Contracted Cunning (Closed)

Participants: Selina Kyle + Lois Lane
Open/Closed: Closed
Location(s): The Kent Residence
Time of Day: Night
Weather: Overcast
Summary: When internationally acclaimed journalist Lois Lane needs help of a certain morally ambiguous sort for a lead she's pursuing, an unexpected name comes to mind.

Had the message come from almost anyone else, Selina may have considered it a threat or a power move. Because the missive didn't come to Catwoman through costumed mediums. No, it came to Selina Kyle in a totally mundane channel. But she didn't so much as blink at that. Honestly, for the world's greatest journalist, it would've been stranger for Lois Lane to not know Catwoman's secret identity in one way or another. (Selina thought she knew the "another," too.)

No, if anything piqued the Cat's curiosity, it was the content of the message.

- - - -

Catwoman crawled along a ledge on the architectural facing of a building, and just like every time before then, she rankled at how bright Metropolis was. She sidestepped the majestic, polished sculpture of an angel adorning the corner, polar opposite to the wicked gargoyles that would take their place if this were Gotham. Selina pursed her lips, peering through the windows of a top floor apartment across the street and the brunette shuffling through papers inside.

One dextrous move later and Catwoman dropped lithely onto the stylish terrace of Lois and Clark Kent. She ghosted up to the door that lead inward and hesitated with her fingertips over the handle. Her instinct was to pick the lock, but something told her it had been left open for her. Selina smirked at the sheer weirdness of the situation, half-chafing at it, half-reveling in it, then turned the handle and stepped silently inside.

Green eyes behind red-tinted goggles fell on a bottle of chilled wine and two glasses waiting on the kitchen counter. The smirk grew. "Honey, I'm home," she purred, just loud enough to carry through the modern, open floor plan of the apartment.

She hadn’t bothered unlocking the front door.

Now that she thought about it—as she struggled to take the plastic wrapping off the tray of little sandwiches without disturbing the contents—the most action that door ever seemed to see was from the pizza delivery guy. Nice kid. He’d picked up pretty quickly the correlation between the amount of extra cheese he gave and the size of the tip from Lois.

She finally got the plastic wrapping off and shoved into the trashcan—it was pretty full, but she was waiting to see how long it would take Clark to notice. A light breeze filled the apartment briefly, the only indication that her terrace door was opened and closed.

The next indication was the voice of her guest, one she hadn’t heard since she was being dangled—and promptly thrown—off the edge of the Daily Planet. Fun times.

She grabbed the tray turned around, friendly smile on her face. “Thanks for accepting my invite.” She honestly hadn’t been sure if Catwoman would respond to something as mundane as an email, but Lois didn’t exactly have a searchlight on her roof she could draw a really poor cat face on.

She set the tray down on the counter next to the wine. “Have a seat.” She gestured to the barstools in front of the counter, before circling the island and pulling one out for herself. She pulled herself up into one and tried not to laugh, thinking about what a pair they looked like: Selina, in full body leather and goggles, and Lois in her blazer and pencil skirt from work and a pair of fluffy pink slippers.

“I have red if you’d like that better” she said as she grabbed the bottle of wine, before promptly struggling with the cork.

Selina smirked - not unkindly - when Lois thanked her for coming at all. "Figured you wouldn't pull on this string unless you really needed it. Or the reason's really saucy. Or both." The absurdity of the scene wasn't lost on Catwoman when Lois, fuzzy house shoes and all, plopped a tray of sandwiches next to the chilled wine. She was already straddling the stool when the reporter offered her the seat.

Hardly had Selina perched on her seat when she reached up and began unfastening her headpiece. The goggles came off first, put as nonchalantly as a pair of car keys on the counter next to her. Catwoman peeled off the cowl next, revealing a head of short-cropped hair somehow artfully disheveled despite just being stuffed into a weave of faux leather and kevlar.

"My favorite wine," Selina said, and she reached over and took the bottle from Lois, "is the kind that's in my cup." She flexed her thumb, forcing the razor-sharp nail built into the digit to extend with a faint ching and catch the light. Catwoman jabbed the claw into the tender cork stoppering the bottle and, with a flick and a satisfying Scchpup! the thing went flying across the room.

"So," Selina said, filling Lois's glass, then her own. The Cat took a moment to throw back a healthy mouthful of the wine and hummed in approval. "How was work?" She rotated her wrist, causing her drink to swirl in the elegant glass. Meanwhile, beneath the countertop, Catwoman used one foot against the other to pry off her boots and let them fall, one at a time, to the floor below the stool.

Lois Lane

Lois wondered, briefly, how Catwoman’s hair managed to stay so perfect under the cowl. She remembered when she’d sported a pixie cut and she couldn’t wear a hat without her hair deciding to plaster itself to her skull. And don’t get her started on the bedhead.

