[As she'd told Eddie she would, the kitty cat reevaluated her plan. Oh, it had been spur of the moment. Anger as a result of the trails of dead cats that lined Gotham's streets like some morbidly furry arrow. And for what? She would've come without the theatrics, and sometimes she abhorred Joe's theatrics. This was nothing compared to turning the city into a chess board and using children with kitty-shaped bombs strapped to their chests as pieces, but it annoyed her almost as much.
Joe could have his chaos; she didn't care about his chaos. But kids and animals? Tsk.
And she hated that she had a cover to maintain. She was a Falcone darling these days, and she couldn't ruin that now, not when capo was so close that she could taste it. So, she had to sheathe her claws, and she had to bide her time. But this visit? This visit couldn't be avoided.
And, oh, she was a little bit insulted at everyone's opinions about her competence, and maybe she deserved that. But these days? these days she was feral, and that was the only way to get in good with her new little Family. She wasn't scared of Joe, and there weren't any dried tears on her cheeks,
She was dressed all in black, guns at her thighs and her whip around her waist. Claws and her goggles down, and she saw that turning ferris wheel from miles away. She was quiet, stealth, and this was her advantage. She was on the ferris wheel without anyone being the wiser. She wasn't even a shadow in the black; she wasn't there at all. Silent, and she was in the car above Joe's without even making it twitch, and then she leaned over the side, arms on the back of the seat, and the higher ground as she looked down at the clown.]
This better be good, Joe.