When he arrives, Jason will find Yelena leaning one arm against the counter of the food truck, chin propped in one hand as she watches the man inside the truck go to work on all the food she ordered. She knows how boys eat, and she is no shy eater, either. It’s a lot of food, and definitely enough to share.
She grins when she hears him approach and turns her head slowly to look over at him. “I got us a bunch of tacos, loaded nachos, empanadas, and some sopapillas.” It seemed like a good feast to her anyway.
She's lucky there's food involved. Well, he would have come anyways, but still. He parks his bike nearby and heads to her location, and he can already smell the food, his stomach growling. It's been a long few nights.
"Guess this means I'll have to forgive you for being such a jerk, huh?" He's already gunning for the nachos, wanting to pick at them. "This your second serving?"
"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.
As promised, Yelena is waiting in the hotel room for her. She will know the exact moment that Kate arrives, she's sure of it, because there is really nothing subtle about the archer at all. That's okay, Yelena has enough subtlety in her work life, she could do with obvious, flat-facts in her personal life.
It is still strange to think she has one of those. A personal life. A social life of some sort, even. Very small and ultra-contained, and she still hasn't really moved outside of her general circle of former Widows and her fake parents– she's still a little bitter about that whole thing, actually– but something is better than nothing, and at least when they get together now it's not only because of a mission. Sometimes, it's a mission and it's family night.
Either way... she waits, and she's glad that Kate will never have evidence of the stupid way she keeps looking at her phone every time the next text is from her.
It's true, subtlety has never been in Kate's bag of tricks. She wouldn't even really waste her time trying to claim otherwise, which was really saying something, because sometimes making claims with little to no evidence counted as one of her hobbies.
She would, for instance, claim to be generally a cool person, even though she definitely provided evidence to the opposite on the walk over, if anyone had been paying attention. This is a whole new level of 'holy shit is this really my life' and, even though Kate's a little more than reasonably sure of herself, probably, that's still a lot of holy shit to contend with.
Thank goodness for New York, talking to yourself a little on the sidewalk doesn't even register to most people. She manages to knock off the combination pep-talk-excited-ramble-no-way-is-this-a-trap-right-no-mantra in the hotel lobby, at least. Getting kicked out in the LOBBY would be the most mortifying, she would be forced to lay down and die somewhere, probably. The rambling is absolutely what's going to give her away in the hallway, though. There's no way that's not going to be audible for at least a minute before Kate manages to shut herself up again and knock.
She hears a voice in the hallway following just a little bit after the very faint 'ding!' from the elevator at the other end of the hall. It's a moment or two after that before she can distinctly tell it's Kate's voice.
She's talking to herself, and even though Yelena can't make out all of it, she catches enough bits and pieces to realize she's trying to be her own hype man.
So, when that knock finally comes, Yelena is already on her feet and wandering over to answer, open bottle of vodka in one hand as she swings the door wide. "Hi..." she grins and steps aside to let her guest inside. It's a decent room, nothing overly fancy but the bed is big, the pillows are fluffy, and- well, there's the vodka in her hand.
Oh, right. That grin. Why would she care at all if it were indeed a trap when that face is pointing that grin at her?
"Hi." If there had been anything particularly memorable about this hotel room, aside from the occupant, it would not have registered to Kate anyways. She looks around just enough to follow Yelena in without walking in to anything or trip. She doesn't think she's going to end up regretting her priorities on where to keep her gaze - the alcohol might end up a different story, but oh well. "Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you. Should I have actually offered to bring something? I'm sorry."
There is something always just this side of high-energy-nerves that follow Kate, an almost electric feeling in the air when she’s in the room. She feels like… that moment when a storm is building, and it’s past the truly calm part already, but hasn’t quite started really ramping up. Just this burst of something frenetic that needs… release.
“No, this is not one of your mother’s fancy socialite parties, we are just…” she trails off, a perfect pause for effect even if it was really only because she’s not sure what the right word for what they are even is… “…friends…? Having drinks and maybe watching a movie…?” Her words hang in the air, awaiting their answers, while she tries to judge Kate’s reactions to all those phrases, and the suggestions that came with them.
Yelena is a multitasker, though, and she moves to flop back onto the bed once again. She’s in comfortable clothes, an old t-shirt that’s too big on her and a pair of pajama pants that rest low on her hips, socked feet swallowed by the bell flare of the pants. Practical enough to fight in, but far more casual than the sort of things Kate usually sees her wear.
“Come join me, Kate Bishop,” Yelena calls from the bed, feet pulled up toward her so her knees are basically a bridge, arm outstretched toward the other girl, fingers flexing. “I am so sad and alone in this white cloud.” Which to her credit, is exactly what the bed looks like— all white, white mattress, white sheet, white duvet. “It’s either a cloud or a marshmallow, whichever one you like the idea of best.”
No, this was about a million times better than any of those fancy parties, already. There was that sense of sort of tight rope walking that she always had around Yelena, that sensation of not being able to see the ground but just... not being worried about it.
"Are we friends?" It's probably not an incorrect word, but it doesn't feel like the exact right fit either. There's no negative reaction to it, though - it matters, sure, but for now she's happy to call whatever this is whatever Yelena wants to. "Drinks and a movie sounds fantastic."
Thank goodness Kate had resisted the urge to get fancy herself. She's not dressed quite as comfy as Yelena is, but at least she's also casual in jeans, t-shirt, and a hoodie. That had almost not been the case at all.
"Yeah, you look very sad and alone right now." That gets a little laugh, and a little bit of staring, before Kate actually follows directions, kicking off her sneakers and climbing onto the bed. Had to try and burn that image into her mind first. "I think cloud is probably more fitting. Less... sticky."
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