"Taxi!" Root dashes up to the sole cab on the street, ignoring the rainwater that sloshes over her black boots before she can duck into the passenger seat. The next moment, her ears adjust to the rain-on-roof sounds that have replaced the full torrential roar and she hears the cab driver.
"I'm not on duty." Root looks up at the driver, a woman, and a striking one at that. Solemn dark eyes meet Root's dancing ones.
"I'm not going far," Root cajoles. "It's pouring. Please?" The driver's expression says get out. Root sighs.
"I didn't want to do this, but—" she pulls out her gun and smiles apologetically, "—I really have somewhere I need to be." It's a small wrinkle, and one that's easily surmounted, but then she sees the small handgun pointing back at her and the wrinkle gets bigger.
"Nice piece," the driver dead-pans. "But you need to get out."
Root keeps smiling, but her hand doesn't waver. The eye contact is strong as iron and hypnotic, and her breathing changes without her permission.
"Yours, too. Not your usual self-protection deal. Nano, right?" The driver's eyes widen a little, but that is the only indication that she heard what Root said at all.
Root glances up at the cab license clipped to the visor.
"So, where is Henry Saeed?" she asks casually, curiously.
She pauses. "Dumped him. I needed the cab." Root nods appreciatively at both the words and the delivery. The woman has a dangerous style about her. Root leans closer.
"I have an urgent matter." She layers her voice with seduction and threats, but it seems only to amuse the driver. Then she goes on, and mentions the street, and the driver narrows her eyes.
"You're going to East 50th? It wouldn't be 201, would it?" It is Root's turn to exhibit surprise before she figures it out. By the time she gets there, the quick-fingered woman has already stashed her gun back in her waistband.
"You're Shaw?" Root asks with glee. "This is going to be fun!" she grins, but her literal partner-in-crime has already grumpily jerked around to face the street.
She puts the car into gear and streaks down the street. Root grips the armrest and nearly drops her gun as they tear around a corner. She catches the slight smile on Shaw's face out of the corner of her eye, but it is gone when she manages to steady herself enough to turn in her seat.
"I was so glad when I heard you were the hitter on this job," Root confesses lightly. "I've heard a lot about you." Shaw looks vaguely uncomfortable with that, but lets it pass. "Maybe after, we could go somewhere quiet and talk." Root lowers her voice and leans in, her eyes never leaving Shaw's brown eyes. Those eyes, of course, are steadfastedly fixed on the wet road, although from Shaw's reputation, she could make this drive blindfolded. "I'm a big fan." Shaw finally meets Root's blatant offer with an exasperated expression, turning to look at Root.
"No. This is a job, not a date." She does look minutely interested, though, as if wondering what kind of woman would proposition someone who had been prepared to shoot them two minutes before.
"Who said anything about dating?" Root uses her sultry voice, the one that pointedly leaves all chance of a purely professional encounter off the table. "I just like to have fun."
Even though she's pretty damn sure Shaw is tempted, Shaw answers with what Root is realizing is her characteristic irritation.
"Do you ever stop talking?"
"When someone gives me something better to do with my mouth." The words are out before she can stop them, not that she would have tried. They earn her a raised eyebrow and a threat from Shaw.
"Touch me and you die, hacker."
Root simpers.
"You can call me Root, Sameen."
"It's Shaw."
"Okay, Sameen."
The gun again, out like a flash. Shaw has very quick hands and a killer arched eyebrow.
"Okay, Shaw." She still grins, though, because a gun is still a reaction. Root settles back for the drive, content to grin and stare at the tic starting at the corner of Shaw's eye. This is the most fun she's had in years.