❝barbara.❞ she murmured against him, soft as a secret. ❝you can call me barbara.❞ she stepped back, already drifting toward the roof's edge, glancing over her shoulder with a slow smile. ❝careful, паук. i might start liking you.❞
she took the ledger, weighing it in her hand for a moment before tucking it away. then she closed the distance he'd just made, rising on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, right where the mask met skin. >
❝the ones who made them 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭. and for 𝐲𝐨𝐮.❞ she tilted her head, lips curving. ❝so you can keep being stubborn, паук. but i'd much rather keep you in one piece.❞
she sighed, almost fond, and traced one gloved finger down the center of his chest, stopping right over the spider.
❝what i want is simple. that ledger has names in it, people who don't exist. people who were made.❞ her finger pressed, just slightly. >
a faint click at her wrist, then a hiss of blade through silk. she was free before he could blink, rising close, close enough to feel his breath through the mask. ❝ask me again.❞ she whispered. ❝nicer.❞
the web pinned her arms to her sides, and for a moment she just lay there, looking up at him like he'd done something terribly sweet.
❝help me?❞ she laughed softly. ❝паук, you can't even help yourself. you're still holding the ledger.❞ >
she didn't even blink at the nickname, already moving. one quick hook of his ankle, her knee settling on his wrist, hair falling around them like a curtain.
❝cute. but you're not getting a name.❞ her gaze dropped to his mouth, then back up, slow and deliberate. >
— I was really confused; the blonde had a strange way of speaking and was very flirty.
“I still need to know your name, just to be safe, Rapunzel.”
—she said mockingly.
she laughed, low and unbothered.
❝blonde.❞ she circled him once, slow. ❝names are for people who plan on seeing each other again.❞
her fingers brushed the edge of his web-shooter, featherlight. ❝you don't want trouble, паук? then stop following it home. the ledger. now.❞
she rose slowly, a widow's bite glinting at her wrist. ❝it's not your business. i'd hate to bruise that pretty mask.�� a smile, sharp and soft at once. ❝give it back, and maybe i'll let you buy me a drink instead.❞
❝friendly.❞ she repeated, tasting the word. ❝that's adorable. you can help me by forgetting the warehouse on pier forty-two, малыш. the crates, the men, the little ledger you swiped.❞ >