Who: James & Shane. What: A little chit chat. Where: Stairwell. When: Couple of days after the blackout? Warnings: A little cursing for James, like always.
The wind was fierce enough to whip the flesh from one's bones by the time the sunflower taxi bounced two tires up on the curb and rescued the tangle-haloed brunette from her songbird perch on the back of the bus bench. And although the haute-blooded hellcat should have seemed downtrodden or discouraged because the pounding elements, she was sporting a flowerchild's grin when she slid into the backseat. After all, she was off of work.. and that was nothing but a mile long list of reasons to smile.
"Where to?" The driver peeled away from the swampy, polluted corner while he started his cruise down the street.. lifting his jaundiced eyes for a squint at her in the rearview. She gave him the address and the man went more than a little wide-eyed when James shucked the camel canvas of her trench coat, revealing a scant amount of fishnet and vinyl. Clipped stockings, stark suspenders, and a pair of shorts that amounted to almost nothing. It was a real fucking festive get-up.
"Damn, did you just come from a costume party?" He asked in alarm, watching starved when she crossed her knee lazily.
James just smiled. "Yeah, something like that.."
Fifteen minutes later and the cab was crashing to a halt before Bellum Letale. Cash was tossed at the driver with a muttered thanks before she braved the elements. Tightening her coat and hustling through the lobby on a pair of black vinyl boots that climbed so high on those thighs they should have had to of paid a toll. The stairwell seemed quiet and lonely when she graced it. But James knew all about illusions.