slam_poetry: (mask: swinging)
Cassandra Cain-Wayne ([personal profile] slam_poetry) wrote in [community profile] agoodyarn2016-08-13 01:34 am

A Bat and a Pyro Walk Out of a Heist

To say that she'd never really seen a criminal behave as if they didn't want to be there would be inaccurate; there were any number of thieves and even murderers who had cold feet, who thought they'd get caught, and even some who had clearly been pulled along when they didn't want to be doing anything of the like. But it was the first time she'd ever seen a single thief going about his business as if he was doing a particularly boring office job, as if the spark had gone out and he could barely stand to be doing what he was doing. It was when he glanced in one of the glass cases, clearly decided he couldn't be bothered mostly because there were a lot of things IN the case, and moved on that she made her own decision.

Within a few moments, she was on the ground, in front of him, tilting her head thoughtfully. It wasn't often she spoke in uniform, but it seemed like the time.

"You don't even want to do this. And you don't need to. Why not stop now?"
firebrawl: (007)

[personal profile] firebrawl 2016-08-15 03:39 am (UTC)(link)
His huff was less exasperation and more amused resignation. He has a shadow for tonight, looks like. An off-duty shadow named Cass, who sometimes dresses up like a bat and talks people out of stealing things they hadn't much felt like stealing in the first place.

Before he can ask if she plays pool, a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. "Rory. Where's your slimier half, anyway? Got a score to settle with him. Tell me!"

He knows that voice, some no-talent Snart had roped in on a job gone bad, ages back. He doesn't turn, or even look away from Cass. "That score's old news. He don't owe you a thing. I'm in a generous mood, so you can have your hand back before I burn it off."
firebrawl: (004)

[personal profile] firebrawl 2016-08-15 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
Holy hell. That might be the most unexpected thing outta the evening. He'd figured she could fight, she wouldn't be running around anywhere dressed like a bat if she couldn't, but. He can't help it. He starts laughing. He's still laughing when the guy slinks back to his feet and hightails it out of there without making eye contact with anyone else, and the door shuts behind him.

"Handy," he says, and orders another pair of shots. He's buying the drinks anyway, but let him buy you a drink for that one. He gives the rest of the bar a look, backing up her don't step up stare, and pats the bar stool again. "Woulda recruited you in the old days. Bet Lise would like you."