[for Selina]

[daretodo]

I’m still riding the adrenaline rush from a training session with Cap as I make my way back home. My t-shirt’s bunched into a ball in my hand, and I tip my face up to meet the sun through the trees. I wouldn’t say no to some rain to cool off, but the sky above me is clear.

Figures. When you want it to rain, there’s not a drop to be found.

I stop on the spot, taking in a deep breath — smelling the flowers, so to speak. When I look back ahead and see who’s coming down the boardwalk, my stomach flips, then drops out. There’s no room for a hasty exit, so I stand my ground, holding my empty hand palm out in a mocking gesture of surrender.

“I swear I’m not following you,” I tell one Selina Kyle. “It’s a free boardwalk.”

Comments

[purrloined]

"Nothing is free," Selina replies without breaking stride. She's started amassing a wardrobe- just a few pieces, but when something black and not horrendous offers itself up, she grabs it.

The current stock left her in white shorts and a black camisole, and lightweight black canvas sneakers. Not bad. At least her sunglasses classed the ensemble up a bit.

"And that sounds like something a stalker would say," she adds, stopping a few feet from him and lifting one challenging eyebrow.

It does not escape her that half dressed, mild-mannered-if-slightly-cagey Peter Parker's body is insane. No degree of hitting the books could produce that kind of musculature.

What is the science professor up to?

[daretodo]

I drop my hand once she's closer, but mostly I'm trying not to look too much at her legs. Maybe she's got the right idea with the sunglasses, but the last thing I want is for Tony to accuse me of ripping off his style.

"Then I'm a stalker who believes in coincidences," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "Your, ah, threat was received loud and clear. I'd like to stay above ground."

I have some experience with being buried alive -- enough to know that I don't want to do it again.

"Besides--" I smile tightly. "I do actually have better things to do than follow you around."

[purrloined]

"I sort of doubt it," she replies, smiling easily.

"And I don't make threats, they're tacky. I am simply a woman of my word."

[daretodo]

I bristle a little.

"And here I thought there wasn't any honor amongst thieves."

Yeah, yeah, yeah, blank slate, but she has stolen on the Island, so I don't feel too bad about bringing it up. Again.

I step around her. "See ya around. Or... Not. I guess."

[purrloined]

She watches him bristle and close off- more interestingly, struggle to close off.

"I guess," she echoes, feeling almost disappointed. Which is a dumb thing to feel, it's not like she should be wasting time antagonizing some hapless guy for no reason except that she has the time. There's so damn much of it.

[daretodo]

I manage all of a couple of steps before I find that I'm turning back around in spite of myself.

"You know--" It explodes out of me, sharp and irritated. I suck in a breath, then sigh. "I wasn't looking into you. The stuff I know about you, it's--" I look up, searching for the right word. I settle on, "Complicated."

[purrloined]

Selina stays facing him sidelong, but slowly lifts her hand to remove her sunglasses and push them back into her hair. Her expression isn't masked, her eyes aren't covered. He has her attention.

"How complicated."

[daretodo]

My breath catches, just a little, at being on the meeting end of that look. I clear my throat.

"You know anything about the multiverse?"

[purrloined]

"Let's pretend I don't," she says, because obviously she has no idea what the hell he's talking about.

[daretodo]

I shift my weight, dragging my empty hand through sweaty hair. I might've thought that one through. Wiping off my palm against my thigh, I pad over towards a tree and lean back against the trunk.

"It's a hypothesis that suggests there are an infinite number of possible universes," I explain. "You've clearly looked at the public records. You probably noticed a few familiar names there, right? Jane Lipton, née Bennet. James Bond. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Harry Potter. Peter Pan. People out of fiction. Except, according to this hypothesis.... They're not. Somewhere out there, there really is a galaxy far far away."

I pause, making sure she's following.

[purrloined]

"So this place is, what, some kind of supercosmic nexus?" she asks, sounding deeply skeptical, almost annoyed. The number of recognizable names had been high, but hey, people are people wherever you go, and the island had to have its fair share of crazies.

"The wizarding world of Harry Potter just decided to dump half its roster on a magical island floating out of sync with the space time continuum?"

[daretodo]

I grin. A real, genuine grin. Those don't happen all too often, so I make note of it.

"Basically, yeah," I chirp. "See, where I'm from... You're a story. People dress up as you for Halloween."

Which I'm pretty sure always bugged Felicia, honestly, but I keep that bit to myself.

[purrloined]

In response to the grin, which is sudden and genuine and kind of handsome, she scowls at him, and in response to the new information he provides, it deepens. She catches a breath and straightens slightly, working her jaw for a moment, then squinst at him again.

"What."

[daretodo]

I wind my shirt behind my neck, letting drape over my shoulders, then hold up my hands. I got so excited by her saying supercosmic nexus that I forgot that this isn't supposed to be a happy conversation.