She smirked at Selina’s comment as she took the bottle from Lois. “We have that in common.” Selina’s claws were apparently useful for more than just breaking into buildings and scratching thugs’ face, Lois watching as the bottle’s cork sailed through the air, landed, and rolled underneath the couch. She’d have to ask Clark to lift that and get it later.

Selina’s question was completely ordinary and blasé, as if they were two long time pals having a regular chat after an ordinary day. Lois figured that in itself was the joke and she couldn’t stop the upward twitching of her lips as she grabbed her own glass of wine and took a sip before responding. “Oh, nothing special. Wrapped up an investigation into the secretary of the local school who was skimming from the budget, wrote a fluff piece on a dog that saved a kitten from a tree, and followed some leads about some less than legal activities at the Metropolis Museum.” The last part was said cryptically, in a purposeful fashion that hinted at something else, as Lois grabbed a small sandwich before taking a bite.

“And you?” she asked after swallowing. “How’s cat burglar-ing these days?”

Selina's jade eyes sparkled in that way that was distinctly unique to her while Lois shrugged an answer to the question. To any other civilian - any other reporter - in the world, that list of nonchalant bullet points would've been far from "nothing special." But this wasn't any civilian or reporter: it was Lois Lane. She was in a league of her own, which was why, among other reasons, Selina had answered the summons in the first place.

They were two women who were distinctly other. Normal quantifiable boundaries or metrics didn't work - they couldn't be measured or put into boxes.

The thief didn't miss the last point on Lois's list. But she wasn't going to take the bait. It wasn't in her nature. Instead, she smirked when Lois punted the conversation back into Selina's court. "Not as satisfying as it used to be," Selina answered, truthfully, looking over her glass at the kitchen. "I'm starting to worry all of the things worth stealing I've already stolen." Catwoman smiled into her wine as she took another sip.

Lois Lane

Lois was almost surprised at the sincerity of Selina’s answer. She didn’t know the other woman well—as mentioned, her longest interaction with her until now involved getting thrown off a tall building—but she’d always got the sense that she was the type to put up walls, throw out a witty remark in defense rather than let anyone in. Lois kind of understood that mentality. She wasn’t exactly known for being the most openly vulnerable person.

Maybe Lois had it wrong, or maybe Selina had changed a bit, or maybe she was just as complicated as everyone else.

Lois gave a curious tilt of her head, swirling her wine. “I’ve heard rumors you’re more into punching criminals than being one lately.” Not like vigilantism was all that legal, but she was pretty sure authorities had given up on that one long ago. “Is that why?” She was aware that she was making her way into reporter mode, but there wasn’t really much even she could do to stop it. Lois Lane’s curiosity was a force of nature and those around her had learned to go with the flow long ago, including Lois herself.

The rumors had been a factor in Lois reaching out to Selina for the favor—aside from Selina’s obvious expertise in the subject, of course. The biggest factor, though, had been something that had caught her attention from the beginning: the fact that Bruce Wayne trusted this woman. He’d never outright said it, of course, but from their brief interaction and the information she’d been able to get out of Clark, it’d been obvious. That had piqued Lois’s curiosity, because that wasn’t something the Batman handed out easily, especially not to a known criminal. She’d heard from the Clark that the two had a… interesting relationship and while she honestly hadn’t called Selina here just to dig into the other woman’s personal life, should it come up, it’d be a nice little perk to the question that had been rattling around in Lois’s brain for some time now.

"Sad," Selina lamented. Her eyes had become unfocused, looking out the kitchen window and into nothing while she faintly sniffed at the wine in the glass she held vaguely in front of her face. Her green eyes were half-lidded, but that did nothing to shutter the strange light in her irises; if anything, the glow was transformed and focused into something even more predatory. "Used to be the rumors about me were so much more..." she looked toward the ceiling, searching for the word then, finding it, finished with a lazy smirk, "risqué."

She wasn't an idiot. Pretty far from it, really. Selina felt the subtle change in energy from Lois. The soft twist of the conversation, transforming it with the skill of a sculptor changing a hunk of stone into a breathtaking sculpture, into a covert interview. Selina didn't fault Lois for it, really. It was who the other woman was, fundamentally. She could respect that. Admire it, even. Truly, Selina had been surprised that their talk hadn't turned sooner, and was perpetually impressed by Lois's conversational finesse.

Selina mulled over the amusing prospect of shutting down any inquiry, no matter how cleverly made, just to spite Lois. Offering crumbs, though, sounded a lot more fun. "'Criminal' is such a boring word. 'Vigilante,' too. I kind of pride myself on being indescribable." Catwoman looked sidelong at Lois, appreciating and finding funny how oxymoronic that word was, and knowing Lois was appreciate it, too. She thought, then, of cutting past all the crap and directly asking Lane why she'd asked her to be there.

But Selina was learning just as much about Lois as the reverse, even if their talk seemed one-sided so far. And playing the game was more exciting than not, just then.

