1963-08-18 - Tom's Diner
Summary: David and Kitty meet up to compare notes on the wave of kidnappings they're both caught up in.
Related: First Impressions
Theme Song: None
maverick kitty 


There are about a million diners in New York and somehow, somehow, David had been able to suggest meeting in one of the only ones that isn't overly crowded during the lunchtime rush. He was still too pleased to have been contacted at all to really worry about his good fortune in that regard — there are only so many gift horses whose teeth he's willing to inspect at a time.

He had no idea how far his meal partner would be commuting from, so he'd picked one that was a short walk from Central Park. A quick walk for him means that he's already settled into a corner booth with a menu in his hands, quietly whistling along with the jukebox filling the room with sound. He's dressed much the same as he had been before — navy blue suit, tie. Unremarkable.

*

"Do you always wear suits?" comes a small voice behind him. How Kitty managed to sneak up on him is anyone's guess, but even as she does so, she seems ultra casual about it. Maybe she's simply used to sneaking up on people unexpected. Much like the day before, she reflects a very typical American teenager: light wash jeans, cable knit sweater. Unlike yesterday, however, her curl hair has been allowed to be curl — not pulled into a tight ponytail. Maybe today is a casual day. Who knows?

She slips into the seat across from him, and reaches for a menu. As she does so, some woman behind them comments about their age difference, prompting a very unceremonious roll of Kitty's eyes. "Everyone's a critic," she murmurs quietly before running her fingers down the menu, "What's good here?"

*

When Kitty announces herself, David closes his eyes for a moment — a minor but visible sign that, yes, she has successfully caught him by surprise. Again. "Not always," he finally replies, opening his eyes and offering her a smile as she moves to sit. "But lately. I packed for a much different trip than I've wound up having."

It's hard to tell if the twinkle in his eye and the smirk are in response to the woman behind them or to Kitty's response, but either way, there they are. "Haven't the faintest, it's my first time here. But, it is a diner, so I assume the coffee and french fries are at least worth a try," David says brightly, setting his menu aside. "Would you be offended if I offered to treat? Purely to say thank you for reaching out."

*

There's a curious quirk of Kitty's eyebrows at the offer followed by a nearly feline smile. "I'm fine with that Mister North," a glance is cast over towards the woman that had made the comment, "but just to be clear, I have a boyfriend." She shoots him a large toothy grin. Yes, she did just say that. And yes, she does find it hilarious.

She lifts the menu to hide her cheeky expression, but she's not that good at concealing her amusement. "So," her jaw tightens slightly, "why are you looking into these occurrences? Vested interest? Vague amusement? Retired police officer?" Yes, she's still suspicious. No, she doesn't hide it very well.

*

That gets David's smile to widen. "I'll be on my best behavior, Miss Pryde," he promises, straightening up in his seat and holding up one hand, his thumb closing over his pinky. "Scout's honor."

That hand goes straight to his chest at the questions, however, and David adopts a pained expression. "'Retired'? I'm not that old." Still, the suspicion has what is possibly a desirable effect — he sobers, loosely clasping his hands and resting them on the table. "To be honest, if that girl hadn't piqued my interest, I don't know if I'd have continued paying this much attention," he admits, sounding a touch guilty. "But that level of skill, and that… nothing, behind the eyes? Can't let it go." He pauses, realizing he skipped the other implied question. "Would you believe 'Canadian intelligence'?"

*

Putting the menu down, Kitty leans forward to study David's face and then offers a shrug, "People retire from the police force early." She insists upon this point with a quick nod. But the bit about the girl causes her features to turn stoic — a characteristic she'd not needed until now. "I worry about her." Her lips press together uncomfortably and she swallows hard. "Maybe I shouldn't."

When the waitress comes for their order a moment later, Kitty opts for a coffee and an order of french fries; nothing else looked kosher.

Her eyes narrow at the question. "Canadian intelligence?" there's another unspoken one behind that question. "What do you do, Mister North?"

*

Coffee and, after a moment's consideration, a BLT for David. The last one he'd had was good, why not see if he can go two for two?

"I worry, too. She's too young for that look," David replies in a low voice, frowning and dropping his chin into his hand. "What she's capable of at that age is not… normal. I don't like it. Something's going on."

He blinks that particular train of thought away at that, lifting his head. "It's not very glamorous," David chuckles. "A lot of paperwork and meetings. Some outreach. I actually came to town to offer someone a job, but this came up and… frankly, seems more important."

*

The BLT order prompts an eyebrow raise from Kitty. "I've been told they're very good," she muses quietly with a lopsided smile. But getting back to the girl, Kitty's lips purse. "What they're doing has me concerned for her. I'm still working through what I know — " because it's patchy " — but they seem to be actively trying to hurt people. On purpose. With little regard for, well, anything except their goals."