"In my world, you're in... Comics. Cartoons. Movies. TV shows," I say, a little slower. I'm quick to add, "I don't know details. I just know your name. And, uh, what you did for a living, with the... Thievery."

And the kind of men she likes to date.

[purrloined]

Selina is very, very still, and though the lines of her face remain drawn tight, her eyes betray- something. They're large and soulful and dark in the place they're not flecked green or hazel, doe eyes that she has used thousands of times in thousands of cons, a hundred fights.

The downside to having those eyes is they sometimes nearly give her away.

"They don't make cartoons about people like me. What are you leaving out."

[daretodo]

Again: not an easy conversation. She's taking it better than I might have, a perfect stranger admitting they know about your life. I'm telling the truth, though. I don't know details. I don't recognize her, specifically. If she's in a movie, it's one I haven't seen yet.

And with the look on her face, I don't think I'll be hunting it down, Batman Movie Night be damned.

"You're, uh, a... Supporting character in a lot of things with Batman in the title," I admit quietly, almost sympathetic.

[purrloined]

She was, she decided, going to have to have a talk with Damian.

"...Figures," she says quietly, and mostly to herself.

She wonders how many versions of herself there are out there in the multiverse. She wonders where the branching off happened in their lives. She wonders if her series got cancelled after Bane killed the Batman.

After a moment, her gaze flicks back up to Peter, and she regards him quietly for a moment before reaching up and replacing her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose.

"Thank you for telling me."

[daretodo]

"Don't mention it," I murmur, shooting her a mildly concerned glance.

"I wasn't a big fan. Superheroes are a dime a dozen where I'm from, but... Catwoman and Batman, they enjoyed a certain notoriety. I know you're from Gotham. I know you're a thief." My brows go up, mouth twisting in a wry smile as I look away. "I know you like guys like Tony Stark."

[purrloined]

Catwoman? Selina's eyebrows crawled up visibly and she laughed, glancing away herself, for a moment.

"Jesus. Yeah, Pete, narcissistic, complacent rich guys. That's my type." She shook her head a little and reached back to twist her hair up off her neck, rope it in a messy bun and tie it off. It fell in a way that looked impeccably styled.

"But who doesn't enjoy a little notoriety. Is that why you're friends?" she asks, angling her gaze back at him.

"You're super heroes?"

[daretodo]

Well, well, well. That's interesting. Not that I have time to think on her apparent dislike for narcissistic, complacent rich guys for very long, 'cause I realize I just came dangerously close to outing myself.

"No," I say, and I tell myself it's not a lie because I'm answering a different question. "We're friends because we're scientists. We speak the same language."

[purrloined]

"Different dialects," she says, knowing he'll know what she means, expression and tone a little closer to flat, to neutral, where she wanted it.

[daretodo]

My earlier sympathy evaporates in an instant. Maybe I should've just stuck with the superhero conversation. I can count on one hand the people I've actually told here, but I recognize the looks I get sometimes. I'm a story somewhere, too, my life condensed into bite-sized entertainment fit for a ten-year-old. I could just tell her. Spider-Man won't mean anything to her.

I get the unwelcome mental image of Norman Osborn asking me to choose which woman I want to save and I force a breath out through my teeth. I let my hands relax when I feel my nails digging deep into my palms.

"Point is, we still get each other."

[purrloined]

Her eyes narrow behind her shades but not in displeasure. She's figured out some of Pete's buttons and can press them deftly enough, but the ways he reacts, the varying intensity, it doesn't make a full picture. It doesn't totally make sense. She looks him over, gaze traveling down to his hands and then up, taking in the ropey muscle, the scars. She feels herself tensing slightly in reaction to him because whatever it is she just brushed up against, it's much more sensitive nerve than the one she'd hit at Mardi Gras.

"...Look," she says quietly, after a moment, not sounding contrite, but tone softer, at least.

"I don't oh, God," she says, starting to shrug back into what is unquestionably a fighter's stance when a giant blue parrot descends from the trees above them and lands on her. It's on her, giant grey talons curving around her bicep and shoulder. It's on her and angling its face in her face then scooting up her arm to get, of all things, closer.

"What are- what- what the hell."

[daretodo]

It takes me a second to process what the heck I'm even seeing, but the disbelieving laughter is quick to follow.

Talk about a change in mood.

"Omigod, it's Tweety Bird's revenge," I cackle, instinctively moving forward to help get the parrot away before Miss Puddy Tat, here, brings out the claws. All I see are flailing arms and feathers, but I get a grip on the bird's talons, prying them off her arm. "Here--!"

[purrloined]

"Why is this happen- shut up, Parker!" Selina snaps, sneaking her own hand back, behind her neck, pushing her hand under where the bird has planted its other foot across her neck and shoulders.

"Get- Hey!" she snaps again as the bird allows its feet to be slightly dislodged but lifts the sunglasses off of her face delicately, with the curve of it's beak.