Gatling

Combat sense: knowing the right move instinctively in any violent situation. I.e, ability to excel in any form of combat: deadly.

[meggiesawyer-deactivated2021012]

Positive people are happier people.

[adrianmoores-blog]

The shake of her head puzzled him, and he paused for a moment to think about it, looking back to the mask on the ground. It was possible she disapproved of the way he reacted to the memory. He bristled at the thought, trying not to appear so defensive as he felt. 

“It depends…” He paused, glancing at the mask. “People leave memories attached to things, and then newer ones usually cover up the old ones. Sometimes, if the emotions are strong enough, I’ll get a pretty old one. This theatre seems to have the oldest though. I’d go somewhere less travelled and see what I find but I’m afraid I might forget this place.” He reached for a crate propped up against the wall and pulled it out, brushing the dust off of it and sitting down with his back against the wall. Light from above filtered through the boards above them, and he admired the lines of warmth they cast across the walls and Shaw’s face, momentarily distracted.

[crookedshaw-blog]

His choice of words struck her as odd. “Afraid you might forget about this place?” She echoed, furrowing her brow. “Don’t tell me you have early onset dementia.” 

Shaw had treated enough terminally ill patients to know it was all downhill from there. Thank fuck she had switched over to trauma. She couldn’t stand all the weepy families. Adrian looked about as sad and as lost as a man who learned his mind was no longer his to control. 

[saoirsekelly-blog1]

Blowing Off Steam | Shaw&Saoirse

[saoirsekelly-blog1]

Saoirse pressed her lips together and swallowed. She didn’t want to think about the subset of people that would love to pay her for her ability. She’d spent long enough doing that already. “I hear once you get into that, it’s hard to get back out,” she said, a half-lie–she personally knew how difficult it was to cut ties with organized crime. “And I don’t want to get trapped into anything I can’t get out of.”

As they stepped into Shaw’s apartment, she almost grinned at the tiny, rundown studio space. Though Adrian’s half of the apartment was messy as hell, her space had always been clean and organized. Maybe because her life was such a chaotic mess for all these years–maybe she enjoyed feeling like something made sense in her life. 

Saoirse stared at Shaw as she unloaded her handgun, thinking back to her 9 millimeter pistol (the only gun she’d ever shot in her life). “Is that an automatic?” she asked, also eyeing the knife on the table. The last time she’d sat in front of this many weapons, she’d been threatened with her life by the head of the Irish mob. 

Didn’t exactly bring up good memories. 

She took the scotch gratefully, though. “Here’s to getting rich,” she added, taking the shot in one smooth motion, her face screwing up from the bitter taste. “Jesus, how do you drink this stuff?” 

[crookedshaw-blog]

“Semi-automatic, you could say. Single action and dual action trigger.” She clinked the neck of her bottle to Saorise’s glass. “Got me a girl who can do both.” 

“You know...” Shaw rolled her head lazily to look at the other woman after taking a generous gulp of scotch, not letting their previous conversation go. “Most people would think I was talking about kinky, old, white men and bondage when I mentioned your powers. Your mind went straight to torture. You must keep some interesting company.” Her casual indifference was offset by the knowing glint in her dark eyes. Dangerous secrets were her favorite kind of secrets, and it sounded like Saoirse had a few.

She took the empty glass from Saoirse’s hand and set it on the kitchen counter next to her bottle. Shaw invited herself into the other woman’s space with languid steps. “So what kind of magic can you work with your fingers?” She breathed out, her tone low with the promise of less than honorable intentions.

[lonnie-solomon-blog]

Blinking through the blur, Lonnie allowed his eyes to adjust to the changes in light, the darkened corridor flickering around him in the peripherals of his vision. He saw differently than the others, had to rely more on motion to understand the world around him, and he was grateful when the woman properly angled the torch away from his face. His pupils dilated as he watched her, his own phone angled in such a way to illuminate some of the space between them. And as the perplexity flashed across Shaw’s features, it did not go unnoticed.

“Last time I checked,” Lonnie replied with a smile, cocking his head to one side. The question was not offensive, and in some ways, he appreciated its brusqueness. It saved him quite a bit of trouble when people simply said what they meant, as much as he himself tended to ramble. All the same, Lonnie shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Don’t feel bad. I can’t even hear…myself coming.”

The joke fell somewhat flat despite the earnestness with which he delivered it, but it seemed again to at least in part be an apology for sneaking up on her after the fall. 

