Soft material of the sponge moulded to the contours of her skin, cooling heated skin in what the blonde would have labelled as refreshing despite how lips remained slightly parted as a memento of the gasp that had died on her tongue at the initial contact. The chill was not unlike that of the small piece of metal that currently leached the warmth from the palm of her hand, fingers tightening sporadically against the mutated bullet which left half moon indents of her own nails that contrasted the otherwise flawless flesh once her digits had unfurled. Emerald hues remained on the small object, finding herself disgruntled that something so seemingly insignificantly minuscule could cause such extensive damage.
A contemplative frown drew her lips together and the goddess found herself wondering what degree of severity an incident had to be before it could be classed as an emergency in this realm, conceding after a moment, that it was best left to the side for the moment - perhaps fishing it from the pool of her thoughts, on a rainy day such as this one, for further consideration - thanking the dark haired man for his explanation with a gratuitous nod of her head. Besides, from her experience, there were enough feathered beasts in the city for the humans to avail of; were their telecommunication devices inaccessible.
"You have my thanks," she told him, the sentiment as genuine as it could be, confusion still lingering in what she'd said, almost imperceivable though still present, not unlike the taste of lemon in a maderia cake. It was a rarity, she had learned, for one to engage in an act of kindness without expecting something in return, part of the sorceress still expecting a request of a favour or service from Jamie, unable to quell the part of her that remained naturally suspicious. A soft huff was expelled following her expression of gratitude, once his question had played on her ears in a similar manner to the rain against the window; not demanding though merely wishing to alert to its presence.
The material that rested against the curve of her waist like the hands of a lover was soon rolled over her hip bones while she stepped from it, exchanging the garment for those that had been brought out for her and leaving the dress she had been wearing folded a top her heels neatly, on the floor, beside the couch. "I had, mistakenly, in hindsight, been under the impression that I could facilitate a coalition between to of this city's main gangs," the last word feeling foreign on her tongue, leaving an odd taste in her mouth that meant she needed a moment to remember herself before she continued, "They grew violent sooner than expected and I was an obstruction."
It wasn't entirely true, the bullet had infringed on her existence - not the other way around - having ensured that those in question paid for their mistake. She had been establishing a repertoire with the criminals of New York (the more intelligent, at least) who all operated in different areas of crime; the list covered but a modicum of activity as the Enchantress was not willing to associate herself with just anyone. It was not an option for her, to be a jack of all trades and master of none, so instead she had chosen to take the strings of marionettes into delicate hands and become the puppet master.
"It surprises me how readily those of this realm will draw their pistols in an effort to cease conflict," the woman mused, more so to herself than her company, never truly able to be empathetic toward the human plight; arcane arts coming to her with as much ease as breathing did. The angle of her mouth turned lob sided, teeth having snagged the edge of her bottom lip for a mere minute before vocalising the thought that had appeared at the forefront of her mind with the efficiency of an adapt teleporter. "It perhaps is not one of the most captivating stories that I could share; as I believe I told you earlier, I have experienced worse." The smile that followed balanced between a smug self-satisfaction and a warmth the blonde's interactions were usually devoid of, connoting she would elaborate if prompted.
"What of you? Have you garnered any wounds of note in the past? You seem prepared to deal with them, at the very least." A brow lifted in mild curiosity while settling herself into the seat she'd vacated, having presumed Jamie would have been accustomed to (either seeing or procuring) injuries due to his seeming calm when tending to hers.
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