Re: Gotham: Russ & Imogen
He wasn't real familiar with gratitude. You took what you had or you earned or you were given, but you avoided that last one as much as possible unless you wanted to get fucked over good when people stopped giving. You made something of it, or you didn't and you didn't talk about it because you didn't talk about much.
He watched Imogen slide off the stool like there was intention in her direction, like she didn't look like some kind of street kid sketched up by someone with more poetry than sense. The woman in back he'd figured was here to wait out her dealer or maybe to just be somewhere the A/C worked and the bartender didn't give a shit. He wouldn't have given her shit, and the cast of his mouth was disbelieving, but the kid talked like she believed this shit more than she believed in cash in her hand.
"You just gave your shit away to that woman, and you want me to buy you a drink?" But he lifted a finger to the bartender, because the kid didn't just have balls she had brass ones. "If this is a church, I've done some real shitty things in it," it was sarcasm cut shallow enough to bite the way sandpaper rasped, not enough. "So why are you here, drinking liquid candy and giving money away?"