into his mouth instead of putting his lips on it.

Black Cat keeps her face trained to perfect serenity, full lips twitching at the corner at his joke. She's good to her word, and more then that, she has expensive taste in wine. The contents, assuming that it isn't stolen, must have cost a pretty penny. Underneath the reflective lenses of her mask, though, her eyes do widen at the sight of the man's flesh that looks as if he is an inch from the grave. "Hey, hey, hey!" Black Cat laughs, a soft delicate exhalation as she reaches for the bottle. "Leave some for me, big guy."

His mouth twists lightly in a smile as Night Raven lifts the bottle back up towards the woman, pulling the mask back down. "I couldn't releave you of all the contents there ... just enough to whet my thirst." Then a thumb back towards the ledge he was at, "So long as we're sharing the company and occasion, you haven't seen a bunch of Chinese fellows on the prowl down there have you?" Even as he ponders that, his attention doesn't leave the woman, either her mannerisms are captivating, or its the way she's dressed.

Black Cat kisses, the only way to describe it really, the head of the bottle and her own sip is dainty in comparison. She sniffs, lowering the bottle down to her side, "I appreciate a man with thirsts, I-- hmm? Prowling Chinese?" She smoothly walks right past Night Raven and too the ledge, though a perceptive man might read the tension in those smooth muscles of her back. She's ready for him to attack her blindside. Maybe even expecting it.

"No, but I'll admit that I've been preoccupied. Are you hunting them?"

She leans forward slightly, peering down at the street.

Whether he reads the muscles or not, he certainly doesn't complain of the view. Staying back there for a moment, letting her ponder and look over the edge. After a moment, his hard-soled feet once again stir the gravel/tar of the rooftop and he's crossing towards her. "Something like that, I'm after a Weng Ho, that's his place but I'm not rushing in. I figure by now they're expecting me, word travels fast amongst his friends. I figure play it safe up here for a day or three, mark time by counting thugs. That sort of business, but seeing as its your roost at the moment, I thought I'd ask out of respect." He moves behind her up until he steps aside enough to join here there, no attack comes.

Black Cat glances to him out of the corner of her eyes, relaxing slightly at the explanation. "Triad? If so, don't do business with them. They're... touchy." She wrinkles her nose at the adjective, before shrugging. "You can have it, there's thousands of rooftops but you're not thinking of taking on a whole den of thugs by yourself are you?"

"Something like that, Dragon Tong, older than the Triad," says Night Raven, "Centuries upon Centuries old. Haven't been around these parts since 66. New activity, didn't think she'd come back to the states so soon, not after Mexico." He's throwing out a lot of information there, no worries it would seem. Then a nod, "Ya, a whole den. If there are less than a dozen, it should be no problem really. A few more, they might be expecting me. I can't afford that sort of mistake though. No signs to indicate that though." A pause, "Why, you interested in some dirty work?"

"Don't know them." Black Cat says, tapping the bottle against her thigh. She seems to be taking in all the information, pursing her lips as she stares at the hell hole. At the offer, she tilts her head in his direction, brilliantly white and straight smile flashed. "You paying? Heroics is lean work, and I don't fill out this suit by doing charity. Even for handsome strangers on dark rooftops."

An actual chuckle from Night Raven, it sounds like really dry wine. Something not heard in years maybe, only time knows. "My good looks don't win prizes, for sure. Besides if I was able to pay, I probably wouldn't have landed in this line of work in the first place." Still, stuck on that smile though, he seems to be warming up even. "Now I'm curious, what say I do jump down there, you watch them fill me with lead ... you could leave with that sort of injustice?"

"That's not injustice, that's stupidity." Black Cat says, dismissively waving at the argument. "Okay, not money. Fine. Favors though? I know you're new in town but I have a case that I could use some help with. You scratch my back, tough guy--" She leans into him, leading with her hip. "Scratch yours. Deal?"

"You're onto something Miss ...." without a name, code or otherwise, Night Raven leaves it at miss. He stands tall when her hips leans into him, looking more directly at her this close, folloing her neckline down the line of her body and hitting every curve along the way. "In all fairness, new to town is an overstatement, more like returned of late." He's glad about the stupidity comment, no need to even let on, its a given. "We might have a deal then. That was just more a test. If its just bullets down there, they won't do much but scratch me, help with my charming good looks. I'm worried it could be a trap. If I cause the ruckus, could you do me the favor of being second eyes?" That being, help him so he's not trapped by other means.

"Deal. I'll watch your back, give you a way out if things turn sour." Black Cat says, not flinching away from his gaze. She almost seems to revel in it, and nudges him with an elbow. "Don't expect me to dive in front of any bullets though, big guy. I /like/ breathing."

