Re: Cat and Jack
She quirked a brow when he said it was experience talking, his knowledge of being fought over. There was a story there, surely, and it was a night for stories. Oh, she knew he was adverse to them, to stories, but the quirk of her brow was a wordless request all the same. After all, she had come here, attended, hadn't she? It was the least he could do.
Cat loved risk and chance, but not the kind that came with a kiss and toss of the dice. No, that wasn't real risk. Playing with money was nothing for a women like her. Playing with power, now that was more heady, but she'd given up that particular vice years earlier. After all, power was its own brand of trouble, and the responsibility that came with it? Cat didn't enjoy that at all. Give her a jump from a high rooftop any day, or a man in a cape and cowl to run from.
"Oh? What a wise beautiful woman," she teased about his assumptions, and he'd done well so far tonight, in the glow of that fire. "Zeus is my father. You have me all figured out." Her father certainly thought he was a god. The Lion, and she was his little Lioness, and she would inherit his kingdom. Only she didn't want his kingdom, and that had take a fair bit of time to figure out.
She watched him return with her cup, and she watched him watch the old couple. She took the cup, and she watched his expression, and she thought perhaps it told more stories than his words ever would. "Did you think that would be you someday? I always knew that wouldn't be me." It was plain candor, unadorned and laid bare in the bonfire light. And, for once, it was actually the truth.