heart of stone.

Despite how nervous she had initially been about her nineteenth birthday party, everything had gone almost exactly according to plan aside from a few minor hiccups. Her grand entrance had been delayed by a half-hour or so, apparently due to a small skirmish that had broken out on the ballroom floor between a couple of drunk patrons, but from there on out, it had been smooth sailing, and Bunny had managed to secure her commencement into New York’s high society scene. It was a whirlwind of expensive gifts, gorgeous dresses, and between the dessert table and the garden petting zoo that her father had arranged solely on her behalf, both Bunny and her dog, Button, were beyond thrilled by the way that things had turned out. She was happier than ever in her gossamer pink gown, the fifty million dollar ring on her finger sparkling every bit as brightly as her beaming grin, and with James at her side even as she began to unwrap presents, she knew that there wasn’t anything in the world that could have made her even happier aside from maybe a kiss from her surly bodyguard whose priority of the night was more catered towards her safety than actually letting himself have a good time. A kiss, perhaps out on the balcony and beneath the stars where they’d both be bathed in moonlight, and… 

She was halfway through thanking her ‘uncle’, Laurent, profusely for the beautiful Balenciaga bag he had surprised her with, when suddenly - a series of noises she had only ever heard in the movies and on television was ringing through the party; loud and terrifying, it sounded alarmingly like gunshots, and instantly the entire ballroom broke out into chaos. There was screaming, then, and a sudden onslaught of people she didn’t recognize storming the party, and Bunny barely had time to let out a frightened exclamation of shock before James was throwing himself on top of her and bringing them both down onto the floor. “J - James,” Bunny breathed out in wide-eyed surprise; her heart was beginning to race worryingly fast, and she let out a scared whimper as she looked up at him desperately for an explanation. What was happening? Had people been hurt? Where was her father - her friend? Button? James promised her that she was okay, but the sound of screaming and gunshots were still going off behind them, and even with the reassuring weight of his body pressed securely on top of her own, the young heiress was still terrified beyond measure. Not for her own safety - she knew that James would take care of her no matter what - but for the people she loved, and of course that included him first and foremost.

Bullets seemed to be banging off of the walls in every direction, but James pulled her upwards onto her feet once more, and it was then that Bunny was able to fully take in the sight of the war-torn ballroom. What had once been a high-end gala had turned into an all-out bloodbath, and she felt her stomach turn at the sight of the crimson-colored spills and reddened footsteps all over the marble floor. She froze for a moment, looking around helplessly for any sign of her friends or family, and it was James who tore her out of her shocked reverie by grabbing onto the back of her dress - the dress she had chosen solely for him - and with Button tucked beneath one of his strong arms and his other hand firmly gripped firmly onto her, he began to rush them out of the hotel ballroom. Once they had made it through the doorway, he handed her poor, terrified corgi, and Bunny fumbled to take his chubby little body into her trembling arms. James reached for a gun of his own, then, and she whimpered once more - she didn’t like this one bit.

He told her no questions, though, and no hesitation, and so Bunny knew that she needed to trust him - even if more screams and gunshots were coming from the ballroom they had just left. This was the sort of thing that he and her father planned for; an emergent last resort that would hopefully never have to come to fruition. But why here? Why now? “Will papa be safe?” It was the one query that she couldn’t keep to herself, and it came out small and panicked, her cerulean-blue eyes looking up to helplessly catch his gaze, pleading and beseeching for the reassurance she so desperately needed. “And - and what about Uncle Laurent? And Alexandra, and Charles, and - and everyone who came here for me tonight. What about them, James?”

He had trained for a moment not exactly like this, but something similar to it in the years he’d spent as Bunny’s bodyguard. James had just hoped--prayed, even--that he would never have to use such strong methods of defense and protection to ensure Bunny was kept safe. His heart was hammering a staccato in his chest, but he force himself to drown out the sounds of people screaming and guns firing mere feet away as he and Bunny barreled through the hallways of the Garden Hotel. If something like the Garden, which was--by all accounts--considered friendly and neutral territory, couldn’t be kept from the clutches of violence in New York City, then was anywhere at all safe for them?

And Howard--Howard was in there. The urge to turn back and find the man was strong, filling James with a sense of guilt that pressed so heavily against his chest that he struggled to breathe, but his boss had been over it with him time and time again in the past. I have my own entourage. Get Bunny out, James, whatever you do. Get Bunny out.

So that was exactly what he was going to do.

