Re: Gotham log - Ella D, Clem M, Shane A
Ella's memory of Vegas put Shane as a conjunction of parts that she remembered: the coat, the dirt that limned fingernails, the scratchy back of the voice sound of his voice and flem-ridden cough. He'd made her jump the first time and he rounded into the room and her fingers flew away from the undrunk tea.
He looked different, like one of those puzzles they gave children: one of these things does not fit, which is it? He wore a suit better than he'd worn the clothes she'd seen last time, and he looked better than Joey had right when he'd been spat out of zombies but he was still intimidating, hard masculine presence inserted into a room of undercurrents.
"I brought something of Joey's," her voice lost a little of tannin-sweet certainty, and the smile was faint like underdeveloped film. The penthouse was large enough to disgorge others along with him, large enough they hadn't known he was near enough by to walk on in. "And Clementine wanted tea." She met the scowl head-on just long enough before a glance back at Clem. "I don't need to wait. It's just a jacket."