Early morning velvet interspersed with diamonds. The city wore a powdered shawl across her sleek shoulders in what was the first snowfall of late-November, 𐚁.

"Yeah? You countin' the minutes, honey?" quips Jesse, steadfast in his lean against the rooftop generator, denim haunches postured in accordance to his usual nonchalance largely unfazed by the restless and biting wind. He likes the way it burns his skin and nips at the nape of his russet neck like an impatient lover. There's a blanket of nacreous snow at his boot heels and an active light that wags at his furred lip.

"I come all this way an' you ain't even gon' take that mask off? Even dogs don't work for free, honey! The rest of that leather git-up, though... [whistle] You can keep that on."

spiders weren't any different. solitary especially when it came to hunting, but this wasn't any ordinary pursuit. their prey, no simple mountains of goods and riches that were better suited for more deserving hands. exactly what seemed to place a wedge in their plan, a reminder as to why he needn't fall for her wit every time she offered. agreement on which hands were in fact, deserving were on opposite ends. peter wished to transport their findings to those who needed them the most; felicia wanted to keep and was a difficult nut to crack when it came to releasing her claws. his arm kept it's extension, elbow locked tight to keep her wrist where he wanted it. the half mask he wore bunched at one side, maw underneath shifting upwards to one side.

" what look? " muffled, eyes narrowed as he tried to ignore the icicle up his spine. the look of disappointment? closing in of the pupils at the realization she'd done it yet again? well. yes. perhaps it was that look.

her initial approach was unlikely, these days. unaccustomed to the local pub scene, with previous favor resting in the reality of nursing a brown bag-concealed can in an empty park alongside friends. with them all gone, living life and other shenanigans, blue had no choice but to branch out. it wasn't much of a stretch, already meeting the gazes of familiar faces, the likeness of those passed by in the halls at mountain view, some neighbors and clients of her aunts — those sorts. but, she'd never felt the call to engage, not much past pleasantries, instead, adhering to the exposed brick of its walls, nodding along to the night's lineup until walking home sounded like a much better prospect. rinse and repeat.

enter lucy gray... colorful, sweeping fabrics enough to stick out amongst the earth tones of henrietta's population, and a voice with just as much of a punch, the type of sound whose edge cut clean through a fit of compressed bodies, all enraptured even in varying states of drunken stupor. to say that blue was rapt with a buzz not only provided by a heavily-poured drink would severely underwrite the excitement that billowed in her gut. the entire crowd, too, with a cacophony of whoops and hollers, ninety percent of which were provided by blue herself, echoing amongst the bar walls. her inevitable approach was far less than subtle — maybe rude, too, if all the performer wished for was a strong drink and a shot of solitude — weaving through the masses with an ease only afforded by a one-track mind such as her own.

" you did well, " said as a matter of fact, the blank stare of a coach, a mentor zeroing in on execution and completion. in reality, it was simply blue, veering towards the air of coolness so much that it ventured far into apathy. she didn't want to be too much, too overbearing, not yet. sensibility doesn't scare others away, not those with stakes involved.