#Elle isn't even a murder kitten

[flowerflamestars]

Migration Patterns snippet

“Dick’s not the only one who got a shit ton of training,” he told her, tilting his head. Trying to judge the evenness of her pupils. “You’re cold.”   “City dropped me in my fucking pajamas,” Elle said, tone repressive as the arms she crossed tight over her chest. Like a mirror- the feel of it more a joke, something warm, warm, warm lighting wildly through Jason, she matched the angle of his face before saying in a whole different voice, “Didn’t miss you choking men with your thighs.”   There was blood on the jacket. A least one tear, a missed knife dragged through heavy, expensive fabric- it was sure as shit warmer than the tank top and yoga pants she was wearing.   Jason had it halfway off before he answered, belated. “You were going to kill all of them.”   “Shockingly,” Elle drawled, a whole wave of heat choking him as she held out her hand, taking the suit jacket like a forgone conclusion. “My morals take a raincheck when assholes shoot at my head.”   She wasn’t that small, not really. Short without those shit stomping shoes he was used to seeing her in- delicate to the point of absurdity drowning in his clothes, huddled, huge eyes catching neon.   “Self defense,” Jason heard himself offer, just to see her blink.   Scowl.   A Gotham girl, barefoot in an alley and still ready to go.   “I wasn’t worried,” Elle said, skirting around his body and making a sharp left toward the street.   “I’m parked the other way.”   Elle stopped. Closed her eyes right in the moment he might have really been able to see them, paused beneath the golden light of the stupid faux old-fashion streetlights the city had thrown up all over this district. Not even fucking solar, ugly as sin and twice as expensive as what had been there in the first place.   “I’m good,” she said, before looking back, somewhere toward Jason’s left shoulder, “Thanks for the jacket.”   The absolute fuck she was.   “Elle.”   A tired, inexplicable smile was all the real answer he got. “Night, Jay.”