This close, and since he looked, he might notice a familiar device. A Marvel Knight's communication device, nearly hidden in the fringe of her dipping neckline.

Noticing the device, Night Raven doesn't comment. "This is my pleasure ....," looking down the neckline(?) .... "save the bullets for me." Finally his attention remembers the building he was observing. "Takes the guess work out of gathering information. You have some jet pack or something all the kids are using these days, or a zipline down into the back of the building through some old window good enough?"

"Sorry, no jetpack." Black Cat says. "Too bulky, makes for a terrible silhouette. I have a reputation to keep in mind. I think the better idea is the second one, unless you're actually brave enough to walk through the front door."


"You're not thinking of walking through the front door, are you?"

There is a pause, it probably was his latter idea of the back entrance, until the idea is given to him. Fumbling a hand into his jacket, like grabbing a cigarette case, or a lighter for a beautiful woman, "Ain't a bad idea, element of surprise right?" He pulls out a gun with nichrome type wire attached to it, probably a high-tensile strength line that is really thin for ease of carrying. One might guess enough coils there to get between a building or two and at the top end of what one could carry and travel lightly. "I like your sensibility Miss, its going to be a pleasure working with you." He turns and raises the grappling gun, some homemade device that looks rather capable, aims for somewhere near the awning over the store, give or take, over the front door.

"You cannot be serious." Black Cat's palm slaps against her face, and this time, there is nothing dainty about the swig from the bottle. She keeps drinking too, until she hears the snap of a grappling shot.

A quick set of an anchor to this rooftop, there is a snap as his aim comes true and does make its mark just over the awning. Nice cushy landing spot. "Your choice, you can take a length of wire, zip yourself down, or grab on for the ride." That is, wrap arms around him. "When we hit the ground, give me two shakes to draw guns and rush in. You'll know when it goes down from there." Whether she takes his body as a custom zip-line joy ride or not, he'll leap his shoes over the edge, letting his body follow. His jacket will whip in the wind some and he'll land on that awning, pause for bearings then roll over to street level, ready to charge in.

"I'm such an idiot." Black Cat hisses even as she wraps arms around his midsection. Of course, as soon as they leap off and her hair and clothes whip while freefalling, she can be heard laughing brightly. She releases him a second before landing and rolls in the opposite direction, placing back against the wall. She doesn't follow him from there, at least not yet, letting him take the lead and the brunt of the immediate response. Hey, he told her too.

Pulling two revolvers loaded with six shots each, het gets to the door. Not bothering to knock or try the handle, he kicks in the door, which isn't locked, its set up as a regular store front after all. Then Night Raven leaps in. Blam Blam reports gunfire, his revolver, followed by, "Where's Weng Ho?" Seems he wasn't waiting for them to get smart. If she looks over his shoulder or follows in, there are three men standing near the counter of what could be a dry cleaning establishment. One is bent over the counter with blood after Night Raven's pleasant entrance. Another going for his own piece the third ducking into the back. The man with the piece, a sophisticated automatic pistol of some foreign design, "Its him, boss lady wants this one." Is accented, thick, but understandable. Might be more in the back unseen at the moment.

Black Cat frowns, looking around her surroundings, and then back down the alleyway. If no immediate response, she drops down and steps quickly to the door just as one man is ducking toward the back. She keeps her distance for now, slipping along the edge of the room and sticking to cover. Almost 'certainly' more in the back.

As Black Cat slips around back, gunfire sounds more in the front. Automatic pistol fire returns and then the heavier sound of the old revolvers that Night Raven was carrying. If the gets a peek in the back, there is a computer set up there with the one man who escaped the front and two more thugs. When the one from the front comes back, he talks to the other two - one reaches over to do something with the computer then the grin. Whatever it was for, they stand to leave the computer, getting weapons out. One reaches over to grab a gas canister (like an oxygen tank).

Black Cat observes this from her spot at the window, frowning, and then tries to open the barrier. Assuming it is unlocked, she'll creep her way into the room with the rest distracted with keeping their eyes on the door that Night Raven will undoubtedly be using soon.

Indeed, its unlocked and this allows Black Cat to slip in silently. A good thing, as the three rush forward, guns go silent for a moment. Until the sound of the canister opening can be heard. If she looks along that way, the door between front and this back office/warehouse space is filled with iron bars. The computer was used to spring some trap to lock the front room - perhaps security measures from other thugs and the like, but a perfect trap for Night Raven too. They are filling his room with some sort of gas now. Blindly a couple of more shots sound from Night Raven's revolvers and then go silent. The tinkling sound that echos from the front room would be the first 6-shot clips falling from his guns as he goes to reload. The room becoming hazy as the three remaining thugs open fire into that haze.