[crookedshaw-blog]

Oh, good. He was honest. A terrible quality in an aspiring career criminal, but at least Shaw knew she could discuss this without bumbling her way around social conventions. The man seemed to fall under more of the compassionate side, judging by his automatic response to reassure her. She raised an eyebrow at his attempt at a joke not chose not to comment. At least he didn’t seem like the type to stab people in the back.

“I don’t feel bad.” She replied with the same bluntness as before. “But I need to know what’s the best way for us to communicate with you silently over distances. We can’t exactly text you every command. A phone vibrating could give you away, or it might not give you enough time to check the message and react.” 

[saoirsekelly-blog1]

Blowing Off Steam | Shaw&Saoirse

[saoirsekelly-blog1]

Saoirse jerked back a little, surprised at the offer. She’d never–fuck. This was probably a bad idea, but she was very tipsy and her decision-making process was questionable at best. It was simple to just say it, outright and bold: “we could try both, but I’ve been told I’m a pretty bad fighting partner. Even with this lovely power-up.” She wiggled her fingers as she laughed, surprised it was so easy to chuckle around Shaw. 

“So,” she said, sighing as the icy London wind nearly blew her away. “Where’s your apartment? The tube is only a block away.” 

[crookedshaw-blog]

“You know…there’s a whole subset of people out there who would really enjoy your powers, Kelly.” Shaw glanced to her side with an impish smirk. “Like beg you and throw money at you for.”

While she didn’t make it a habit of bringing people back to her place, she was about to dump the joint anyway. It served its purpose as a safe house, but upgrading to a place with consistent hot water was on her list of things to do. As they rode back to her dingy apartment, Shaw steadfastly ignored the safety handles that dangled out of her reach and sat down. Who had time for that tall people nonsense?

The apartment building she lived in wasn’t exactly gracefully aging, judging by the stuck front door and lack of elevators, but even so, Shaw’s personal space was spotless and organized. The studio was small, so she had to push aside the coffee table and couch opposite of her bed as she waved Saoirse inside. 

She emptied the chamber of her handgun and sidearm, ejecting the magazines for good measure as a sign of good faith and set the disassembled parts on the table along with her customary knife. Of course, Saoirse didn’t have to know about the other loaded weapons hidden around.

Pouring the woman a finger of scotch, Shaw held out the glass to her and raised the bottle in her hand for a toast. “Here’s to not fucking up our first heist.”

[claraxxlarson-blog]

[matilda-larsson-blog]

“Well, obviously I would as well.” She offered a wry smile. Matilda stepped back so Shaw could climb her way out, was poised to bolt in the event the floor surrounding the hole gave way. Only when Shaw had both feet on solid ground did she let out a sigh of relief.

“There’s an idea,” Matilda said. She certainly wouldn’t have thought of purchasing equipment. “I think we’re lacking a telepath, unfortunately. Although there may still be time for recruitment.” She grinned - the prospect of adding another variable to the equation at this point was daunting, to say the least. “Where to?”

[crookedshaw-blog]

Shaw crossed her arms, cocking her head at the woman in front of her as she considered their options. The blonde was tall (almost an entire foot taller than she was, fucker), willowy without much in the way of curves. Sending her in to seduce the lecherous shopkeeper Shaw had in mind wasn’t an option. And obviously, buying all of the equipment they needed wasn’t an option, so they really only had one choice. 

“Okay,” she straightened up, planting her hands on her hips. “I wanna see what you can do. And I don’t mean with your powers, whatever they are. We’re gonna smash and grab a warehouse for an online store a couple of cities over. It should have everything we need. We get in and out undetected. Should be a piece of cake, seeing as we’re all here to rob a bank.” 

[saoirsekelly-blog1]

Blowing Off Steam | Shaw&Saoirse

[saoirsekelly-blog1]

Saoirse followed her out after forcing the cash register open with the bartender’s keys. Around three hundred in cash, give or take, and she left him the tip jar. She figured he deserved it. No video evidence meant no one would be able to find them later, so she didn’t bother covering her face as she strode out of the bar as Shaw held the door open. “Glad you find it impressive.” And that wasn’t even the full range of her power–low end of it, actually. 

If Shaw wanted a show,  she could give her a show. 

“Sounds great. As long as it’s not beer, I fucking hate beer.” Expensive tastes and all. Not a great trait for a Starbucks employee. “Fine, but you get to show me some shit too. Maybe a little target practice?” She couldn’t help but grin, wondering what kind of weapons and ammunition Shaw had stashed in her apartment. 

