Re: Log: The Cat - Cat/Matt
[She chuckled at how easily he asked her about Jack.] I didn't sleep with him, and I don't want to. If I wanted to? I would've already done it. [She wasn't saying that just to say that. Well, mostly, but Cat wasn't willing to linger too long on thoughts about people she wanted but hadn't tried to claim. It would be too introspective for the woman in the red boots, and tonight was already filled with too many truths. And Cat, Cat wasn't good at truth, but there was something about the shared dialect with this man, and she figured why not? After all, Matt? Wasn't going to tell anyone about anything she said. He had that going for him.
She watched his face as he produced the lighter. Oh, she'd noticed he hadn't agreed not to change his mind about going to Russia. But Cat, Cat was impulsive, and she followed through. With him or without him, she already knew she'd be walking through the front door to that nightmare. As terrifying as the idea was, there was something steadying in the promise of answers, of throwing open the closet door and facing the monster within. Cat, she would go, and whether or not he joined her? That was entirely up to him, the originator of this idea. She might look into buying the building beforehand. It would be, she thought, a worthwhile investment.
She smiled gratefully when he brought flame to plain and battered silver. She dragged in three quick tokes, taking advantage of the pungent weed as it caught red and gold. She wasn't expecting him to take the joint and inhale the sweet burn, but it did bring a chuckle to her lush lips. She took the smoke back, and she tucked it between her lips for another few drags before the cinders died out.] I can get high. I can get drunk too, but it takes a lot. It takes a lot of weed too. [She held up the joint.] This is pure. Mostly it helps me calm down. [Ah, no point in admitting to pain or weakness, because that would lead her down a path she wasn't interested in walking tonight.
She chased the weed with a long swallow of newly poured vodka, and she didn't argue with his Russian - Isaiah might very well be scared. And she was watching his face when she made her confession. Was she playing with him? To a certain extent. It was manipulative, but his interest in Isaiah? Would make him more likely to get down to the truth about the man. In Russian:] You didn't ask why with Steve. [She motioned to the joint again, because it needed rekindling.] Why do you ask now?