fcrthedas:

         “Uh.” So Alistair totally had no idea how he’d gotten himself
into this situation, and he wasn’t sure he liked it one bit. “Why am
I doing this again?” He asked, his hands holding onto the seat a
little tighter than was comfortable. 

“Because Tightbutt Guerrin and I have an arrangement,” she popped her headset on and gestured for Alistair to do the same. “And because you’d get jumped for your watch on the subway and nothing says badass prince-slash-superspy like arriving at a party via helicopter.”

image

Switching channels, Hawke checked in with the tower. It was a beautiful July day and they were all clear. “Right,” she paused to straighten the picture of Carver clipped above her head, then reached for the throttle. “Hit play on my ipod, will you? Yeah, the red one there.” Her fingers slid down to the collective lever and the rotor system roared to life. “You like Bon Jovi, your highness?”

ofdreamers:

If you ever find yourself in Atlanta, I’m sure they could use some underwater support. You could name the sub Atlantis.

Definitely not a medium, definitely not interested in dead bodies. I don’t go near crime scenes, seen enough of that already. I’m a narc.

“I like the way you think,” she smiled appreciatively. “Is that where you’re from? Atlanta?”

Hawke was already arranging the jigsaw pieces in her head. A different city, enough experience with drugs for Aveline to take her on, blood in her past–that was definitely a corner piece. 

“Not a lot of room for honesty in a gig like that. If you ever need to come up for air, I’ve got a quick exit to the clouds.”