December 18, 1894
Elizabeth's breath comes in quiet gasps, sweat stinging her eyes and dripping from her chin, her entire body tense and clenched fists raised defensively as she stares up at her opponent. The man she's facing is bigger than her, stronger than her by far, and has a hell of a lot more experience, but Elizabeth doesn't let that bother her; one of the first lessons Booker had taught her was not to get hung up on her opponent's strengths, and to always go into a fight meaning to win.
"Even so… I have to end this now…" Exhaling slowly to calm herself as the thought crosses her mind, Elizabeth grits her teeth to cover up a grimace; the fight has been going on for a few minutes already, and she's tiring, slowly but surely. She'd gotten a few good hits in and avoided the worst of her opponent's attacks, but not enough to do any real damage.
A hard right hook comes flying from out of nowhere, the speed of the attack surprising Elizabeth as her body moves almost as if on instinct; dodging as quickly as she can manage, Elizabeth jumps back a step just in time as the gloved fist arcs through where her jaw had been. The blow passes close enough for her to feel the rush of air disturbed by the fist's passing on her face.
"There!" Lunging forward as the blow passes harmlessly, Elizabeth closes with her opponent in an instant, lashing out just as Booker taught her to; stepping into the strike and twisting her body to throw her weight into the blow, Elizabeth hammers on her foe's right ribs with a left before following up with a hard right. The man grunts as she connects, and Elizabeth grins as she makes to strike again. But she thinks better of it, and hops back again. "I can do this!"
But she's not fast enough, her aborted follow up strikes slowing her retreat. From the corner of her eye, she glimpses a gloved fist hurtling straight for her head as she backs up, and there isn't anything she can do but bring up her arms to try and soften the blow.
But rather than crashing into her arms and face, the clenched fist pulls back just before it's about to knock her out cold, opening and patting Elizabeth on her cheek. Booker crosses his arms and chuckles as she groans, his voice echoing in the empty gym, "And you're down."
"Dammit!" Collapsing as the tension disappears, Elizabeth groans again as she comes to rest on the worn wooden floor of the gym, "I thought I had you that time." The weariness in her voice comes as no surprise to her, she and Booker having been training in this dimly lit gym for the past couple hours.
Another chuckle, and she shoots Booker a sour look as he steps away. Stripping the padded gloves from her hands, Elizabeth lies down on the floor, the cool touch of the wood helping to ease the pervasive heat that seems to cling to her like a cloying blanket, "At least there's no one around to see this…"
The gym Booker has been bringing her to is really just a largish basement accessible from the street, not far from home but still outside of the Bowery. Somehow, Booker had arranged with the owner to use the gym when it's normally closed, and it is for this that Elizabeth's grateful, for a variety of reasons at the moment.
"Here." Booker returns, her father kneeling beside her and offering Elizabeth a towel. Still lying flat on her back, Elizabeth breathes a disappointed sigh as she takes the towel; it's been a month and a half since she'd started training like this with Booker, and while she's no longer completely helpless against him, Elizabeth has yet to win a single sparring session. The overwhelming difference in their strength when they'd started reminds her of something, and the thought draws a pained groan from Elizabeth; it felt not too dissimilar from struggling against Atlas and his men.
"Booker would've beaten Atlas hands down if he hadn't been so injured…" That puts a smile on her face, bittersweet though it may be. Leaving the towel on her chest and resting her cloth wrapped hands against her forehead, Elizabeth glances over to Booker, her father now sitting beside her as he pulls of his own padded pair of gloves. His hands and wrists are wrapped just as hers are, something Booker had shown her from the very beginning, and Elizabeth has to wonder at why he needs them; he's always pulled his punches. While she's gotten knocked around on more than a few occasions, Booker's always managed to keep from landing a full on blow, protective gloves notwithstanding.
"You're getting pretty good, Elizabeth." A grin tugs at his features as she looks up at him in surprise, a garbled 'huh?' escaping her, "Yeah, you're doing fine. And those last couple hits of yours," his expression warms as he rubs his right ribs, chuckling at her surprise, "really felt those."
"Thanks…" Murmuring quietly, Elizabeth pushes herself up so she's sitting beside Booker, idly dabbing her face dry as she thinks back on her 'training'. The padded gloves had come from the Luteces, and she suspects they're from another world and another time entirely, but she's glad to have them nevertheless. But there's little any gift can do to lessen the… rigors of Booker's lessons.