Black Cat looks back to the window, tempted. She snarls, though, at the distinctive sound of gun clips hitting the floor. One, two, three. Quietly, she takes the flank of the distracted goon, and grabs for the hair of one man isolated from the other two. If she can get leverage, she'll drive his head right into the wall.

The first one is easy, so focused on the mayhem in the smoke, he's grinning like a kid in a candy story up until he is grabbed and introduced up close and personal to the wall. Thunk! He falls hard and fast, the other two miss it as they fire and indeed, a bullet from Night Raven wanders in this direction. Its evident by the miss of that shot compared to his earlier marksmanship that the gas is affecting him somehow. Its enough to cause one of the thugs to turn and catch a glimpse of his fallen comrade however. If he spots the Cat, he'll try to level a gun on her.

Black Cat was already moving by the time the man's body is falling, kicking at the gas canister with enough force to drive it into one of the gunmen's side, and pouncing on him with a series of sharp knees and then finishing by driving an elbow into his gut and then denting an office chair across his face.

This flurry does cost her though, as she is staring down the business end of the last man who has a piece aimed right at her heart. She takes a sharp breath, staring at the man. Apparently frozen.

The gas cannister rolls, its now spewing gasses towards dry cleaned clothes, rolling fog towards the alley. The thug aiming at Black Cat smiles, hopefully its just a gotcha sucker sort of leer and nothing more. Silence enfolds in that moment, two birds, one stone. Assuming Night Raven is in the gas still, he only focuses on the Cat in front of him. At about that time, as seconds weigh on heavily, Night Raven's gloved hand and jacket sleeve come out of the fog. Without hesitation, the gun aims for a vital spot along the man's brain pan and the report echoes through the room as the man goes cross-eyed, then slumps to the ground.

With a cough of his own, Night Raven goes to his knees again. Its a matter of time before this substance might start affecting the cat. No more thugs it would seem for the now, but if the canister is left indoors or not turned off, everyone will be gassed as Night Raven is now.

Black Cat startles when the shot goes off, as if expecting it to be HER death. Still, she's quick on her feet, rushing toward the canister and shielding her nose with an arm as she blindly gropes at the top to turn the knob and kill the line. She can't check on the Raven until at least that much is handled.

Perhaps in the nick of time, the gas is killed. Even then, she might feel a slight burn to eyes and chest. Not quite like a pepper gas, too much exposure might put someone out of this stuff. But it dwindles enough, lingering slightly. Unlike the front room that received the most of it. As the gas goes silent and hearing returns, she might hear Night Raven coughing from the front room. Not quite knocked out himself, he's holding on as best he can. Still trapped in that cage.

Black Cat's eyes tear up, the gas forcing a body's natural reaction, and she stumbles toward the computer. With a quick swipe at the tears, she looks for any clue on how to unlock the door.

The computer is probably a sure bet. Good news is there seems to be a program open that was probably used to seal the room, bad news, its all in Chinese. A quick scan by someone as intuitive as the Black Cat though reveals that the mouse is hovering over a button that may have been used to drop the bars. There is a button on the screen next to it, a quick view also reveals the window has an X in the upper right corner to close it. So, it could be that one button dropped the bars, the other will open them, or close the program. Something like red wire blue wire, except instead of blowing off fingers, this wrong choice will only close the program making it near impossible to find the controls again in a chinese computer system.

Black Cat just plays it safe, hitting the button that the mouse already lingers over. Click-click!

She looks up, perhaps hoping that her intuition on the manner proves correct. Good luck today?

Clicking the button reveals that the cage begins to rise from the front room. Coughing as the bars rise up, Night Raven staggers on knees into the back room to gasp for some air trying to regain his composure. When he has enough air in his lungs, he'll manage to offer towards Black Cat, assuming its her on the computer. "Not sure which one was Weng Ho, but it might be safe to assume he's dead ...."

Black Cat's lips are compressed into thin lines, stepping away from the computer as Night Raven stumbles into the room. "We should probably go. After something like that, these Dragons you mentioned probably have an entire cleaning squad heading this way." She coughs raggedly again to clear her lungs. "Messy."

Pushing off a nearby chair or desk, Night Raven forces himself to his feet. "Something like that, literal ninja assassins. Clear out, get some fresh air. A cup of coffee would really hit the spot I think." Forget 4-6 dead guys and the one with the broken face, his throat is parched thanks to gas. "Well, that enough to constitute what I owe you?" He offers that heading for the door, this was a tit-for-tat situation and he's over this one, curious of the next. That or making light conversation.

