Well, that was interesting, and certainly unexpected. In all honesty Anye's endgame for the night had been getting Nick back to her house, though not at all for the typical reasons most women had. She just wanted him where she could keep an eye on him, it was as simple and pure as that. Because sometimes Anye still was simple and pure. If she could have ever really been called simple, anyway. If she got him in her home she felt relatively certain she could get him to crash, and that was all she wanted. It might not be the easiest of tasks, but Nick looked dead on his feet, so maybe she had the advantage. If she got him in her house, if she got him comfortable, was he really going to want to schlep out of Red Hook and walk the hour or so home? The point was, if she got him to sleep, she didn't think he was gonna wake up again before the night was over, and that was one less night she had to worry about getting the call she'd been dreading. That he was dead or dying of an overdose, only to be wiped by the Agency if he actually survived.
Don't go there, she told herself, and she smiled. "Not sick of Mexican yet?" she asked, but nodded. "We could head to my place. See if my new charge wrecked it. Find a terrible movie to watch." Coffee ice cream started running down her hand, a flavor she had picked at random while wondering if it was actually caffeinated. Hoping, rather. She'd had only a few hours of sleep herself, having spent the past few nights staking out the Den. That was one wonderful thing about New York, a good rooftop vantage point was almost always available. She'd at least left the sniper rifle at home so she wouldn't be tempted to headshot the guy she'd begun to think of as Nick's pimp. Anye licked the ice cream of her skin and looked hopefully up at Nick. She expected to be turned down - she usually did these days - but she was prepared to fight for it if she had to. Maybe she wouldn't have to. Everyone caught a break sometimes. In theory.