She’s used to the rebuttals herself, used to people looking down on her for what she does. It doesn’t change anything; what they do makes a difference, a real difference, and they can handle that weight on their souls.
“Got any tea here?” xitter.cf/SCOURGEOFCRIME/status/…
— “There should be more people out there that do what you do.” She muses, before she walks away from where he sits, removing the towel from her hair to let it air dry instead.
Things have always been a little different for her. She does things in the name of her justice, sure, but she also takes the money if someone offers her a job. She’s less duty bound to rid the world of its evils than he is — but she respects his unflinching compulsions. —
She stops over his shoulder, glancing at the screen as it plays out in front of her.
“… you never stop, do you? Chasing scum.”
His typing has her intrigued; intrigued enough that she starts to walk over to him.
“.. what are you doing?”
“Let’s just say if someone knows what to do with their seeds, you could make a lot of money selling them to the right people.” Cryptic, but this is Hell’s Kitchen. Everything here runs on crime and dealers and users, manipulators and victims.
She straightens up, —
“Hm.” She takes a few steps closer to the poppies, bending down to inspect them a little more closely. “You know what you can make with red poppies too, right?”
She glances around at the scene, eyes finally coming to a stop at his attire before her gaze raises to him again.
“This has to be more nefarious than it looks.”
No part of her had expected the cellar to open up; Elektra glancing back over her shoulder to see a familiar gloved hand extending to her.
“You’ve taken to the underground?” She asks, taking his hand to allow him to help her down to join him.
Hands still drying her hair, she eyes him a moment where he sits.
“Thanks for letting me use your shower.”