Black Cat would have left her guys alive, though it's possible the Dragons that follow might not be so kind. She winces at his ease at the loss of life, glancing over her shoulder, before following to the exit. "It'll be a grand deal less shooty, you know."

Making sure he get's the door for her in what's left of his old world charm, Night Raven nods as he listens. "Less shooty? More sneaky you mean?" He pats his jacket and trousers down when they are in the alley, as if clearing off the dust, it doesn't so much get rid of the gas that the fabric picked up. If she looks, there are probably a few new bullet holes on him, he doesn't seem to notice one way or the other. "There's a great place not far from here, old diner, we could grab coffee and egg sandwiches even - unless you're still in the mood for rooftop picnics."

"... Sounds great." Black Cat says, smiling. "Yes, sneaky. I am on an investigation about a man named John Aaron and the correlation between him and the shadows that attacked the city not so long ago." She slightly speeds up, and to her credit, there is only the slightest bit of hesitation before she takes his arm to match their stride. "They don't ask questions about masks, do they?"

"Its Manhattan, its almost like, if you don't have someone show up in a mask at some point, you're doomed to fail as a good restaurant." He gladly holds his arm proper like for easy holding just the same. A curiosity comes to his mind. "John Aaron and the shadows? I remember something like that, seems years ago. I spent time recovering with the Avengers. Not Captain America's Avengers though, there was a lady, sort of looked like him, American Dream she went by. Maybe that was a dream though."

"Never heard of her," Black Cat says as they stride out of Death's Alley. "Still, there are so many Avengers and people claiming to be Avengers that it's becoming quite difficult to tell who or what they're supposed to be avenging. Big ole' club. Do you think your friend would know anything about the man?"

"Could be a lead," offers Night Raven in response, "Or a bust. I know there was something of a greek god name Ares, a lot of innocents died, American Dream, in guilt over the loss of life, spent time writing and expressing her sincerities to the next of kin for everyone who died that day." A shrug of indifference from the man in the black suit. "Just meant more voices for a few days until the Raven picked them up. Glad its behind me for now. This some personal business, this John Aaron, or someone else taking an interest in this possible connection?" Not prying for information, tone enough would say he's not looking for any names, he's committed to helping now regardless.

"I lost someone dear to me," Black Cat says, her brow pinching slightly. "A brave man who died for nothing, if the reports are to believed. Just a dirty secret swept under the rug. I want to know if it all meant something." A car whoooooshes by. Maybe even the ninjas that were mentioned... but probably not. Who ever heard of ninjas using cars.

Could be they use the car because no one would expect that, but someone being onto them would mean the car would be a decoy while they are entering by some other means. Night Raven pays no mind to the car, "My Condolenses Miss. It was a bad few days as the shadows came, and good that you are not letting the secret slide so easily to let the innocents be forgotten. Do you suspect John Aaron had something to do with the death of this brave man?" Death talk is a nonchalant topic around Night Raven it would seem.

"I do... but not sure what yet. The man seems to have disappeared after the event, as if he never lived." Black Cat is staring off into the distance, as if lost in her own thoughts. "I know he had something to do with it. How much is what I plan to find out. So, how about you? Why the grudge with this clan?"

As the continue to walk, he sort of leads to the small cafe he had in mind, or presumably that's where he is going. "They are criminals of the worst sort, bringing in copious amounts of drugs for their personal gain," suggests Night Raven, pretty much making all organized crime his enemy. Though he elaborates, "Yi Yang, the Mistress of the Dragon Tong is responsible for much pain in my long live life. I tracked her down original back in '29 or '31. On some level it impressed her enough to take a personal interest."

"Uh." Black Cat says, "Damn. How old does that make you exactly?" It's only rude if you ask a woman after all! She looks up, though, when the diner comes into view. "Oh, it looks nice enough."

Pondering that thought, "Exactly ... I have the benefit of being born on the turn of a century." As if its every day, "So, that would be ...." He looks up even as he moves to grab the door to the quiant, cozy place, "Its 2012 right? ... then 112 presently, not a day over 30, appearance wise, I'm not so lucky." Something escapse him, maybe a harrumph of a laugh then. Its a seat yourself sort of business, doing good with local businesses and denizens that know of this dinner, but still tables and booths left to be had.

Black Cat still remains comfortably perched against him, which means he gets to pick the booth. Or table. "God, you're old... but you lived in all the best times. Oh, what I would have given to see the swingin' twenties." She sighs, shaking her head. "I fear the golden age passed before I so much as opened my eyes."