[crookedshaw-blog]

Shaw chuckled at Saoirse’s choice of words. “You comin’ onto me, Kelly? I only ever fight or fuck my targets, so if you’re offering to practice...” She let the rest of the sentence hanging in the air with a suggestive smirk.

Not that she would mind either. With the night they had, Shaw was still keyed up from the action. The rush of satisfaction from doing what she was good at was the closest Shaw would ever come to happiness--and that wasn’t meant in a defeatist, “pity me” way, it was just how she was wired. It wouldn’t be long until the feeling faded, and then Shaw would be left chasing after the next adrenaline rush life had to offer. 

[adrianmoores-blog]

Crossed arms. That usually meant closed off, or uncomfortable. There was a disconnect between their demeanors: he was a mess of emotions (as usual), and she was a brick wall (to him, at least). Awkwardness hung in the musty air between them.

“I see something from their perspective. They don’t usually have to have owned it, just have a memory of it. In this case it was the mask– the eyes, at least. I looked into its eyes here and suddenly I was back then, staring into its eyes on someone’s face.” Such an ambiguous power had always been difficult to define, but eventually it had just become a way of life to him. He explained it to others as best he could, but sometimes it came across like explaining color to the blind. As for Shaw’s power… They hadn’t quite figured that out yet. It was a mystery, but an interesting one. 

[crookedshaw-blog]

...Amazing. The man was the living embodiment of capturing the human experience through his art and powers, and yet he seemed so reluctant to experience it himself, shying away from others. Shaw had to shake her head at the irony. While she struggled to form any meaningful bonds with people, Adrian literally walked in their shoes whether he wanted to or not. 

“So...Exactly how far back can you see?” She raised an eyebrow as her stance relaxed. “Hypothetically speaking, if I brought you a piece of Abraham’s Ark, would you be able to see if there really was an apocalyptic flood? Because that’d be pretty fucking cool.” 

[risksandremy-blog]

An Arranged Marriage || Oliver & Shaw

@crookedshaw

The entire wardrobe in Oliver’s guest room was full of suits. Made to Measure. He found them the best. A perfect fit without all the hassle of bespoke. As quality as they usually were, he simply didn’t have the patience to wait for something to be constructed from scratch. Not to mention the endless fittings. He didn’t know any tailors he desired spending that much time with. Scanning the walk-in’s contents he decided on a navy Duchamp. The silk jacquard, single breasted tuxedo jacket paired nicely with his broad shoulders plus, he looked bad-ass in a bow-tie. Real James Bond like, Oliver.

Admiring himself in the full length mirror, he adjusted his tie. He hadn’t had an occasion to wear a suit since before the Van Allen. He always felt a little more powerful in them, even debated wearing them on a daily basis once, but ultimately decided against it. His dry cleaning bill would likely become horrendous.

The sound of his phone vibrating against the wood of his dresser brought him out of his narcissistic stupor. His car was downstairs. He quickly equipped his pockets with his smokes, phone, knucks, wallet and a Tiffany ring box he had acquired on his way home. He didn’t have much time, nor did he know Shaw’s ring size, so he had practically ran to the girl at the counter and picked the fanciest thing he could find. A 2 carat Tiffany Novo, size 6. Women always seemed to be a size 6. Clothes, shoes, he imagined it extended to jewelry as well. He almost choked on his own spit forking over the 40 grand for it. They should really put price tags on those things. 

As the town car pulled up alongside the bank, Oliver picked out Shaw immediately. Hopping out he sauntered up to her, a huge, teeth baring grin covering his face. She looked absolutely stunning. “My darling Shaw.” He pulled the black suede box from his pocket and popped it open. “Will you pretend marry me?” He smirked. “I’d kneel but… I don’t wanna ruin my pants.”

[crookedshaw-blog]

If there was anything her intelligence work taught her, it was how to be adaptable. She could do anything to get the job done, even tempering her usual intimidating aura into a softer, more feminine one. As she waited outside the bank, people walked around her and left a bubble of a meter at all times. With a subtle touch of makeup and a little black number, Shaw looked a different kind of dangerous--the kind that left men and women alike with broken hearts and empty bank accounts. 

She traded in her guns and knives for a pair of stiletto heels, and they clicked down the sidewalk as she strutted towards her partner in crime. Shaw matched his smirk with a sly smile of her own, infinitely amused that Oliver was committed to meeting her challenge. “And here I was, bracing myself for disappointment. Not bad, Kitson.” 

