Re: Capital Rooftops: Cat & Sasha
It was likely an indication of just how unconventional Cat's childhood was, the fact that her sister stumbling made her laugh. Normal people would be worried, afraid, suffer from a very logical concern that the stumble could send Sasha tumbling off the edge of the building and to her death. But, Cat? She chuckled. Too many years spent using a whip to swing from rooftop to rooftop, and sidewalks and roads? Had been an afterthought for the kitten the Russians raised.
"There's nothing wrong with finding a nice library-goer to settle down with," Cat insisted. "Someone whose idea of fun? Is Netflix and chill." See? Technically, Cat was forty, but she was still hip to the lingo. "It doesn't mean you're over the hill, kitten, if you find someone nice. Eddie and I? We just want the best for you." That? Was absolutely true. Eddie had a soft spot for her sister, and he was regularly more protective of her than Cat was.
Cat, she'd always been a little too liberal. Even with tiny Hels, five, and Cat had let the little girl dress herself, choose her meals, and make all types of decisions. Empowering, that was what Cat called it.
Cat hit that last rooftop, the goal, and she turned to look at her sister. "One more job. We always said that, and there was always one more job after that one. One more job? Is never just one more job." She tipped her head, and she watched her sister explain, talk about that fabled heist, and she shook her head. "Kitten, I wouldn't care if you ran heists for the rest of your life, if it made you happy. But I'm not sure it does, not anymore. So?" She looked out at the city, too clear to be home, but nearer than the quiet words and short roofs of Repose. "Convince me."