She sucks on the inside of her cheek, "What kind of job?"

*

"I'd tell you if I could. Honestly. I'm still getting accustomed to being unable to discuss my work," David grumbles, immediately dropping his chin right back into his hand and sighing wistfully. "I didn't realize how much I enjoyed telling stories over drinks until I was no longer allowed to."

Without straightening up, David slips his free hand into his jacket long enough to withdraw a notepad, which he slides to the middle of the table. Already open, the first page is covered in handwriting, but it ends halfway down the second page. "My notes. It's infuriating. I have her gun," he says, keeping his voice quiet to try and avoid the attention of Miss Judgmental in the next booth. "But it cannot be tracked with my resources, and my resources are very, very good."

*

Kitty stares at David skeptically, still unsure about sharing what she knows. But then she cranes her head to see his notes, peering over at them while trying not to be too intrusive. "I…might be able to fill in a few blanks." The waitress brings their coffees and then retreats.

Kitty swallows hard and instinctively scans the diner. When her gaze returns to David, she offers, "About a month ago I woke up in a white room, hooked up to an IV with a tube in my nose." Casually, she picks up her black coffee and brings it to her lips. She takes a long sip, and levels her expression. For better or worse, she's managed to bottle whatever emotions she has about her experience and offers, "And I'm one of the lucky ones." She hums quietly. "I wonder if the girl with the claws wasn't." Her expression deadens.

*

Seeing the hesitation, David gives the notepad a little nudge closer to her with a finger before he straightens up to accept his coffee from the waitress. Then he settles back in his seat and returns his focus to the young woman across from him.

As Kitty relays the story, a lot of the mirth that had been present around his eyes vanishes, replaced by a far more genuine look of concern. "My lord. No wonder you came at me the way that you did," David says lowly, and there is no pity in his voice. On the contrary, his voice carries a level of respect beyond what it had before. "I'm very sorry, Mi — Katherine."

*

The name Katherine causes just a glimmer of something in her eyes. "Not many people call me Katherine. One of my teachers," the professor, "my parents. My grandparents." Pause. "And you wondered why I thought you could be retired." She smirks, lightening the mood before allowing her shoulders to sink. Her throat clears and her head shakes, "I'm okay. Honest." It's a line that's become rehearsed; second nature.

Her hands curl around her cup. "They take people from protests and do things to them. I don't really understand the nature of what. But I think they were trying to weaponize me somehow." Her lips twitch slightly.

*

The teasing is enough to bring a little of that twinkle back to David's eye. "I wasn't sure if we were on good enough terms for 'Kitty,'" he smiles, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. He doesn't press or argue when she says she's okay, whether he believes her or not. In his mind, it would be overstepping.

One of David's eyes narrows very slightly at her choice of phrasing. "Weaponize you?" he echoes, and now he leans forward enough to ensure he can be heard — he's dropping his voice enough to be damned sure the local critic can't overhear him. "This wouldn't have anything to do with how good you are at sneaking up on me, would it?" he asks, with a small smile.

*

A vague shrug follows the questions and Kitty directs herself back to her coffee. "Some of us are just natural ninjas," she arches a single eyebrow at him only to level her gaze back to her black drink. "I'm just good at being at the right place at the right time." There's a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as she says it. But the mischief dulls a moment later.

"Look. These people are dangerous. You need to be careful. I'm not exactly sure what they're up to, but they have some power in multiple senses of the word."

*

David will take that as confirmation. A conspiratorially murmured "Makes two of us," is his only note on that and, with a wink, he straightens back up.

"I'm beginning to worry about how much I agree with you, to be honest," David replies, his smile fading to a far more sober, pensive frown as he regards his coffee, which is still untouched. "They have enough influence to keep the truth from the papers. That's not something your average criminal syndicate can pull off, certainly not in more than one state." He glances up from his mug. "You did say this went beyond New York, as I recall. May I ask..?"

*

"I woke up in New Orleans," Kitty replies blandly as she stares through rather than at David. Going through people really is her thing. She emits a soft sigh. "I don't know how far. I don't know where it ends. But New York. Louisiana." She shrugs. "I am to find out." Her lips press together lightly, "My friends and I helped the people in New Orleans. We just need to be smart." Her lips hitch up on one side, "I'm guessing they know we're onto them."

*

There's no admonishment for having apparently gone on a rescue mission and prodding a bee's nest. David just draws a pen from his jacket and sets it down on top of his notebook in front of her. "I would very much like to help," he says quietly, and although his voice isn't carrying it, there is a certain tension around the edges of his eyes that betrays just how troubling he finds all of this. "Do you recall the address in New Orleans? I can see if I can find out who owns the building, find some kind of a trail to follow."