She didn’t know shit about rings, but the one he was holding up to her looked real enough. It must have cost him a pretty penny, and it even looked like it would fit. “Go on then,” she raised her hand. “Make an honest woman out of me.” Shaw purred.

[risksandremy-blog]

Oliver’s felt his veins warm as the electricity inside him reminded him why he worked so hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyebrows furrowed together as he watched Shaw salute him. “Oh yea?” He widened his stance and crossed his arms tightly in front of him. “Well, you couldn’t afford one of my beds anyway!” What? His cheeks burned as he immediately regretted saying that out-loud. Normally he would just punch someone who gave him the kind of lip she did. He was going to have to seriously work on his comebacks. 

He felt his stomach flutter a bit as he watched Shaw turn to leave, quickly convincing himself it was at the prospect of losing what could be the beginning of a very lucrative business endeavor. “Ok you wanna talk business,” He said. “Let’s talk.” His voice came out much lower and more crackly than he anticipated. He was trying to sound manly and in charge but it just sounded like he swallowed a spoonful of gravel. He cleared his throat and pulled his trusty pack of smokes from his pocket, flipping one up between his lips. “We could stake out the bank.” He patted his pockets for a lighter, rolling his eyes as his efforts were ultimately futile. “It would give us some privacy.” He shrugged. A moment later his eyes lit up as his face produced a cheeky grin. “I’ll bring the air mattress.”

[crookedshaw-blog]

Oh, this poor boy. He was playing right into her hands and didn’t even know it. Shaw turned around slowly to see Oliver puffed up like a bird trying to assert its dominance. His temper and pride would be his downfall. And wit, she observed wryly. 

“I think you meant to say you’ll be bringing a mop.” Shaw arched her eyebrow at him. “We’ll be doing some cleaning later. Unless you’re afraid of ruining your manicure.” She was going to make it her life’s mission to annoy the shit out of him. This was way too much fun. “We can talk shop some other time.” She said shrugging. “I’ve got your number.”

Much like a tiger slowly stalking its prey, Shaw sauntered back over and stole the unlit cigarette from his lips for herself. Lighting it, she took a drag and smirked. “But you do bring up a great point.” She drawled. “Suit up and meet me at the bank in two hours, Kitson. Oh, and bring a ring. We’re gonna be opening a joint bank account.”   

If Oliver was as charming as he thought he was, they might be able to swing a tour of the bank’s vault as a rich couple. Shaw enjoyed a good ol’ fashioned stakeout as much as the next person, but if they were going to pull off a heist during the day, then she needed to know where the guards were at inside.

[adrianmoores-blog]

Adrian met her eyes for a moment, before deciding to be the first to break contact. He looked back to the darkened hallway ahead of him, the image of a hulking figure still burned into his eyes. “Just friends playing jokes. Nothing that really furthers the mystery of this place.” He didn’t go into much detail– it didn’t seem like anyone else would want to hear it. Typically he only told it to those he was close to, which was limited to Saoirse for the time being. He couldn’t remember any best friends he’d had before that. He had a nagging suspicion that if there were any, he’d lost them among all of the fragments of foreign memories.

“It doesn’t always happen like that. I don’t even notice, usually. Not unless it’s a strong emotion.” He hadn’t explained this to many people. Brooks and Saoirse knew, but speaking of it to a near stranger was an unusual feeling, and he made eye contact again to try to gauge her reaction. Shaw was more difficult to read than most, and Adrian was sure his hesitance showed in his eyes.

[crookedshaw-blog]

It was like the man was labeled Fragile: Handle With Care. His soulful eyes were disturbingly emotive, like he was pleading with her not to take advantage of this information, and it made Shaw uncomfortable because she didn’t know what to do with it. Was she supposed to acknowledge his hesitance? Show sympathy? Reassure him? What the fuck, was he opening up and it was supposed to be some kind of big deal? She shifted her weight onto one foot, crossing her arms. 

“So just past events then?” Shaw deflected. “How does that work? Do you see the person who owned the item, last used it, or what?” It’d probably be a good idea if Adrian didn’t go anywhere near her guns. 

[saoirsekelly-blog1]

Blowing Off Steam | Shaw&Saoirse

[saoirsekelly-blog1]

Alright, so Saoirse did not see that coming. 