"That's one way to think of it," says Night Raven, finding a booth and offering her a seat before he moves to sit across from her. "Then again, it was a time when criminals tried to make their own laws and law enforcement couldn't keep up with them. The 20s were a blur for me after the Great War. Its when I realized my grandfather was right about the Raven that visited my dreams."

Black Cat slides in, crossing arms on the table and leaning forward slightly. "You know, it's been a while since I just 'walked' into a place with this suit on. It's a nice change of pace." She chuckles, "So, you got your inspiration from a dream? For me it was by sheer happenstance."

There is a slight nod from Night Raven, "A dream, but the Raven is a mythological figure to the Mohawk." A simple way of saying there might be religious overtones somewhere in all that, dreams and faith. Still he leans back, one hand on the table, the other going over the back of the booth as no one is on the other side. "Happenstance found you in that costume and here I was thinking you new how well it fit your body." Something of a compliment in there.

"Oh you," Black Cat says with a finger wag of mock disapproval. "Of course I would. If you're going to dress up, you don't half-ass it. This costume might be a pain sometimes but it's always proved to be worth the effort. Do you still dream? Or does the hard work of taking on a powerful underworld clan by yourself mean you have no time for that?"

When a waitress stops by, Night Raven orders himself a coffee and whatever the lady will have. Then he continues on the topic of the moment. "Some days I do not sleep. Then, some nights my dreams are filled with the dead. But that is no different than many days I am awake. Perhaps those worlds meet and I stand at the intersection?" Then a shrug, "Besides, weren't you telling me how you fell into this line of work by accident?"

Black. No cream or sugar. Black Cat just wraps her hands around the mug as it arrives, extended claws pecking at the pewter. "Well, yes. Fell into it was a good way of describing the situation. My father was an honest, hardworking man such as yourself. Unfortunatly, he got over his head and I took on this persona to free him." She smiles, "Turns out that I was even better than he was, and once you have had a taste of the thrill of this lifestyle it's painfully difficult to go back to boring ole' jane working a nine to five to pay her mortgage."

Putting his own cup on the table, he twists it lightly back and forth between two fingers as a gloved hand slides idly over the table near that cup. "Better than your father and the thrill of it. One way to put it. I tried once to return to boring ol' a few years back. Doesn't work out that way, don't know if its what we know or what we think we know. Once you've decided to be the good guy or the bad guy, is sort of a role you can't escape from. I should say, I'm glad you adaptated to the thrill of it better than your father."

Black Cat laughs, "Sometimes I wonder that I've adapted too well, but like you said.. once you're in? It's like a web, keeping you forever trapped." She sips from her coffee, though not without a cautious exhale to blow steam away.

Night Raven eventually takes the red stirring straw, slips it under his mask to expose as little underneath as possible for a drink of his own. "From here, you adapted well enough, any complaint otherwise might be unsubstantiated in my professional opinion. A trap it may be, but as you like the thrill, anything more mundane we would bore ourselves. Something like a needed focus."

"I suppose it's a trap that I willingly walk into," Black Cat admits, nodding. "Thank you, by the way. Still, I /clearly/ haven't been doing this as long as yourself. Have any advice? Little bit of old man wisdom?" She plants cheek in hand, smirking.

He's probably taken by the mannerisms of the Cat, as any man would be. So, Night Raven offers advice as best he can. "Don't let them shoot you first, know your boundaries. That and make friends, but you seem to have that one down pat."

"What can I say?" Cat says, "I'm charming." She reaches for her belt, "Thank you for the coffee, Raven." Small bills, a five, is tossed on the table before she is scooting sideways and out of the booth. "I'll be in the Bronx area if you want to meet, but is there a place I should look for you in case of emergency? Or if I get a good lead on this Aaron fellow?"

Reaching into his pocket, Night Raven procures a business card. It is old, hand typed and probably bent some from being in his pocket while on the job, if not having some bullet hole in it. "Call me at the number there," he points as he hands the card over. "Private line, I might not answer, its a real line not a pocket phone." Then going back to sitting on his bench, "Otherwise I might look around for more picnics in the Bronx."

Black Cat tucks the card away into her cleavage, the gesture slow and precise. "I'll leave a message around if nothing else." She leans forward, hand on his shoulder, and if he lets her places a kiss on the cold metal of the mask. It would leave an imprint in her distinctive shade of lipstick. "See you."

If he smiles or blushes, its under the mask and not visible. Night Raven replies, "You as well, take care of yourself, you're easy on the eyes and I'd definitely like to see you around."

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