[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]definitely more than fucking awkward now. confusion etches itself into the features unmasked and really, she's a little caught off guard. somehow, she had expected more than a friendly smile. something like yelling or a dirty look or anything, really, besides this.

and yet, it doesn't exactly feel like much of a surprise. expected but not? we'll settle on that.

"what're you doing here?" she murmurs, halfway between a jog and a trot to catch up to him as he begins crossing the street. the sirens fade a little with each step and she feels a little weight ease off her chest. more people, more camouflage. less of a chance of getting caught. although, this somehow feels similar to being caught anyway so is she really winning? no, definitely not.

when she settles into step a pace behind him, a thought rises. does she apologize? give an excuse? or ignore what happened? all of the above, none, unknown. she can't decide and maybe she won't have to. maybe he'll decide for the both of them and she'll go with the flow as she always has.

"i didn't expect to see you." okay, that's definitely not what she meant to say but it came out in an attempt to fill some space she wanted to get rid of. instead, she probably rubs salt into wounds and makes this harder. yikes.

Finley Black

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]that's much more of what she expected, really. bitter and not surprising. actually, it earns a little laugh from her. she can taste the awkwardness in the air, the things left unsaid and implications hanging in the balance. it makes her fidget a little, hands uncertain of what to do so they twiddle around gloved fingers as if that's the only occupation they need.

"in mauville," she supplies, even if she didn't exactly expect to run into him again either. but that's just what she does, if she has to put a reason behind it. get involved for a night and then leave, escape off into the night like some animal and never return. it's safe, it's secure, it's emotionless. and yet, it's also like a bad habit. like smoking cigarette after cigarette despite saying every night that you'll quit the next day. funny how you never seem to quit, only return to the same vice.

"i see," she pauses for a moment, recognizing the streets they're moving down. it's close to her own home. huh, a small world indeed. "maybe you live near me, then?" she doesn't know what else to say and as usual, the first thing is fired out.

where he turns, she follows. the sirens are forgotten in the parts of a city left behind them and now, she can fully focus on him. her mask is slipped off her face and onto the top of her head. her eyes drift for a moment down to her catsuit, to the attire of her brand of thief. huh, right. it's not normal clothing, not in the slightest. whoops... probably not the best time to pull a heist either. it's fine.

"yeah, a run, we'll go with that," she lets out a soft snicker, as if it's amusing in itself. a run normally doesn't involve evading police forces but it's fitting enough and she doesn't feel like explaining herself or the suit. instead, she'll tilt her head toward him, an eyebrow raising. "what, did you just finish work or whatever?"

Finley Black

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]she hums but doesn't offer anything further in regards to their possibly close living situation. better left untouched, perhaps. well, as untouched as she'll allow for now. they're heading in his home's direction, anyway, so she'll find out soon apparently.

she's glancing toward him at the mention of work. right, people have normal jobs and normal jobs come with shitty days. it shouldn't be surprising but somehow, to her, it is. what made it shitty? is it right for her to ask? curiosity kills cats and all that shit but eh, it couldn't hurt? "what made the day shitty?" she murmurs, as if she's allowed to pick his brain and his day apart in the middle of the sidewalk. before she can ask anything else, though, he starts talking again and the bitterness around him seems to ease a little. the comment catches her off guard when it shouldn't. maybe it's because she doesn't expect people to want to see her again. not after how she always leaves them, anyway.

there's a pause, a hesitation, before she gives him an answer.

"it's nice to see you too," she settles on because it feels right and fitting but is it a lie? no.

his eyes drift to her outfit, distracting her from anything else. and the laughter that escapes is genuine, amused, and a little confused. why's he so concerned about her outfit? don't people wear leather suits like this? no, they don't and she's just odd in her little thief getup but it's fine, everything's fine. "oh, you know, i don't breathe much," a joke, or an attempt at one. it doesn't go over as well as she hopes but the delivery is confident enough for her to push through it. "it's kinda like a second skin i guess? i don't know. it does its job?" and by its job, she definitely means it hides defining markers from cops and is cute as fuck. thank you, fashion.

Finley Black

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]"how could it lack effort?" she doesn't understand the concept. not in the way he means, anyway. doesn't all writing require effort? or is she just not familiar with what writing articles actually entails? either way, her head is tilting as if she's confused, which she really is a little.

her lips spread into a grin when he laughs, when he feeds her a little compliment behind a question. damn right it's a job to always look good. and while she would like to say that she is the best at that job, she probably isn't. it's easier to look like a hot mess than just hot, right?

"i dunno if you want to know what i do for a living," she's not trying to be coy, per say, but there's a little mystery that she wants to keep around her occupation. it's not exactly cute to tell every nice guy that looks at her that she breaks into people's homes and steals their possessions. yeah, definitely not. and while she hopes he doesn't pry further, she has enough knowledge of him to know he will.

his apartment is closer now, the thought solidified by his murmur. an eyebrow raises because it really is kind of close to her own home. at least, she thinks so? mauville hills is nearby, right? you'd think she'd know the city she lives in by now except all she really knows are the alleys used to get away. always knowing the escape route... fitting, huh. "it's cute over here."

Finley Black

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]an eyebrow raises but she doesn't pry further. there's probably more to the criticism they gave than he's allowing her to see but that's the name of the game isn't it? playing cards close to the chest, using a poker face to keep from folding. she won't force him to fold. not yet, anyway.

"i don't know," she murmurs. this isn't exactly in her realm of expertise. she's good at giving people what they want, saying what they want to hear, and being whatever they need. it's odd to have questions asked about her, about her life, her work, her existence. perhaps that's why she fidgets a little bit, as if it's uncomfortable to fully give an answer. does she lie? or give tidbits of truth to keep him satisfied? her mouth parts when the next sentence comes and there's a pause before she's plastering a grin onto her lips. "is that the journalist part talking?" there has to be an angle to it, right? another story hidden somewhere in her. he couldn't actually want to know more about her, right?

"however close mauville hills is to here," she murmurs, eyes distracted by the building. it really is cute, nice and quaint and warm. she lingers by the steps with him, as if uncertain as to if she wants to stay or go. her eyes flutter down the street and back to his and in a moment of honesty, she gives him information like word vomit because she doesn't know what to do right now. "i take things," blurts out and then, she's clearing her throat and glancing away. "that's what i do."

Finley Black

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]the finn part. she... doesn't know what to do with this information, really. it takes a moment to process and then another moment for her to actually understand. him, genuinely him, wanting to know more about her. no angle, no story. just him. it makes her a little uncomfortable if she stops to mull it over more carefully. she doesn't, though, in true giada fashion.

"right, the finn part," she murmurs because she doesn't know what else to say. it's a first, really. sure, men might want to know more about her and might even care a bit but it always comes with an angle, with what she can do for them. and besides, does an object even have information to give?

a heel taps almost impatiently at the ground. it's mostly nerves, mostly the need to move because fight or flight always kicks in at some point. usually whenever she feels pressure or just when she feels that annoying need to run. and she's always running, even if she's still in the moment. she'll always look for an out, for an escape. it's nothing new and definitely nothing he hasn't seen before. the night at the hotel proves that much.

"like a thief," she confirms. it doesn't sound that bad now that she's saying it out loud. but it's definitely not good either. somehow it settles into that gray area, maybe. halfway between good and bad, existing on the cusp of something. a light laugh follows, rehearsed almost. like that's what's expected of her so she supplies it. "that's the point. i'm a cat burglar so it works, sort of?" plus, she just really loves cats.

Finley Black