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The conversation had grown stale.
It had grown stale for a while now.
Hours of staleness that had festered into days of staleness, and nothing Leo or CJ talked about seemed to ease the growing tension building between them.
The air had been tight with patience —to the point where the rest of the team had felt it best if the two worked out their little tiff on a mission of their own.
And that had gone...as expected.
Her sneakers crunched as bitterly as the voice that spat their squander,
"We lost him."
His brow pinched lower, voice cold and crisp, "Well, we would've had him if you caught my signal."
"What signal?" she scoffed, "You looked like you were scratching your face with your shoulder."
"That's the signal! Everybody knows that signal!"
The hockey mask flipped up.
"Maybe if you actually said what the signal was gunna be instead of assuming I knew it —you run your mouth all the time about dumb stuff, but when it's important—"
"—Okay, you see this is why—"
The hour of the night mattered not.
The natives of the city were accustomed to the occasional street spat ricocheting about the alleyways…often accompanied by the whir of a siren or the honk of a car just outside their buildings. It came with the territory of social congestion, and was the best possible cover for the most secret of societies.
The cover of night was usually taken with a token of gratitude and appreciation.
But all rules seemed to be thrown to the wind that night, temper and frustration blinding to all senses…especially direction.
Leo's arms, gripped at his waist, had flared out in aggravation, far too distracted by the failed plans of the night to mind much where his path had led him.
Trailing backwards, his gaze had locked sourly on her, slipping between the parked cars lined tightly along the road.
And far too focused on what was in front of him, Leo had lost sight of anything else, for the harshest blast of the car's horn had not been given enough time.
Cassandra's eyes had slowly shifted to the impending doom, or at least everything felt much too slow as she processed the event about to take place…
Knowing...regardless of how durable he was made to be…
Leo would not survive.
The world felt quite frivolous then.
Everything.
The adrenaline had kicked into overdrive, unable to hear the screech of the tires or the boom of the engine, the scrape of her sneakers or the catch of his breath before the bang.
She could only focus her senses on her finely tuned movements —the only things that had not bricked on her—and the widened gaze of those mystic blues, too rare and unique to end their glow that night.
And for a moment, she thought that was it.
Her last view of the world, enveloped in fear and pain.
But no regret.
And in the brief seconds that processed like years...she accepted this fate.
For her pulse might cease, but his would thrive on.
Those strange and weird blues would still carry his laugh and hide his secrets and hold his tease.
Shine with potential and glow with might.
And as she stared into them so vividly in these moments, Cassandra realized there was something honest about the way he expressed himself, wholesome and pure.
Riddled with the mistakes of youth and inexperience, but wanting to make his mark regardless.
Wanting to do better than the last.
Determined to grow.
Mistakes be damned.
He tried... so hard.
His stare froze within hers, a timestamp within the chaotic devastation about to ensue, and despite the terror that haunted those bright eyes, she found an eternal comfort there.
Warm and accepting and doting and sorry—
She liked those eyes.
And that was something she found she could quietly be rested with.
Her olive greens could keep secrets, too.
But not today.
With impossible dexterity, a massive portal ripped beside her, tearing through with such vigor —such precision...
She had nearly assumed death's door was exactly that.
It had been so close, she had felt the suction of the vortex slam against her arm and nearly trim it off, sandwiched between one doorway and another as the car continued through...and surely only death could have answered such a miracle performance.
But the weight of gravity followed through as Leo's gaze grew closer and closer until she slammed into his chest.
Disordered and discombobulated.
Colliding into the alley across and smashing everything along with it.
The car door jarred open half a block down as the driver left the engine stalling in search of the souls he had witnessed. In search of answers. But upon reaching the darkened alleyway, there were no answers to be found.
They were gone.
It was quiet under the sewer cap until the steps trailed away, and sliding halfway down the ladder, CJ's sneakers hit the foundation first, cupping her shoulder in slight rotation as Leo stepped off the bottom rung.
His fingers latched onto her wrist, firm and tight,
"Are you crazy?"
Huffing darkly, she yanked her arm back, or at least tried to, failing to shake off his stable grip, or his hardened gaze—
"…You saved my life."
The drips of a loosened pipe pattered in the distance, filling the void between them.
His fingers slid loosely along her palm, and the warmth of her hand melted the chill of his own, claiming a squeeze, gentle and true.
Soft, and quiet.
Shy, and serene.
And without an ounce of pride…he was thankful.
The bright blues catered to her vacant stare. They would live to see another day. Vibrant and clear, and too bold to face head on in this quiet.
Her eyes darted off with a lowered brow as she sharply tugged her wrist free, and she nursed the area with an awkward pout.
"Y-Yeah, well…you saved mine."
Her nose scrunched at the truth it held, though maintained her sour timbre.
"…You're a dummy sometimes." she muttered under her breath, wiping off the edge of her cheek, "Doesn't mean I want you dead."
The bright blues were joined by a slight smirk.
"…Dead wouldn't look good on you, either. You're a lot better at waking the dead than hangin' out with 'em."
Another dark huff.
"…You callin' me loud?"
"Not callin' you quiet."
The bat she often carried spun in her grip, nudging the blunt end into his cheek, "…Like I said. Dummy."
His gaze teetered, casually brushing away the weapon.
"That's a lot of bark comin' from a Foot Recruit."
Her snort echoed the chamber.
"Fff…I'd rather eat dirt." she spat, thumbing along the wider end of the bat.
Her scowl then faded into a quieter frown, avoiding his gaze as her thoughts wandered. "I'm better off on my own." she muttered under her breath, "I'm good at that."
The blues remained intrigued by her evasion.
"You're better off…where you're wanted."
His words bounced off the chill of the sewer, but returned with a founding warmth, unique to he who had spoke them.
The kind of warmth that forced pause into her thoughts and contemplation into her actions.
"…and that's with us."
Again, for the briefest of moments, the tunnel grew sparse with sound.
"—If you can handle us, that is."
She dared to match his gaze for only a moment, and in it was the playfulness she had missed, and nearly lost for good.
But regardless of the brightness in his eyes or the richness of his tone, CJ remained an arm's length away in all aspects of life, her arms clamping tight,
"Cassandra Jones never backs down from a challenge."
Resting his chin within the nook of his thumb, Leo cupped his palm along his elbow.
"I know. It keeps things interesting." he grinned, knuckles gently swiping her arm, "—And call me crazy, but…I like having you around."
The frost of her eyes gently thawed in a rare moment of vulnerability —enlightened and silkened at the sweet natured honesty that wrapped her so warm. The corners of her lips nearly curved, and for a few seconds, she enjoyed the creature before her, genuinely and without fault.
"Shadows must be playing tricks on me —is that a twinge of pink I see, Jones?"
The molars in her jaw nearly cracked with tension.
"—No!" she hissed, feeling the blood boiling through her ears, and with a sharp punch, she propped her bat along her shoulder and led the way, "—And you better get your story straight, Blue!"
Rubbing the stiffness in his arm, Leo trailed along with an achy sigh, "…What story?"
"You got from here to Canal Street to figure out what you're gunna tell Splinter when he realizes some dummy pawned off his vintage jump suit!"