Re: Gotham: Russ & Imogen
"I'm a lot of things," she said with what her mami said was her enigmatic smile. "I'm eclectic and unconventional." She liked those words. She wasn't thinking about bigger, because bigger was inside her. She didn't ponder her faith, because she was sure of it. She liked how he laughed, though, like he did it often. People were too serious, and life was too short, and she slung the violin back on its strap and kicked her pack up with the same long-limbed indecency as before.
That she was a little fuzzy was evident. She didn't have much experience with drunk, but she was still steady on two well-planted feet as she stood between her stool and his legs. She had no fear of closeness, nothing that spoke of scared little girl unaccustomed to being near someone with hands that big. She was unguarded, open, unintentional invitation in a dirty camisole.
"I'm in New York. They call it Marvel on the journals. I haven't ever read comics." Her papi, the teacher that had lost his classroom to give his wife the little girl of her dreams, had never stolen graphic novels for them to read. She was in love with the written word, and she hadn't ever been romantic with chat bubbles and brightly colored heroes. "I know where it is. Imogen C on the journals. I think you need the C." She was a hint of slur mixed in with the foggy isles and warm Caribbean.