*

There's a flicker of a smile at David's offer. "I'll get it. I don't have it handy. I've," Kitty's throat clears, "tried to erase it from my brain as much as possible," which she has essentially failed at. "But I'll be in touch again. And I'll bring it." Her eyes lid lightly, "I just want people safe." She casts him another tight smile. "It was a bunker under a hospital. I only put it together because of the story in the paper about transporting people from the hospital. And then the details made some sense."

*

"I don't blame you. The fact that you're pursuing this at all says a great deal about your character," David notes, reaching across to touch not her hand, but the table in front of her. "As soon as you have an address for me, I will look into it. Whatever I find, even if it's a dead end, is yours. You have my word."

David withdraws his hand and falls quiet long enough for his sandwich and her fries to be dropped off. As the waitress retreats, he offers Kitty a smile. "You and your friends are very good people," he notes, finally bringing his coffee up for a drink. "I'm glad we met. Even if my knee has its doubts."

*

Kitty hums apprehensively at the assessment. She clears her throat, "My friends are good people." Her colour fails and her face pales. "I'm not sure I'm not seeking revenge." Her lips purse slightly and she stares at the coffee in front of her. "Don't tell anyone." She rests her elbow on the table and then her chin on her hand. "It's not normally in my nature." Her lips press together tightly. "But I'm angry," you wouldn't know by listening to her. "I've never been this angry. I'm not easy to catch off guard. But I expected more." And that's simply that.

*

"There are some occasions where revenge is righteous," David says without hesitation, shaking his head as he returns his mug to the table. "I won't tell anyone, of course. But in this case, I think most people who frown upon that sort of thing might make an exception." One might expect that twinkle to be in his eye, or a smile to be tugging at his lips, but none of that humor is present. He means it.

*

There's a small nod that follows David's assessments. In a whisper Kitty offers, "I'm Jewish. I had family across the pond when everything happened." Her features harden. "I'm not okay with people being entrapped for any reason. Not when they did nothing wrong." She shoots him a flicker of a smile, "So you see, I know the truth, I'm not a good person."

*

The sandwich doesn't make it anywhere close to David's mouth before he returns it to his plate and pushes it to one side, out of his way. This time, when he reaches across the table, he does try to touch her hand — lightly, briefly, and entirely easy to avoid. "Katherine. That is the definition of a good person," he says in a quiet, firm voice, raising his eyebrows at her. "Let noone make you think otherwise."

*

The touch isn't rejected, only followed by a small shake of Kitty's head. "I think good people do things altruistically. If I wasn't so knees-deep in this, if I wasn't so personally invested — both because of family and myself, then maybe it would count as goodness. But," she swallows hard, "I want people who did what they did to — " her " — suffer. And that isn't good. I need to find peace before I meet them," for Kitty's it's just a matter of time.

*

"Oh, all right. Have it your way. Still a better person than most, though," David notes, withdrawing his hand with a small smile. "It would be a much simpler thing to count your blessings and leave it to someone else to try. So you're at the very least decent." Now, he finally gets a bite of that sandwich.

*

"If I don't do it, how would anyone else even know it needs to be done?" Kitty asks quietly. "I was lucky. I woke up, and I've — " there's a flicker of a smile as her gaze cuts down and she tucks a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, " — got an unusual set of skills that helped me." She shoots him a small smile. "I'm sneaky."

*

That earns a laugh, heavy subject be damned. "I've noticed. I'm not an easy person to sneak up on but you're very good at it," David muses. "I'm mostly just very good at getting shot." Another wistful sigh and he reaches for his coffee, slowly shaking his head. "Sneaky would be much better."

*

There's a satisfied smile at the laughter followed by an easy nod. "So, I was lucky. And I could do something about it," Kitty offers with an easier grin. "If I didn't no one else really could." She shrugs and finishes her coffee. "Sneaky has its merits. I know that people have seen it as super useful. I can get in and out of places relatively undetected."

*

"When this is over, I should tell you some stories from before I took this job," David says in the tone of a man thinking aloud, smiling at her over his mug of coffee. "I get the feeling you might appreciate them. If only to laugh at my misfortune."

*

"I think I'd like that, Mister North." Kitty issues him another smile and a small nod of her head as she finishes her cup of coffee. "I do like to laugh." With a small smirk, she gives a glance towards the clock on the wall. "Unfortunately, I have a meeting with a professor — " so many these days. " — school," her eyes turn upwards. "I left for awhile and am trying to get back in." Pause. "But I'll be in touch again. I promise I will." She shoots him a toothy grin as she slides off the bench. "In the interim though, do be careful. Lots of people are working on this. We'll get to the bottom," she reassures.

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