Work Text:
“I didn’t come here to fight,” Cora said, crossing her arms.
Braeden raised an eyebrow, her arm still blocking Cora’s entrance into her hotel room. “That’s too bad. Because if I recall correctly, that’s all we seem to do.”
Cora pursed her lips. If Braeden wasn’t going to budge, neither was she. “Well, you did leave me in a fucking bank vault after a week of watching after me then never came back. Oh, and I also heard you’re a contract killer. That’s cool.”
Braeden sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but Cora cut her off.
“If you say ‘girl’s gotta eat,’ I’m going to punch you in the face, I swear.” Cora felt her lower lip wobble and flushed. She still felt like a little girl around Braeden—especially with the new scar Braeden had on her throat. She looked like a warrior.
Braeden scowled. “Cora, why are you back? Why come into this mess again?”
Cora slung her bag over her shoulder. “Forget it.”
“Wait,” Braeden said before Cora could walk down the dim hallway. Cora smiled. “Let’s get a drink or something. Talk about the good old days.”
Cora rolled her eyes, but turned around. “I’m pretty sure the good old days involved you sneaking me off to motel rooms so we could argue and fuck.” While you were secretly deciding which one of us to save.
Braeden finally lowered her arm, allowing Cora inside. “We can do that too, baby-doll.”