She had to say, she hadn’t seen Shaw in action yet, but she had underestimated how impressive her combat sense was. She pulled it all off seamlessly, sometimes reacting blindly and hitting the target perfectly regardless. She’d guessed her ability was a minor plus, especially for the group, but if Shaw (short, tiny, and definitely half each of their sizes) could take down three guys at once, she’d be more of an asset than she realized. 

Saoirse coughed a little, looking down at the unconscious threesome. “Damn,” she said. “Let a girl finish her drink first.” She hopped off the bar stool, abandoning her freshly served drink on the counter. 

“Hey, you can’t just leave without–” the bartender tried to protest, but Saoirse reached over the counter and grabbed the back of his head, turning down the pain threshold enough so it would shock him into compliance but wouldn’t ruin his life. (She’d learned that if you turn up the pain too high, it caused permanent nerve damage, a discovery that had haunted her ever since.) He tried to grab at the wooden bar before falling to the ground.

“Well,” she finally decided, “I like you.” More of a compliment than Shaw realized, considering Saoirse was slow to like anyone. 

[crookedshaw-blog]

Shaw was about to take money from the three stooges’s wallets to cover their tab, but then Saoirse shut the bartender up in her own special way. “Ooh.” Her interest piqued, sliding the money into her own pocket instead. “Girl, you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

No one dared to stop them now. They weren’t even sure what they just witnessed. A quick glance around ensured that nobody had been fast enough to pull out their cameras and record them. Shaw hopped over the counter and sidestepped the barman slumped on the floor, ejecting the DVD recording security footage and snapped it in half. Dropping the pieces, she smoothly hopped over the counter again and made to leave.

Stepping over the bodies, Shaw held open the door for her companion to exit first. “I’ll pour you another drink at my place if you tell me how that works.” She nodded toward Saoirse’s hands and winked. Since, you know. She liked her and all. Maybe she could even learn more about how this group of ‘X-Men gone bad’ started.

[lonnie-solomon-blog]

Lonnie lingered uncertainly in place, apparently trying to decide whether or not he should properly lend a hand. But the woman seemed to have herself under control, and so, he simply fished his cellphone out his pant pocket, fiddling with it until its dull flashlight glowed to life. Its shine illuminated the passageway just enough for him to properly see her face. Bitchy? No, that couldn’t be right. Peachy. ‘P’ uses air. He managed to snag on to the rest of her words.

“I was just…exploring,” he explained, somewhat bashfully, voice deliberate as he felt his way through the syllables. He fumbled a bit with the phone in his hand, habit compelling him to flail around with it as he spoke, but the sudden light from Shaw’s own torch brought his arm up to shield his eyes. He blinked a few times, getting used to the glow. Still, it was perhaps the first time he realized just how dilapidated the place really was. The darkness was bad enough, but now, with everything laid bare, one could truly see how deeply the rot had taken hold.

He watched as the woman took in those surroundings, but whatever she was musing, it was lost on the man. He had imagined there would be secrets, of course. He had gone in search of them, but that investigation had only just begun. And so, the question struck him oddly.

“Not a lot. This passage wraps around that way. There’s a ladder…um, leading up,” he continued, extending a hand to point, keeping his eyes trained on her. Perhaps it was hidden after all, he thought. Its discovery had certainly involved more than a little stumbling. And it was an awful lot of space to use for only the occasional specter or witch’s entrance and exit. 

[crookedshaw-blog]

Shaw angled her flashlight away from his face and titled her head at him, watching the man curiously as he processed her words just a fraction off and stared at her lips too intently. The way his tongue curled around his words didn’t register at first when she was too busy regaining her bearings after the fall. She lost interest in poking around the dark corridor as a memory surfaced.

She knew a medic who spoke like that once. He never pronounced his consonants sharp enough and his vowels dragged for too long. She thought it was nothing more than a speech impediment, but then the soldier stepped onto a field she was warning him away from and a land mine swiftly claimed him. It wasn’t until after she delivered the news to the medic’s next of kin as his commanding officer that Shaw learned he was deaf. It wasn’t his family’s tears that disturbed her so much as the fact nobody fucking told her. A senseless death could have been prevented had she known. He could have gone on to save more lives.

Shaw frowned as she stared at the man in front of her. “Are you deaf?” She asked bluntly. 

This amateur group couldn’t afford to fall apart due to a lack of communication during their first heist. Sure, it’d mean more money to spit between the rest of them, but that was only assuming no one carrying the cash was caught. This needed to be addressed, now.