Lois Lane

Lois found her respect for Selina grow by an extra point. Lois usually hated her questions being dodged, especially since most had no subtlety about it. Selina was so good at it, though, that Lois had to metaphorically tip her hat. Selina’s delivery made it seem like she was giving, when really there was nothing leaving her palms. Besides, Lois didn’t really think there was anything nefarious behind Catwoman’s dodging. It was just her, well, cat and mouse nature, she suspected.

“A woman of mystery,” she remarked, “I can respect that.” She took a sip of her wine, eyed Selina slyly. “There are still some risqué rumors out there. Most seem to center around you and a certain Bat-themed bringer of justice.” She wiggled her eyebrows briefly, turning the probe playful rather than invasive. She was fully expecting Selina to dodge this one with another sly remark, but she couldn’t help but at least try to get some answers to the juicy gossip of the caped community. If she was being made to sit on this stuff and not write about it, then she had to get something out of it.

Selina, though, ended up winning the waiting game. Lois, knowing the two weren’t the old friends they were pretending to be and that she wasn’t going to be getting much else out of Selina, was itching to get to the entire reason she’d invited her over in the first place. “I have a gift, by the way.” She reached back, stretching to reach her purse where it sat on the edge of the island. She grabbed it, set it on her lap, and pulled out a rolled-up paper, large and somewhat wrinkled from being stuffed in her purse. It was the blueprints to the Metropolis Museum. She handed it to Selina.

"A woman of mystery. I can respect that."

Selina turned her chin up at this, opened her mouth and let out a genuine laugh. Their duality just kept getting underscored and reemphasized, and Selina was living for it. Lois Lane, a woman who'd made it her entire life's work and pursuit to eradicate mystery and flash hard truths on headlines for the world to see, sat beside one who curled up in enigmas and contradictions like a second skin, skirted and twisted the truth for the hell of it and defied quantifiable boundaries by nature.

But Lois wasn't lying. Neither of them were stupid enough to try pulling that crap on the other. They both saw through BS the way Superman saw through... well... almost everything. They were as totally opposite as they were entirely alike; because Selina could (and did) respect Lois, and Lois's character, motivations and determination, even if all of them went against the grain of her DNA.

Selina's laugh turned into a faint smirk when Lois jabbed at what rumors were, in fact, drifting around about her. The reporter knew better than to wait or push for an answer, though, and instead got to the good stuff. Selina arched an eyebrow. "Wine and presents? Oh, you must really need me to get my hands dirty for you, Lane."

With one hand, Catwoman kept swirling her wine idly. With the other, she unbound the roll of paper, letting the blueprints fan out on the counter in front of her. Selina's green eyes stared down, half-lidded, almost bored-looking, but interest given away by the shine low lighting them. "This is current," the thief observed in mild interest. The Metropolis Museum had very recently done a complete overhaul of their security. They'd done it secretly, too, whereas most would've made a big deal about it - basically daring any criminal to try their hand at it.

Only very, very few knew it'd been updated. The blueprints and designs for the new setup were guarded almost as well as the Declaration of Independence. That Lois had not only found a copy, but smuggled it to her apartment, was... Well...

Selina sat down her glass. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Lois hard. Sizing her up. Reading her. Unsure of what she was going to do, even herself. "Well?" Selina finally said, and gestured airily in a 'get on with it,' kind of motion. "I'm listening."

Lois Lane

Lois didn’t back down from Selina’s stare, simply returned it with a mild one of her own. She didn’t let her doubt show, that small bit of her that knew there was a chance Selina would turn her down and decide she’d rather not get involved. Lois, of course, would just find another way, but it would set her timeline back by a lot and she’d kinda been banking on this story for her next deadline.

“Six months ago, the museum got a new curator. Four months ago, said curator started making some pretty big purchases. Like, floats on water and can house a whole staff kinda big. A bit much, even for someone of her salary.” Lois took a sip of her wine and a bite of another sandwich before continuing. “A source alleges the curator’s selling off bits of the museum’s stock and replacing them with forgeries. Claims the whole thing’s being bankrolled as a sort of fundraiser for a human trafficking ring out of Russia.” And there was her zinger, her real hook. While she wouldn’t be surprised if Catwoman, known thief of valuable objects, shrugged her shoulders at some illegal auctioning, she would be if she did so at the chance to knock human traffickers down a peg. She knew Catwoman’s reputation of neutrality, but she wouldn’t be shocked if there were actually some pretty strong morals under there.

“My source has always been good, so I believe him.” She crossed her legs, threaded her hands together, and leaned forward. “I just need the evidence. And to get that, I need someone who can not only help me break into the museum, but can tell me what’s real and what’s not.” Because Lois, frankly, couldn’t tell a Da Vinci from a Monet. And she was good with lockpicks, not top of the line security systems. She leaned back again, gave a small shrug. “So I decided to ask for help from the best.” Flattery, she supposed, wouldn’t hurt her cause, particularly if it was sincere.