"Sometimes. Sometimes, I hang out on rooftops or go to the bar. Depends on my mood," she says with a shrug as she bites into her empanada.
As she finishes off that bite, she says, "Your city is like New York's seedier cousin, did you know this?" It's not a real question. He lives here, she can't see how anyone could miss it.
"Knew there was a reason I liked you." Cause he does the same exact thing. Right now he's chowing down on some nachos though, and an empanada is next. "Could use some brews though, for fucking sure."
Jason raises an eyebrow, snorting at her comment. "Hey man, fuck you." But yeah, okay. "I mean, you're right but still. Only Gothamers can talk shit about Gotham."
"More than one, I hope," she says with a cheeky grin. She grabs a nacho and shoves it in her mouth. There is nothing remotely elegant about this, or her, and she's pretty sure he's the last person on the planet to care about that.
"I'm Russian, I judge all of your American cities by birthright," what that actually means is anyone's guess, half the time Yelena just says words and hopes they come out cohesively enough to make a sentence. "Is there tourism here at all? Or is it just all crazy bat people and manic, masked weirdos?"
"Maybe two," he says with a cheeky grin right back. He's relieved that she's not elegant. Nothing about elegant is meant for him.
"Oh, right. We all fucking suck to you, huh." Hey, she makes sense to him. Maybe that's why they work. "Mostly just crazy bat people and manic, masked weirdos, but people love to come check it out. I'm thinkin' about trying to start a Red Hood day."
She laughs, “Yes, see!” she spreads her hands and gestures vaguely in his direction. “I knew it.”
“Is it not natural for Americans to also hate Russia? I feel tensions are always there on both sides,” maybe not in individual relationships between people, but the overall? The country to country relations? Yeaahhh.
She squints a little and cocks her head to the side. “What would this day mean- will not be a bank holiday? Will you run through the streets in chaos?”
"Yeah, two is like a fucking miracle around here." And she puts up with him too, so there's that.
"Doesn't everyone hate the Russians?" He says with a smirk, snagging a taco to take a big bite of it. "I'll run through the streets in chaos and chili dogs will be free."
"Yeah, you seem like the type who would be." Of course she'd take it as a compliment.
"Eh." Jason shrugs, eating another taco. They're gonna end up finishing this feast pretty quick the way they're going. "I mean, that's all we really need right? Free food for all. Peace on earth, man."
“As if you aren’t also?” There is nothing very, shall we say, ‘mainstream’ about this boy. Not that she’s complaining.
She snorts at that, “If only it were so simple, huh?” She knows people have their notions, their goals for their cities, their countries, the world, but… Golden ideals are far from the dripping red and inky black life she grew up in. She can’t relate.
"I guess so, sure. Nothing wrong with that." Not always by choice either, but this is the way things are. He's gotten better at accepting shit about himself lately.
"If only. Then I wouldn't have to be out here every fucking night." he probably would be anyway though, because this is his life. Always has been in some shape or form. He can't relate to golden ideals either. Everything is so far from it that all he can do is joke. He's assuming she's smart enough to know that.
She nods a little and hums a soft, thoughtful note. “We do what we have to,” she gets it. She was made into a weapon, but she’s learned ways to use those skills to do good things. Or at least, she’s trying. It’s a process, and not exactly an easy one.
“My job is not the same as yours,” she says simply with a shrug.
Which is a really convenient segue into why she’s really in town anyway. “I’m trying to find someone. Her name is Tatiana Petrova, I think she might be a hired hand somewhere in your city. For who, I’m not sure, but maybe you have seen her—” she shows him a picture of a woman on her phone.
“Or her call sign somewhere,” she flips to another picture in her camera, an hourglass shape inside a circle. The sign most Widows leave if they leave one at all. Tatiana was always a bit of a boaster that way, Yelena can only hope that hasn’t changed under Dreykov’s chemical subjugation.
"Never said it was, but I'm sure you can still find shit to do." Idle hands and all that. Yelena doesn't seem like the layabout type as far as Jason knows. People like them are always finding things to do.
