2019-05-20 - Stupid. I like it.


Mick takes Lena out for the night. Normal is weird.

Log Info:

Storyteller: {$storyteller}
Date: May 20th, 2019
Location: Coney Island, NYC

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Lena Snart strides down the boardwalk, for once not covered in her parka and silver visor. Instead, she looks…normal. Civvies were the garb of the evening, and her hands were full of something purchased - a paper plate topped with funnel cake and light powdered sugar. Picking at it, chewing and eating contently, she offers some to her companion. Cold offers food and a question.

"Mick," she begins. "Is this stupid? Normally, I never question myself about our choices, but this is…different. No masks. Out in the open. Dating." Her brows knit before she takes another bite from her sweet. "I mean, we paid for this." Pause, "We're paying for the evening."

Civvie looks aside, Mick was still…Mick. A big and angry looking man plenty would stay away from, but perhaps that helps. "Nah," he shrugs dismissively, his fingers in the pockets of his jeans as they walk while his usual leather jacket hangs around his shoulders. "The food is good, the night is good and…" he grins at the woman. "Company's good too. Besides…"

He takes a mouthful for himself, but that doesn't stop him from talking. "Isnf tha th poin uf rubbin bnnks?" he questions before swallowing the mouthful. "To have something to spend?"

Lena Snart muses a smirk, the expression pressing a dimple into her cheek. "I guess. It's not the /only/ point, though." Something he knew well already. Looking at her treat, she blinks and glares up in the man's direction. "I'm sorry, did you just eat my cut?" Mick had a big mouth sometimes, and sometimes and even bigger bite. In some defiant move, Cold folds the deep-fried goodness and starts trying to stuff the rest within her face. It only serves to round out her cheek and coat her skin with dust. Even so, she stares pointedly at Mick.

Mick just looks down at the woman for a long moment, smirking a little before he swipes a finger across her face where she'd spilt the sugar before raising an eyebrow. "And you're wearing mine. Guess we'll have to go and ste-…buy another one."

Flush and warm, Snart eyes the man's hand and then up toward his face again. "Been meaning to talk to you about that, too. I'm thinking we start swinging 60/40, me getting more respectively given I'm the brains of the operation." It's hard to tell for a moment if she was serious, or joking. In truth, it could go either way. Reaching out, she claims his wrist before slipping closer and linking their arms. Snatching a napkin off another food cart, she cleans off her face properly.

"I'm trying not to talk about work. I didn't realize how hard that was." She confesses. At home, it's easier, out here? "I know we needed to get out. I'm, well, touched that you wanted to take me out anywhere. We haven't really done that since I got out of juvie."

"Never figured you for a comedian Lena," he comments, voice just as gutteral and low as always. Clearing his throat as their arms link, he shrugs his shoulders and those fingers find their way back into his pocket. "Well I figured that this was dumb stuff. Boring, and dumb and all…" he trails off with another shrug of his shoulders. "Didn't figure you'd like it is all…not that you're dumb."

"You know me, Mick. That's scary enough, but you know me and…you know I'm many things, but a liar I'm not." Keeping pace, she eyes the crowd around them, the throng going about their way. "I like it. It makes me sick to my stomach, but I don't hate it." Frosted eyes up, she blinks smoothly and leans her head closer, resting it against the side of his arm. To his arm, she clings tigther, digging in her silvery nails into the fabric of his sleeve. "Sometimes, I wish it was like those stories you write. Easy to deal with the twists and turns of it all. Figuring this out is harder than any safe I've ever cracked."

There was a cough, a sputter of suprise before he looks down at her. She knew? Well…of course she knew. Still, he clears his throat and shrugs. "I'd like to think they're not…too easy…" he mutters before he looks down at her, one hand lazily coming across to try and squeeze at her arm then make its way up to cup her cheek. "If it makes you feel better? I could go and knock over an ATM or…"

He trails off, a grin coming to his lips at a flash of memory. "Or find a car to steal."

Lena Snart smiles gently, resting her cheek into the cradle of his rough palm. Sighing, eyes shut, she stalls in their walk and sinks in deeper against his form. Head down, brow to chest, she chuckles at his suggestion of the ATM. "We could do that…" Then he comments about the car. Head up, she cants her head to the side. "Sneak into a movie? Maybe…hit up a gallery?"

A grin now, the arsonist chuckles and the cupping of her cheek turns to a brush of her hair behind her ear…and then a little 'noogie' of her hair. "I will -not- promise that nothing will die by the end of the night. Or at least be on fire." With that, he turns his eyes towards one of the stands and the throwing balls towards the bottles. "Or broken. C'mon, lets go win some stuffed bear or somethin'."

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