#filed: ic

[kataireo]

@spirestar asked; you ask good questions. ( from frank! )

It's golden hour, and the light is waning fast. She's on her way home, hot off the subway and just about to walk into the closest bodega when a comment catches her off guard. The man outside has his face obscured with a newspaper — an old one. Karen knows that voice. Teeth clamp the inside of her cheek in her attempt to not grin. "Yeah, well, asking good questions is my job."

Minding other people's business is a sport to her. She was clever and nosey long before the Bulletin or investigating for the firm, it's true, but she's well aware chance and unique circumstances got her those jobs more than anything else. Competency just let her thrive at them. Between the amused expression and her lack of formal schooling, information she's sure she divulged in one of their many meetings during his trial, it's clear she's just giving him shit.

With Frank it's a little harder to mind his business. She still manages, here and there, just seldom directly. His coming and going should probably piss her off more. In the moment, she's usually too relieved by the proof of life to be thoroughly prickly toward him ... he still gets a jab or two, though. "If you're here to ask for a favor, you better buy my dinner first. Compliments aren't gonna cut it."

[horrorivings]

new muses in the works

[kataireo]

@martyrdiaboli / cont.

Karen finds the city that never sleeps to be an apt moniker, for the most part, but there is a comparatively still quality to the wee hours of the morning. That quasi-stillness seems to suit the faint sadness of Matt's tone, and she chuckles softly. 'Can you?' she begins to ask — but thinks better of it, given his sullen mood. "How many times have I said the same thing to you?"

Her words are characterized by the telltale vocal fry of a person who recently woke up ; there's no hiding she had stirred from sleep just to lend a hand. Go figure, the one night she actually puts herself to bed at a respectable hour ... but that's what friends are for, and she's right where she wants to be. "Better here and not needed than needed and not here." Another dab of the dishrag, and she's nearly done. "You hungry? There's eggs in the fridge... kinda feel like I could go for an omelet."

[kataireo]

📚 for @playmath ; seconds by bryan lee o'malley

"Check your email once in a while, dude."

[kataireo]

📚 for @castlle ; the dead won't die by joe mckinney

"The thing with you is that you look at every problem you see like it's a nail, and you've got the world's only hammer."

[kataireo]

@h0lidaykill asked; you could be famous. you could do anything you want.

It's hard to say why a statement she doesn't agree with even remotely splits Karen's mouth into such a smile. Maybe because it's unexpected, has her tucking chin to chest trying to play it off as just focusing on the Moleskine in her lap. Maybe it's just nice to be regarded in such a positive light, to be thought of as so ... capable.

"You talkin' to yourself?" Deflection is easier. Pencil scratching at paper, she sneaks another glance Gilda's way for the sake of continuing her drawing — a quick portrait of the woman across from her. If asked, Karen would call herself out of practice. She's always been her worst critic. The reality is she just doesn't make time for art anymore ; she has a hard time feeling like it's worth it. But if it can double as a social call, maybe even an informal interview should any pressing topics come up, she can live with that.

"I get plenty of flak for the things I print in the paper, that's famous enough for me." The adrenaline junkie in her does harbor a secret satisfaction at being infamous amongst crooks, though she's loathe to admit it. "And right now, all I want is to finish this sketch and have a good conversation. So that's what I'm gonna do. What do you feel like doing?"

[kataireo]

@spirestar asked; ❝ i don't want an apology i just want to understand! ... okay, and maybe an apology wouldn't hurt either. ❞ ( from foggy! slightly edited the prompt hehe )

Wrinkles crease her forehead in the wake of raised brows, and her eyes are about twice their usual size. Foggy doesn't draw her ire the way a number of other friends in her life are wont to do, but a little overly-defensive quibbling is well within their purview. One might think she'd been caught risking life and limb again, with the immediacy of her reaction.

"I needed information, and I had the chance to get it! So yes, I... I traded the office espresso machine." Karen shrugs, the gesture theatrical enough that when her hands drop they thump audibly against her legs. "I know it wasn't really mine to give away, I'm sorry, but c'mon Foggy. We're drip coffee people. Honestly, I feel like it was a win-win."

Relatively inconsequential as it may be, she remains bull-headed as ever. To her credit, though, she offers the other a small consolatory smile — sorry only to have potentially earned his disapproval, not for the offending act itself.

[kataireo]

@devilletting asked; i need you to stop throwing yourself into harm's way.

The look in her eye might level him, if only he could see it. Sure, he has other ways of picking up on her irritation, but Karen has always said so much with just her eyes. Maybe that's for the best ; it's harsher than she means to give, anyway. She isn't irritated in earnest, not in a way that will last. It's just, well ... there's a saying about people in glass houses.

"That's a pretty tall order," she says instead. Her fingers brush asphalt out of the road rash on her knee while she considers what words they'll be typing once she reaches a keyboard. She'd tripped running to her car, and her hair is a little disheveled — she remains otherwise unscathed.

"I'm only good at two jobs, Matt. Both piss people off when I do 'em right." Karen's loath to be told what to do. ( It's nice to feel cared about. )

"Guess I could quit, if you really insist... but you're gonna have to pay my rent." She can't help herself but to joke, lips curling into a small smile.