He could tell Bunny was terrified--who wouldn’t be? Shit, even he was nearly quaking in his dress shoes at the thought of someone much more powerful and stocked with weapons storming in front of them--but, to her credit, she was handling everything with a great deal more grace than he could have expected someone as young and sheltered as the heiress was. James wanted to wrap her in his embrace and take it all away; the sounds of terror and death that bled through the halls from the blood-stained ballroom, the way bullets and the smashing of weapons and bodies caused vibrations to shake the very root of the world beneath their feet. He turned to glance at her, his curly hair escaping from the bun Bunny had done up for him that evening, as she asked if her father would be alright. He couldn’t guarantee anything--no one really could in this sort of situation--but he didn’t want to terrify her even further. Bunny’s heart was filled to the brim with warmth and love; she was, undoubtedly, the most welcoming person he’d ever met. To think those bastards had used this sort of event for their own power-hungry games? It had him seething with rage. Struggling to find a suitable answer to Bunny’s question, he finally managed to say to her--

“Your father has means to provide for himself. He has his own guards. I have you. None of the socialites here are without their own method of protection, I’d wager--I know you’re worried for them, Bunny, but stay with me, alright?” James belted his gun in its holster, turning to look at her with the face of a warrior; a man on a mission, who knew the precious gem he had to protect. He would go to any lengths to keep Bunny safe, even if it meant forfeiting his own safety in the process. He took her face between his hands, his fingers brushing her cheeks in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture before he kissed her forehead and pulled away. He removed the gun from its holster once more and held it tightly in his grip, leading them through the winding hallways of the Garden as he tried to remember the various exit strategies he’d made mental note of when he and Bunny had been touring this hotel with her father during the party planning stages.

As he rounded the corner, hoping to use one of the back alley exits to take advantage of before the mafias started spilling outside the property and into the streets, he nearly barreled into a rather large man, broad-shouldered and scarred, with a shock of blonde hair. The man wore a dark suit against a stark white dress shirt underneath, already splattered in blood and gore, and his grim, serious features were set into a twisted smile as he took in the sight of Bunny before him.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked, stepping forward and wrenching Bunny into his grasp. James felt his heart stumble and lurch in his chest, something close to a choked sob wrench out of his chest as Bunny was ripped from his grasp and pulled against the man’s chest. He lifted a large, meaty hand and brushed back a lock of her hair, sickeningly gentle against the vice-like grip of his arm locked around her middle.

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you? You and I will have fun together; the Pakhan doesn’t need to know I caught you so soon...” the man growled, and James felt fury burn through him, white hot as he lifted his gun, pulled the safety, and aimed it at the man’s head. “I’ll take care of your little bodyguard first, and then you and I will have some fun together, dollface.”

“Let her go, you fookin’ wankin’ cunt; touch the girl again and I’ll lodge a bullet between your eyes,” James snapped, his Dublin accent on full display as he aimed his gun at the man’s head. He would need a steady aim, or risk hitting Bunny if he had a shaky shot. The man just laughed, clearly over-inflated in his confidence, and pressed Bunny even tighter against him, his hand jerking her face towards him with an effort that made James’ insides twist. With a growl, James’ eyes shuttered and he glared at the man, his fury igniting like a flint in his abdomen as he tried to configure a way to shoot without harming Bunny. He stalked forward, lifting the gun as the man’s face sobered up, and the words were vitriol spitting from his mouth. 

“I said don’t. touch. the. fookin’. girl.” James was fire, the man before him ice, and as he flicked open a blade he’d hidden in the cuff of his shirt and was lifting it to press against Bunny’s throat, James aimed and squeezed the trigger.

Right between the bastard’s eyes.

None of this was supposed to happen. He had gone over the plans with Howard dozens of times; security was tight. People were meant to be checked at the door--each and every time they left the main party room. No one was meant to get in or out of Bunny’s birthday gala without being determined innocent enough for the party in the first place. Still, James had hovered over her shoulder for the entire evening, more a shadow than a date as he scanned for any visible threats to her safety. She was his to swear his life by and protect, and though those words had taken on a different meaning to him in the last year, James still swore he wouldn’t let Howard down. Wouldn’t let Bunny down.

