♛ BAD LUCK.

      It wouldn’t be wrong to say Remy was at least surprised at the sudden familiar voice– he was usually so in tune with everything around him that only a select few really snuck up on him– and well. Felicia was one of them. “Well I’ll be, looks like some kitty got lost.” One brow raises somewhat, his head whipping around to face her when he feels the tug on his jacket. Of all things to be inspecting, his coat? He thought it was a fine thing, despite what others might say, and it was beneficial for someone chill sensitive like himself. “Long time no see, cherie, you should know my face always keeps it’s best look, especially since a fine lady like you could be anywhere.”

      “Mighty fine t’see you here.” The space was good, despite him easily falling into a familiarity with the other thief, despite her teasing. She was the third familiar face he’s seen thus far, and honestly he was relieved somewhat. He is, of course, not feeling too himself, but the drain on his powers probably had something to do with that. His expression turned slightly serious, gaze turning down as he crossed his arms, “Hard findin’ a good gig— ‘er at least figurin’ out where the good money is.” He had been in quite the conflict over what to do here, anyway, “I ain’t been here long, unfortunately— or maybe fortunately, but…” Red eyes were still as serious as ever as he turned his head back to look her over, locking their gazes, “Lil’ over a month. Finally have some access t’things— but…” He couldn’t keep serious for too long, despite his paranoia, giving her a crooked grin, “Shame hearin’ that my handle on things left ya heartbroken. Can’t be doin’ that t’a pretty lady. Less she here t’try and make competition.”

“Don’t make such a long face, handsome.” She pouts, eyes narrowing with a smirk as she laughed in continuation. “I might just kiss it to make it better if you keep that up.” But she lets her response end there, if only because she wants to listen - and how often do bad girls listen to others? Not often enough. “Well it’d be bad for business if two thieves are out of their element, and as much as it hurts, it’s a no. No competition yet.” She smiles now, index finger carefully twirling white strands around it with a huff. “I’m not at my best so it wouldn’t be fair to play that way.” She can feel the shift in his own tone as much as it was mimicked in her own, in the way his voice dipped in disappointment at her tease over the lack of gifts. A month in and he’s lost some of his shine. It kind of hurts, but she won’t admit that. It wouldn’t do either of them much good to mourn something so temporary.

"Haven’t we met before?” Index finger is carefully placed against red lips as she pondered, gaze all too intense as she scrutinized every part of the person before her. She ignores the cheesy bar pick up line she rung off with, but then it clicks like the pressing of the power button on a remote: TV. She laughs with the realization and leans in, her focus softening with the wide array of quips she can’t wait to dish out. It’s all about timing though, right? “You’re famous, and just walking through these streets like it doesn’t mean a thing.”

It wouldn’t be the same if she didn’t see him, but there’s little joy to be had in seeing red and blue right now. Nothing’s been stolen, there’s no chase to be had, there’s no fun in this meeting. It’s simple, but they haven’t shared a simple moment in quite some time. “You can’t put me behind bars now.” Not yet. “Sorry to disappoint you and your sixth sense, but I haven’t stolen a thing.”

“Certainly not the spider I was looking for, but I won’t complain.” A spider’s still a spider, even if this one in particular can’t shoot webs. She’s sure the recognition is mutual, so she saves the could-be hostile tone for someone more deserving. Perhaps less? Who knows. “You don’t have that ‘where the hell am I’ look about you.” But then, when did Natasha ever? “So let me guess!”

There’s a sense of relief that washes over her at the sight of a familiar trench coat, though her mouth’s itching to ask if it’s seen the inside of a washer recently. She refrains, opting instead to close the distance between the two of them in silence until he ends up within arm’s reach. “Not living up to your reputation too well out here, Lebeau? How unfortunate.” Her hand stretches out to grip at the end of his coat, eyes narrowing on brown to look for any tattered ends. Too close, but she knows better than to expect him to lash out violently. Not towards her, anyway. “The damages aren’t bad, but...” She pauses, weaving around to the front of him to cup at a scruffy face with a wide smile. “At least your face is still in one very fine piece.” 

"Now that’s a catsuit.” She purrs and the laugh that follows is unlike her, but she lets it come and go with ease. She needs to find some amusement in this place, and a joke is always a good way to start something new. “Color me surprised. No cleavage to flaunt off? It really helps with the distracting bit of this job if you get caught.” She’s going by assumptions, unfortunately, and not very good ones. All black didn’t always equate to robbers, but thieves had a fashionable reputation to live up to, didn’t they?

“So the Tinkerer’s playing dress up with kids now?” She’s thinking out loud, though she pays little mind to the volume of her voice and the question that flows out in it. The outfit’s on par with something a masked vigilante would wear, yet Felicia sees no mask. Brave, but stupid to some degree. “Don’t know if you fight crime or advocate for it, but that design is something I can get behind - or in, if you’re willing to get out of it.”

"Boooring." Her voice is booming with the singsong energy of a disney princess that only now woke up, but her expression says otherwise. Her brows are furrowed, lips pursed in contemplation at the information she’d just been told upon her arrival. The confusion isn’t settling in, she won’t allow it, but the irritation with the loss of knowledge of who, and where, to steal from was what really got under her skin. What was the world's greatest cat burglar without a place to rob? Nobody, which is probably what that scientist was hinting at. The nerve.