💛 lorna & daisy
💛 for jessica’s honest opinion of:
@polcris @dqisyjohnsons
lorna:
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jessica snapped at the open folder. Lorna’s picture, her green goddamn hair, sits on the very top, staring at her.
Jessica pushes back from her desk with a huff, grabs the mostly empty bottle of whiskey and drains the minuscule amount left. She tosses it aside, then leans on the desk, her hands framing Lorna’s face.
“I’m trying for you,” she mutters to the photograph. “I don’t goddamn know why.” She bits her lip, reopens the cut Snart’s uppercut left. “Maybe because of that goddamn look in your eye. You look so fucking lost,” she breathes, swiping away a droplet of blood that falls onto the picture. “You were a total goddamn brat when I met you, you know that? But I’m still helping you. Because you need someone to.” Jessica was a poor excuse, but she wasn’t going to give up either. “Honestly?” she says to the picture. “You deserve better. Better than this shit hand life has given you.”
She sighs, then sits back down and goes back to her research.
daisy:
Now that she has a name -- a goddamn superhero name, though it’s not the worst she’s ever heard -- she can find out a lot more about Daisy. Combs through article after article about a mysterious vigilante named ‘Quake.’
It’s almost hard to match up what she reads with what she knows already. Daisy has always struck her as quirky more than quake-y. Cute. Quick-witted. A damn good tease. But there’s a darkness in the woman, too, something that sends a chill through Jessica’s veins. A power.
She’s just glad to be on her good side. And if she’s being honest, she’s a little bit jealous. She wants to have that same self-control, that same practiced technique that Daisy used on the punching bag, apparently used on all those people she took out as a vigilante.
She might not call herself a hero, but Jessica can’t think of a better word for it.