She had been in the middle of unwrapping the gifts guests had left for her, glitter-and-shiny wrapping paper strewn about her in a shimmering pool of light as she went about unwrapping a gift from Laurent Brodaire. Her treasured dog, Button, yipped happily at her heels and played in the wrapping paper she tossed at her feet with each shredding of a new present. A bright pink bag emerged from the corner of his vision, and then--the sound of popping. Screaming. An alarm sounded; intruders in the Golightly gala. And then--and then--the mob came out of the shadows like woodwork. Or, well, mobs, he supposed he should say, for no sooner had the intrusion been announced than dozens of men and women were pulling weapons from places hidden among their costumes, screaming and turning them on each other.

Immediately, James felt himself act on impulse. It was no longer a matter of him and her, but simply her. He dove for Bunny, covering his body with her own as they went sliding to the floor and the first round of gunshots exploded around the Garden Hotel’s ballroom. He glanced around, the gunfire ringing in his ears as he tried to determine a safety exit. He would sacrifice everything--sacrifice himself and everything he was--to keep Bunny safe tonight. The thought of losing her--no, he couldn’t bear it. He wouldn’t bear it.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he murmured in a desperate effort to keep Bunny calm, hoping that the weight of his body on top of hers would keep the young woman from having a panic attack in the middle of a surprise shoot-out. There--just there. The corner of the room that led into the depths of the hotel; he’d toured it with Howard earlier, and as he tried to remember the way the hallways curved and veered off, he realized it was their only chance for safety. So, after determining that the guns were ricocheting off the walls around them and not by them, James stood up, scooping Button up under one arm and grabbing Bunny by the back of her exquisite, impossibly expensive dress, forcing her in front of him as he pushed them through the room.

“Keep moving forward; I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered in her ear, his voice breathless as he pushed them through the doorway, the dog quivering under his arm. He handed her Button, assessing her for any injuries once he’d made his way to the hallway. He reached in the waistband of his trousers, pulling out the small handgun Howard had gifted him with for emergency purposes tonight. “Are you alright? Stay with me, Bunny--do everything I tell you to, alright? No questions, no hesitation.”

“I’m not sure.”  Bohai took a bite of it. After a few seconds of chewing and thinking he was able to answer.  “I think it’s some kind of cheese and figs. It’s very good though. They definitely don’t have this in the bakery by my place.” 

He held another one up to the man. “It will change your life man, try it.” 

"The Golightlys pulled out all the stops for this kind of event,” James answered honestly with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He wasn’t a man of particularly fine tastes himself--some cheese was better than others, sure, but cheese was still cheese at the end of the day--but could appreciate the amount of effort that had gone into this evening’s catering.

Hesitantly, he took the food from the stranger and took a bite, his face lighting with surprised delight.

“Damn,” he said, licking his lips and finishing the food he’d popped into his mouth. “Do rich people just get food grown with steroids or something?”

@jamesvbeircheart·

Gordon Golightly did not throw parties half-heartedly, if his foster daughter’s gala was anything to go by. He could see the Golightly heiress now, bedecked in the sort of jewelery that likely had the other mafias salivating over in quiet envy, a welsh corgi chasing after the trail of her dress. A full orchestra played creative renditions of popular songs, while servers scrambled to refill the quickly-depleting dessert table. Money was thrown carelessly into an event of such magnitude that it seemed difficult to believe the evening had gone so far without any sign of a potential incident. Viktor did not need to know high society well to understand that vultures were flocking the room, waiting and watching for the moment to swoop in and take their piece of the Golightly fortune.

Viktor, however, was not among them. No, he was here to make alliances, and to meet people who would be of use to him in the coming conflicts among the mafias of New York City. Anything he needed to bring some semblance of peace back to the Bratva. Even if it meant enduring an evening of weak drinks and excessively long conversations.

He was taking a small breather from his networking, watching as the heiress and her dog passed him by towards the petting zoo. But his attention left her in favour of the man shadowing her, with a scar so distinct that Viktor did not need to guess what his profession was. “I can’t imagine it would be easy, guarding Miss.Golightly on a night like this, yes?” He called out, watching him with some measure of interest, just to see if he was right. “I think you may have lost out to the alpacas tonight, I’m afraid. It seems she’s enamoured with them.”

James was her date, but he felt more like her shadow. Not that it was Bunny’s fault, of course; she had simply asked him to be her date because it made sense, he was sure, and nothing more. But it didn’t stop the way eyes trailed over him, as though assessing the worth of his person, before snagging on Bunny and talking about upcoming galas and social events she simply had to attend. Bunny was the showpiece for the evening, but James was treated with as little importance as the dog that played so happily at her heels.

