stickaneedle is just generally offensive to her sensibilities.
    [ Heâs watching his target, she thinks, but sheâs busied herself watching him. For almost an hour now, attracted like a moth to the light by the familiar little tics and twitches of his body language. Sheâs sat, always in the distance, always in the shadows, and watched his every little movement.Â
            Heâs not her father, but thatâs fine. Many people are not her father, thatâs how the world works, but this man is too similar to her father for comfort. An imposter. Like that fairy tale Dick had told her with the wolf hidden in sheepâs skin. Â
  In Gotham one should always keep an eye on the shadows should they come to get you, and she is the shadow.Â
      The most efficient action is typically the best one. So, naturally, the first thing Cassandra does is jam the chamber of his gun. Itâs quick, silent, and almost unnoticeable, the way the long rod metal rod slides into the barrel. The solution is a simple, elegant, relatively pacifistic one, she thinks. If he chooses to try to fire his weapon, to try to kill, itâll blow up in his face. Literally.
                 Itâs justice. ]
     [ Which is why there is no real need to make her way away to his hiding spot, the edge closer to study the man even more, to study what about him rubs her so wrong. Emotions donât come as easily to her as fighting, she has to mull them over in her head, analyze it, before she can understand them.Â
           She doesnât do this with Thomas Elliot though, no, the closer she gets to him the more her stomach pits. So sheâll pass with the emotional analysis and go with her gut.
     Sheâll cast a razor sharp batarang out of the shadows and at his trigger hand instead. ]Â
