Spades Slick, infamous head of the Midnight Crew, entered the closest coffee shop he could find, daring the bell on the door to jingle cheerily at him. He woke up at 3:00 am (of all the hours) by Deuce setting off a chain of small (loud) explosions in the hideout's lab, and hadn't been able to relax enough to reclaim his stolen sleep. Slick hadn't even administered one newspaper drubbing, as he found the little guy sitting on the floor of his lab, covered in soot and looking intensely pleased with himself. Newspaper drubbings were only satisfying if Clubs at least looked sorry for what he'd done.
The quietly irate gangster sat down at a corner table with his cup of steaming black liquid, metal fingers of one hand clicking thoughtfully against the ceramic. The beverage was much too hot to drink at the moment, so he indulged in a little people-watching, amused when the residents of Midnight City wouldn't meet his eye. He shrank back a bit in his seat, however, when he saw a very familiar lady walk in.
The petite Prospit woman known as Ms. Paint politely ordered a chocolate croissant and a licorice tea, sitting down at a table by the window, the soft morning sunlight gleaming off her smooth, white carapace. She sipped her fragrant tea slowly, giving the rest of the cafe a cursory glance, and saw Slick. "Oh! Jack, hi!" she chirped, waving a hand in his direction and coming over to sit with him.
Is she really….she's waving at me. She really is. Fuck. Slick thought bitterly. He and Paint had known each other when Spades was still a Derse agent, going by the name of Jack Noir. Paint had worked for a Prospitian newspaper, and was sent to Derse as an ambassador of sorts. He had been impressed with the way she took to the darker moon, unafraid of the thorn-like spires and dark, winding hallways. She had taken Jack aside for an interview about the benefits of being a Dersite civil servant, and when she had finished, he'd asked her to stay. "Stay here, on Derse? You mean…no, I'm afraid not, Mr. Noir. I'm needed on Prospit. I have a job to do." She had said with a smile, and Jack had let her go. Even when the Agents (and Queen) had been exiled, after Jack had become Spades Slick and built his city, he'd still thought about her. Sometimes.
And now, she was sitting right in front of him.
"Hey, Paint…'s been a while.", was all Slick could come up with while Ms. Paint sat down, adjusting her pink headscarf and smoothing her blouse. "It really has! You look different, Jack. And I don't just mean the, um…" she gestured to his arm and eye patch Slick gave a dry bark of a laugh. "Yeah, these are new. Got 'em both from, ah, a lady of former acquaintance." Slick couldn't tell her that he'd been in a violently hateful relationship with the ex-Black Queen of Derse, she'd have them both all over Prospitian magazines in no time. Ms. Paint gasped. "You mean an ex-girlfriend? Jack, that's terrible, you surely notified the authorities?" she asked incredulously. Slick sighed, rubbing the carapace between his eyes. Of course, why didn't he call the police? It would have made perfect sense for the leader of the Midnight Crew to get help from MCPD, yes of course. He attempted to avoid the subject.
"Oh hey, one thing, Paint, could ya not call me 'Jack'? I got a new name now, something I picked up on my way outta Derse." She blinked her sparkling black eyes quizzically. "Really? What is it?" "Spades Slick." He replied, taking a cautious sip of his coffee, and giving her a surprised glare when he caught a snicker. "Somethin' funny?" he growled. "Oh, oh no, ahaha.", she covered her mouth with a hand. "Just, you're not what I think of when someone says the word 'slick'." She giggled quietly, sipping her tea. "…I'm not?" he asked, doing his damnedest to not sound disappointed. "No, no. You know who's really slick, is that Draco fellow who worked in the government offices with you. He was some kind of dignitary, wasn't he?" Slick rolled his eye. "You freakin' kidding me? I mean yeah sure, the guy's got style, but he's got more issues than a Dersite tabloid. Also he's an asshole."
"I see.", Paint mused, nibbling her croissant daintily. "So do you two still work together? What exactly are you doing here in this city, anyway, Ja—, oh, I'm sorry, Spades?" She asked. "We do, actually, which is why I say with utmost certainty that yes, DD is, in fact, still an asshole. It's me, him, HB and CD here, we run most of the casinos in this town, few of the bars…" he trailed off, hoping she would get the idea. "Oh, so you're all independent businessmen! My goodness, you must live quite a glamorous life, Mr. Slick." Spades thought of all the bloody skirmishes with their rival gang, the Felt, and his panic attacks about being dragged back to Derse, and the former Black Queen, now going by the (stupid) name of Sn0wman drunk-teleporting right into the Crew's hideout at 3 in the morning just to antagonize him…"Independent businessmen, yep, you know it." He showed his fangs in a sarcastic smile. "The most glamorous."
Ms. Paint looked up with a start at the glass window behind Slick, and he swiveled around in his chair to see what startled her. A creature with a strange, squishy, pumpkin-colored shell was tapping the glass, looking furtively at Ms. Paint and pointing down the street outside. "It looks like our little visit has to end here, Spades." She said, standing and pushing in her chair. "What, really? Who the hell, what the hell is that?" Slick whined, jabbing a metal finger at the window. Paint clucked disapprovingly. "You hush, no need to be rude just because he's a different species. And that's my employer, AH. I wanted a change of scenery from Prospit, so I signed on to be his housekeeper, and today it seems we're going to look at some curtains. He's assured me they're very, very important." Slick followed her to the door, hands in the pockets of his overcoat. "Nice seein' ya, Paint." "Likewise!" she chirped. "Have a lovely day, Mr. Slick"
"I'll, see ya around, then? Since you're workin' in the city and all that?" he asked, putting on his usual scowl so as to not seem quite so hopeful. "I certainly hope so." She replied, making her way down the street to her employer, who was trying to look nonchalant as he was slowly being surrounded by curious carapaces. Slick never told his Crew about seeing Paint again, and he carried her words around with him all day, just a little bit of happiness that he wouldn't dare show anyone else.