As they weaved through the ball, Bunny being stopped intermittently to speak with the guests who had gotten dolled up and attended the party for the purpose of celebrating her life, James kept a constant surveillance on those who approached the young heiress. Anyone could pose a threat at any moment, and though he didn’t want to use the gun Howard had equipped him with, he would if it came down to it. He would do anything, truth be told, if it meant protecting Bunny Golightly.

Perhaps even above and beyond that of his job description.

“Is that meant to be a statement regarding my job efficiency, or something else entirely?” James asked, blinking and glancing sidelong at the dark-haired man who approached him. James couldn’t say he recognized the man immediately but, then again, Howard knew many powerful people. New York’s social elite was a far bigger circle than he had originally believed it to be. He glanced back at Bunny, who seemed enamored with the entire idea of the petting zoo, before eyeing the stranger warily once more. “I think the alpacas would beat out most any of the guests here tonight, truth be told. I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met, Mr...?”

@jamesvbeircheart

Bohai was having a great time at the party. Everyone seemed to be there, even if they didn’t get an invitation. Bo had never been to a party this extravagant before. He felt like everyone knew that he didn’t belong, but that didn’t stop him. He was helping himself to drinks and to food as he went around the party. 

“Have you tried these yet?” He asked a stranger as he held up some kind of pastry. “They are amazing.”

James was happy for Bunny--truly, he was--but with the increase in crime in New York City and the entire place still being relatively unfamiliar to the Golightly heiress, James was more apprehensive about the event than anything else. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, try as he might, though Howard had assured him it was likely nerves. Presently, Howard was taking Bunny around and introducing her to some of his friends from work; James hung back, hesitant and anxious as his eyes followed her around the room, until the voice of someone nearby dragged him from his thoughts.

“What?” he repeated, blinking twice and glancing at a man holding up a pastry. “I--can’t say I have, sorry. What kind are they?”

JAMES BEIRCHEART ☾ GOLIGHTLY GALA

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle at the stranger’s remark, glad that he had at least given some thought of entertaining him with this silly scenario he constructed. While he had no authority to what the couple was really like, it was nice for a moment to imagine what they could have had. What their dynamic was and what things in their relationship led them to that very moment. Where the blistering sun had melted the ice cream faster than they could consume it and how it didn’t matter because they were together.

He shook his head, “no, no. Not a behavioral analysts never even studied psychology,” he paused before drawing a sharp breath in. “But I’ve been him before,” he admitted candidly nodding his head back over to the man who had been doting over his girlfriend. “Hopelessly in love with a girl twenty thousand lightyears out of my league,” he clarified before clearing his throat. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve been in that exact scenario, knowing that I had ice cream all over my hands but not caring because she had this beautiful beaming smile and was having the time of her life,” he mused for a moment before looking back over to the man on the bench.

“Call me a sucker for romance, but I hope they work out,” he glanced back over at them, the man finally realizing his ice cream had been melting all over and the girlfriend’s smile never faltering for a moment as she watched him scramble to clean up the mess he made. “It’s kind of hard to see it when you’re in it, you know?” He started back up again, not even entirely sure why he had decided to open up to this random guy sitting on a bench in Central Park. Maybe it was because he had no connection to him that his feelings were just pouring out. “It feels nearly impossible to gage what she’s feeling. But when you’re sitting on the outside looking in, you get to catch all of the stolen glances you have no idea are there and it gives you just that little bit of hope.” Peter shrugged before tapping his fingers lightly against his thigh. “But maybe I’m wrong entirely.”

That was the beautiful thing about New York City; you never knew who--or what, for that matter--you were going to run into. He’d managed to waste part of his day meandering about Central Park and other areas nearby, and now, as desperate as he was to go home and spend time with the closest thing to a family he’d had since moving to America, he found that his pensive solitude had been interrupted by a rather strange young man. A people-watcher, who seemed full of animation and creativity as he designed little lives for the people who milled about the park.

“Seems like you take the entire thing pretty personally, kid,” James lamented, his accent slipping through as he gazed at the young man out of the corner of his eyes. He seemed lost in thought, as though remembering a specific memory or girl he had been with. Strangely enough, James felt his own thoughts wandering back towards Bunny again; he could remember taking her on strolls through the gardens of her father’s estate when she was little, promising to show her buttercups and tulips and honeysuckle as they ran through the lush Golightly grounds. It wasn’t the same thing as taking a date through Central Park with sticky, dripping ice cream, but it was memory that tugged at something deep in his heart. So perhaps he couldn’t relate, not quite, but he still felt...something.