[matilda-larsson-blog]

“Shopping wouldn’t be a bad idea. I’m two Starbucks drinks away from declaring bankruptcy, but considering the state of this place it might be worth the splurge.” She cast a disdainful glance at the thick, graying curtains. The theater was beautiful - she couldn’t deny that - but she was sick of tracking dust back into her apartment. “Don’t some people have allergies?”

Without warning she doubled back, picked up the milk crate by the door, returned to the hole and knelt. “It’s not exactly a ladder, but it’s the best I can give you. Unless you like it down there.”

[crookedshaw-blog]

“I pity the fool who has allergies.” She replied dryly. Did Europeans have any respect for Mr. T? Did they have respect for dignity? Didn’t seem like it, judging by the milk crate held down to her. Shaw let out a long-suffering sigh, accepting the offending boost up to freedom. The woman could have at least dragged some rope over. 

Once out of the hole, Shaw patted herself as clean as she could from dust and cobwebs. She missed the smudge of dirt on her cheek but wasn’t aware of it. “We might as well grab some gear. I’m willing to bet my left arm that no one’s thought to equip each other with comms. Radios and earpieces for each of us, unless someone’s packing Professor X powers that I don’t know about.” She quirked her eyebrow at the other woman. 

[risksandremy-blog]

Oliver usually found such forwardness off-putting, but there was something different about Shaw he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that made her attitude seem, charming. Plus, she was incredibly easy on the eyes. Shit! Shake it off man. She’s just another girl. 

He shuffled even closer to her, closing the gap between them until their noses were practically touching. Her breath warmed his lips. Grasping her hands he moved them away from his face and down to their sides. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean love.” He reached into his pocket and produced a small business card that read:

Stepping back he flicked the card up in front of her, replacing the space previously occupied by their noses with his phone number. “But if you’re in the market for a sofa, ring me.” Half of his face scrunched up as he gave Shaw an acknowledging wink.

[crookedshaw-blog]

Not even a sucker punch could wipe the smile of amusement that spread across her face when she took the card. “Furniture,” she held the card up, biting down a snicker. “Really?” Shaw memorized the number after a second then slipped it into her pocket with a shrug. Alright, if that’s the way he wanted to play it.

“I might be interested in a bed and someone to help break it in, but you don’t seem to be the kind of man I’m looking for.” She lazily saluted him and turned to leave. “Too bad. See ya, sofa boy.”

[adrianmoores-blog]

Adrian glanced to the beam, curious as to its use. Why would a theatre need such strong defense? Sure, it played home to a heist society, but in all the memories he’d picked up, none of them seemed from a defensive perspective. He turned back and took a few quicker steps to catch up, knowing he’d be blind if he was left flashlight-less in the pitch black space. 

He hummed in understanding, basking in the needless praise with a smile obscured by darkness. “Thanks, I think. Maybe I should sit on a street corner and sell my art. Complete the look.” 

Tracing his finger through the dust on a shelf, he almost missed the mask flying at him out of the corner of his eye. Left hand shooting up, he caught it just before his face, dark eyes meeting empty holes– and suddenly the scene changed. It was still dark, but dim candlelight lit the space now. It was quiet as he stepped forward, and out of the dark corner stepped a looming figure, face adorned with the same mask he’d held a moment earlier. Distantly he felt himself press one hand against the wall and step backwards, the other lifting in defense– but in the memory he’s frozen by shock. The figure steps forward, lifting their arms as if to strike– and then pulls the mask off, laughing. 

Adrian dropped back to the present, trying to act as if nothing had happened while he dropped the mask and brushed the dust off of his hands. No fear lingered from the memory, only irritation and embarrassment– not his own, for the most part, but it was hard to tell in the moment. He glanced up, eyes pinned on his companion for a reaction.

[crookedshaw-blog]

Shaw had been watching him the entire time with a dark intensity, so when their gazes met, she held it unflinchingly. “See something interesting?” A loaded question to be sure. She hadn’t known any of them long enough to trust, and she was curious to know who among them were more eager to accept each other. 

Shaw didn’t buy into their theory that she had enhanced senses, but she wasn’t going to question it either if it meant she could make some serious cash from it. What she did know was that she worked in close quarters with metahumans--some of which still hadn’t disclosed their abilities to the entire group--and Shaw needed to profile each and every one of them. This was an unfamiliar, unstable, and potentially hostile environment. She had to know all of their strengths and weaknesses. Not only would it give her a competitive edge against these metahumans should something go wrong, but if they really did manage to pull together for a heist, then she’d have to know how they complement each other.