It's kind of a relief when she does bring something up. Not that he was about to judge her or anything. It's easy for him to shift back into work mode. "Haven't seen her, but it depends on who she's working for." He takes her phone to get a better look. "I've seen this sign before, though. Couple clubs downtown."
Yelena has never stayed idle for long, it's not in her blood. Moving is the only thing that has ever really kept her alive, and if she stops... Well, she just thinks it's best no one finds out what happens if she ever does.
"Which ones? You can get us in, yes?" She knows Gotham plays on its own set of rules, and she'd rather know what she's dealing with before she starts breaking them.
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"This the place you come to when you're bored?" It's not bad.
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As she finishes off that bite, she says, "Your city is like New York's seedier cousin, did you know this?" It's not a real question. He lives here, she can't see how anyone could miss it.
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Jason raises an eyebrow, snorting at her comment. "Hey man, fuck you." But yeah, okay. "I mean, you're right but still. Only Gothamers can talk shit about Gotham."
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"I'm Russian, I judge all of your American cities by birthright," what that actually means is anyone's guess, half the time Yelena just says words and hopes they come out cohesively enough to make a sentence. "Is there tourism here at all? Or is it just all crazy bat people and manic, masked weirdos?"
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"Oh, right. We all fucking suck to you, huh." Hey, she makes sense to him. Maybe that's why they work. "Mostly just crazy bat people and manic, masked weirdos, but people love to come check it out. I'm thinkin' about trying to start a Red Hood day."
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“Is it not natural for Americans to also hate Russia? I feel tensions are always there on both sides,” maybe not in individual relationships between people, but the overall? The country to country relations? Yeaahhh.
She squints a little and cocks her head to the side. “What would this day mean- will not be a bank holiday? Will you run through the streets in chaos?”
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"Doesn't everyone hate the Russians?" He says with a smirk, snagging a taco to take a big bite of it. "I'll run through the streets in chaos and chili dogs will be free."
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She shrugs, "Probably, but obviously, they're wrong, we're delightful people," she grins at the idea. "Everyone will praise you for the free food!"
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"Eh." Jason shrugs, eating another taco. They're gonna end up finishing this feast pretty quick the way they're going. "I mean, that's all we really need right? Free food for all. Peace on earth, man."
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She snorts at that, “If only it were so simple, huh?” She knows people have their notions, their goals for their cities, their countries, the world, but… Golden ideals are far from the dripping red and inky black life she grew up in. She can’t relate.
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"If only. Then I wouldn't have to be out here every fucking night." he probably would be anyway though, because this is his life. Always has been in some shape or form. He can't relate to golden ideals either. Everything is so far from it that all he can do is joke. He's assuming she's smart enough to know that.
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She nods a little and hums a soft, thoughtful note. “We do what we have to,” she gets it. She was made into a weapon, but she’s learned ways to use those skills to do good things. Or at least, she’s trying. It’s a process, and not exactly an easy one.
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"I busted three drug rings tonight, and that was only before you messaged me." All in a night's work. "Why were you so bored?"
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Which is a really convenient segue into why she’s really in town anyway. “I’m trying to find someone. Her name is Tatiana Petrova, I think she might be a hired hand somewhere in your city. For who, I’m not sure, but maybe you have seen her—” she shows him a picture of a woman on her phone.
“Or her call sign somewhere,” she flips to another picture in her camera, an hourglass shape inside a circle. The sign most Widows leave if they leave one at all. Tatiana was always a bit of a boaster that way, Yelena can only hope that hasn’t changed under Dreykov’s chemical subjugation.
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It's kind of a relief when she does bring something up. Not that he was about to judge her or anything. It's easy for him to shift back into work mode. "Haven't seen her, but it depends on who she's working for." He takes her phone to get a better look. "I've seen this sign before, though. Couple clubs downtown."
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"Which ones? You can get us in, yes?" She knows Gotham plays on its own set of rules, and she'd rather know what she's dealing with before she starts breaking them.