#* misty.

   “am i right in assuming that us meeting here isn’t a coincidence,  ms. page?”  misty believes--knows--that journalists are freedom fighters.  she knows it,  but her own experience with reporters,  especially after midland circle,  has not been entirely pleasant.   now that she’s a sergeant,  she sees the ugliness of a sensationalist press more.  but,  from her own minimal knowledge of karen page -- she doesn’t forget her,  or anything for that matter -- she wants to trust her.  she wants to believe she can trust her,  that she isn’t hungry simply for a good story. 

wanting isn’t the same thing as doing,  and she’s rightfully wary.  they both stand waiting for their coffees at a bodega converted to a starbucks in washington heights,  misty off-duty for the first time in what feels like an eternity.  she supposes this is what she gets for venturing out of the 29th precinct. 

“afraid i’m not on the job,”  misty remarks dryly,  retrieving her coffee.  “but you certainly look like you’re on duty.”

   ‘ luke told me you went to cuba. ’   she’s busy, these days.  when she’s not behind her desk as a sergeant, she’s on the field  --  when she’s not on the field,  she’s frequenting harlem’s paradise or she’s training.  she doesn’t know what she’s training for  --  there’s the possibility of luke doing something stupid (likely) and there’s the possibility of harlem crumbling to the ground (more likely), and in either case, the borough needs a hero.  the people need a hero.  misty doesn’t know if that’s her, but she’s willing to do anything to protect the safety and integrity of those around her.  

she bounces the ball between her hand of flesh and of metal,  the bionic whirring softly with the fluid motion.  claire’s return,  while sudden,  seems like too perfect a coincidence.  misty knight may be good,  maybe,  but it doesn’t make her warm in any form  --  still,  though,  she offers  smile at claire’s presence (it’s the warmest as she can get,  claire,  really) and sets the ball under her arm as she approaches her.  

‘ you’re back from vacation pretty early. ’  a beat,  as her gaze meets claire’s.  ‘ it’s good to see you, claire.  i mean that.  the world went crazy without you here,  i swear. ’