Chapter Text
The darkness is her friend.
The man is leaning against the wall around the corner – she can barely make out some of his right arm – and it’s easy enough, she’s quiet enough to slink up behind him and slip a gloved hand over his eyes. He’s expecting her, of course, but she startles him anyway. He almost manages to hide it, but she’s pressed up against him too tight to miss the way he jumps.
“Madrox.” The way she smiles around his name is pointless, he can’t see her, but she does it anyway.
“Butterfly,” he says. “You ever gonna tell me your real name?”
She laughs. “You’re the detective, why don’t you figure it out?” When she takes her hand away from his eyes, she takes care to brush her fingers lightly down his cheek, and it’s entirely unnecessary but she can’t help it. He has impeccable bone structure, she has to admit. She takes a slip of paper from between her breasts and presses it against his fingers – he takes hold of it, but she doesn’t let it go, not yet.
“Everything I asked for?” To his credit, he doesn’t turn his head. Eyes front, Mister Madrox, there’s a good boy.
“I’m sure you’ll find this information useful.”
He doesn’t try to tug the paper free. “I probably shouldn’t ask about your sources.”
You wouldn’t enjoy knowing, she thinks.
“So. What is it you want this time, Miss Butterfly?” So carefully casual. It’s a façade, but nowadays, who doesn’t wear a mask? “Money? Diamonds? Got little enough money and no diamonds, but I’ll do my best.”
“Hmm.” She lets go of the paper and turns his face towards hers, pressing her lips to his cheek for a brief moment. “No, not diamonds, I don’t think,” she murmurs into his ear.
He swallows hard enough for her to hear it. “Ma’am, I don’t think I’ll ever know what to do with you.”
Again, she laughs, soft and low.
“I know.”