“Maybe so, but I don’t often find myself watching people live out their lives before me; find it a bit unsettling, the way Americans are always so involved in each other’s lives,” James amended finally, leaning back against the bench and curling one arm over the back of the bench. He wondered what the couple would say if they happened to look over and see two blokes staring them down from underneath the shade of a large tree. If this was Dublin, probably an “Oi, mate, who the fuck you lookin’ at?” and an offer to take things outside. In America, though, everything was different. It was enough to make his head spin, even after the years he’d spent in this country. He glanced at the young man again, studying him for a moment before deigning to speak. “You sound like someone projectin’ his own feelings onto the people around him. Someone got you lovesick, kid?”

Kat nodded, “I dabble in fiction occasionally, but I like biographies the best.” She smiled at him and shook his head before releasing it, “same really, I just clearly found myself in the wrong arena and now I have been outed for seeking erotica.” She chuckled, “it hasn’t gone well for either of us, apparently.”

"Anyone in particular you find yourself interested in reading about?” James asked with a tilt of his head, turning back to the bargain books and flipping through them. He could have sworn he had seen a ridiculous memoir or something stuffed between the mystery and romance. “Me? I’d rather go out and live my own life than read about someone else’s, but that’s just my personal take on the matter.”

“That it is. I often say culture comes here to die, which is ironic since this is also the theatre district.” She said with a laugh. “Yes. Musicals are singing and talking, plays are just talking, and operas are just singing.” She confirmed. “Yes. Like here. Actually over at the former Studio 54. It’s a theater these days. Cabaret.”

"Is that a common sentiment, what you’re expressing?” he asked, finding himself intrigued by the conversation. He’d seen and heard a few musicals and plays in his life, but nothing he felt passionately enough about to venture into this district when he’d been to the city. Bunny, on the other hand--she’d love all of this. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this part of town; regular theater enthusiast, or do you work in one of these buildings?” he gestured around.

anonymously or not, tell me who you ship me with

"Oh! The theatre girl! Interesting pick.”

( @natbardot ) 

anonymously or not, tell me who you ship me with

“The girl I met in the bookshop, right? The one who thinks mystery novels are erotica? Interesting.”

anonymously or not, tell me who you ship me with

"Well that’s--oh. Right. She’s--definitely not into me like that, yeah? I’m just a poor kid from Dublin; she’s an heiress. I’ve only ever been something like an older brother to her. At best, even.”

( @bunnyxgolightly )

James’ approval really did mean the world to her. He had been a part of her life for so long now, ever since she had first been adopted by the Golightlys so many years ago, and throughout the time he had spent by her side as her bodyguard…her feelings for him had only grown and blossomed until Bunny knew with the utmost certainty that she was in love. It wasn’t something she had been able to tell him just yet, of course, but with her nineteenth birthday finally arising on the horizon, she was hopeful that she would be able to find the courage to reveal to him how she felt, even if it meant potentially ruining the close and intimate relationship that they already shared. For now, though, she relished in the moments like this - James calling her his asthore as he reassured her that she would look fine no matter what she chose to wear. Bunny gave him a sheepish little smile, then, as he rose from his perch on the armchair and made his way towards her; as per usual, she was making a big deal out of nothing, and yet James still wasn’t complaining in the slightest. How did he always manage to be so good to her?

“I might have to wear a paper bag if I can’t decide on a dress,” she said with a little huff and a pout of her rosy lips, and she was fully prepared to insist that he hold onto the glittering gown he was inspecting as she dove headfirst into her closet in search of something else, but then James was - reaching for a pair of equally-sparkly heels from her shoe collection, and Bunny’s young, sweet little face brightened as she took in the sight of them. “Oh! James! This could work - really well, actually!” she chirped happily then, gingerly setting the gown down across the back of the nearest chair so that she could take the Miu Miu heels from his grip, daintily turning them over in her small hands with a beaming little grin. “These are the ones that daddy had custom-made for me earlier this year, remember? They have, erm - “ Carefully, she exposed the underside of the clearly expensive high-heel, looking up at James bashfully as the bunny-shaped insignia on the bottom of said heel came into view. “It’s…fitting, right?” 

Relieved that she had finally managed to put together an outfit - with James’ help, of course - she set the heels down alongside the dress before turning back to look at her bodyguard with an appreciative smile, clasping her tiny hands together gratefully in front of her. “Now we just have to get you fitted for a suit to match! I’m thinking something…a little silvery, and very sleek. Light grey, with a silk tie? And - “ She couldn’t help herself, and she walked towards him, tentatively reaching up to play with his full beard that she loved so much; no matter what her father said, she refused to let him tell James to so much as trim it. “- you should keep your hair down, not tied back in a bun. I like when it’s curly and loose.”

"Let’s not get so dramatic, Buns, you know your father would never allow you to show up to a social function in nothing but a paper bag,” James said with a good-natured laugh. She tended to over-worry about what others thought of her; perhaps it was her age, perhaps it was the insecurities that came with being so sheltered and guarded from the rest of the world. James wished, almost desperately, that there was a way to convince Bunny that she was more than enough--and not just for him, but for the world. He tried to tell himself it was just the sensation of protectiveness and love he’d felt for her since she’d been younger; that he was extraordinarily invested in her happiness because he viewed her as a little sister. James continued to try and convince himself that his thoughts and feelings towards Bunny were pure, but with each aching moment he spent in her presence, it was growing increasingly difficult. 

How was he supposed to think, when his heart felt so full? How was he supposed to breathe, when the mere touch of her hand against his own sent a riot of shivers and confusing thoughts tearing through his body?

He felt a grin light up his face as she exclaimed that the shoes would be fitting for the rest of the outfit. He allowed her to take the glittery shoes from his hands and watched as she draped her current dress of choice over the back of a chair, carefully examining the shoes with a sweet, soft reverence painted across her delicate features. James tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, blinking and furrowing his brows in an attempt to focus on what Bunny was explaining to him. Something about custom-made shoes and bunny insignia on the bottom of her heels. He tried to understand the significance and how much it must have cost her father, but when it came to high fashion and trends, he had to admit...he was a little lost more often than not.

“Very fitting, you might as well have the outline of bunny ears stamped and stitched onto everything you own,” he managed at last with a grand wave around her extravagant closet.

“Wait, a suit for me? I can’t just wear, like, the basic black one your father bought for me for your birthday last year?” James asked with a furrow of his brows. The moment she mentioned a silvery and sleek suit, the color drained from his face. He stepped closer to her, glancing at the glittering shoes she had selected and the equally shimmery dress, and then back at her, his eyes narrowing slightly in mistrust.

“You aren’t going to put me in one of those chrome suits, are you?” he asked slowly with a cock of one brow. He could just picture it now--ridiculous, gaudy, and completely over the top. James didn’t enjoy standing out; not among the wealthy and elite who would likely scoff and spit on him if they’d be given the chance. He lifted a hand to his hair, tied back in a bun, and patted his curls slightly before glancing down at her, unable to help the smile that flitted across his features. He leaned into her touch as she caressed his beard, ricochets of yearning erupting down the base of his spine. “You like the hair? Most people tell me the curls are unprofessional; I try to hide them at social functions so I don’t embarrass you and your father.”

Kat giggled and shrugged, “I tend to like the biographies.” She shrugged, “reading about other people’s failures and successes.” She smiled at him, “Katherine, Kat Moore to most.” She smiled holding out a hand for him to shake, “if I’m being quite honest I don’t find myself here very often but I figured I could find something here to occupy some of my time.” 

"More of a nonfiction lass yourself, then?” James managed with a quip of his brows and a quirk of his lips. He inclined his head towards her as she introduced herself, reaching out to shake her hand in kind. “Well, Katherine-Kat-Moore, that makes two of us. I had an afternoon off and decided to seek out a book on a whim. Hasn’t gone too well for me, has it?”

“Ah, this part of the city? You feel it’s a cesspool then?” She teased with a grin. “You should give it a shot, you might find you love it.” She offered up, folding her arms against her chest. “Actually they’re musicals. Musicals have always been my favorite. I’m actually in one right now.”

“Well, bit of a tourist trap, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing around him. Times Square, Broadway, Central Park, the Statue of Liberty; true, he wasn’t a native, but even being around the sheer amount of vacationers was enough to turn him off from venturing down these streets. “There’s a different? Right. The singing.” He paused, glancing the girl up and down before gesturing around them. “Like here? On one of these stages?”

“A daddy, a god, you know. Whatever she’s feeling when she goes over the edge, aye?”