"Shooting went easily enough, but this…" Elizabeth sighs quietly; while she'd always kept herself in shape, whether from having too much time on her hands in her tower or running for her life after Booker broke her out, she'd never experienced anything like this before. No calisthenics or other exercises, just some stretching, some running, a touch of strength training and a lot of sparring and practicing on a punching bag.
Booker's trying to make this easier on her, Elizabeth can see that plainly, but his efforts don't seem to amount to much. It may be because she's not learning a particular form or from someone who's used to teaching, Booker's hand-to-hand training a mix of techniques he'd learned in the 7th and plain old street fighting.
"I think we're done for today." Booker pushes himself up as he speaks, climbing to his feet and offering her a hand.
"Much obliged…" A tired smile teases at her lips as she wearily takes his offered hand, Elizabeth rising with no small amount of help from Booker; given how exhausted she feels at the moment, Elizabeth's not sure she could get up on her own even if she tried.
"I'm… I'm going to get changed, Booker…" Looking down at herself, Elizabeth shakes her head in exasperation; she wears a dark blue cotton gym suit, the garment baggy and loose while still bearing a touch of 'feminine charm', or so the shopkeeper who sold it to her had claimed. While she could have kept on wearing her blouse and skirt, the gym's owner had looked at her askance the first time Booker had brought her here. The skirt hadn't tripped her up, but the wear and tear she'd put on her outfit after the first few days had nearly torn the outfit several times. "So, I wore this… ridiculous thing…" The trousers are especially wide around her hips and upper legs like bloomers, the trousers only reaching about halfway down her lower legs. The 'jacket' looks more like a cheap wrap coat, a set of buttons running up the left side of her torso. The right half of the coat wraps around her so it lines up with the buttons.
Even worse, the outfit manages to remind her a bit of Columbia; it looks much like the nondescript clothing the woman who called her 'Annabelle' wore, just before the ambush back in Battleship Bay.
"God, I was so naïve back then…" Trudging over to the corner she'd left her belongings in, Elizabeth blushes as she looks down at the familiar white blouse, blue skirt and corset, the bird brooch resting atop the neatly folded outfit; this gym doesn't have a changing room, just a few lockers and mirrors, so she'd either have to change here or go out as is. Apparently, this wear is appropriate for a young woman to exercise in, but not for going about town. "Don't want people talking any more than they already do…" Elizabeth heaves a sigh, shaking her head, "Seems like an unnecessary complication…"
Glancing in the mirror, Elizabeth finds Booker's already turned away, unwinding the cloth wraps while pointedly keeping his attention anywhere but on her. A seemingly small concession, but one she's glad Booker had picked up on quickly.
"Thanks again…" Muttering to herself, Elizabeth turns her attention back to her reflection, a frown touching her lips as she looks on; the touch of brown at her hairline has become even more pronounced, and she'd need to do something about it. While the dark brown isn't especially noticeable against the dyed black, soon the difference would be readily apparent, and Elizabeth isn't particularly keen on walking around the city with two-toned hair.
"Alright, best get this over with…" Reaching for her corset, Elizabeth winces as her body protests, seeming every muscle aching as she goes, "I hope Booker will put an end to this sooner than later…"
Ten minutes later, Booker and Elizabeth step out of the dimly lit gym and into the only moderately brighter New York street, the sun having already dipped below the horizon and casting the surroundings in the dark, peculiar look of twilight. A shiver runs down Elizabeth's spine, the cold of mid-December clashing with the lingering warmth from all the exertion she'd just experienced.
"Thanks, Booker…" She keeps her voice low as she smoothes out her blouse and skirt. The jacket and trousers of the gym suit lie slung over her right arm, and she touches Booker's arm with her free hand.
"You don't have to thank me every time I help with your corset, Elizabeth…"
"Yes, I do." Elizabeth steadies herself on Booker's arm as they start down the street, she still weak from today's training. Normally, Elizabeth could handle the task of donning her corset on her own, but when Elizabeth's as exhausted and sore as she is, lacing her own corset takes far too long for either her or Booker's taste. "But that's not the only reason, is it?"
She groans quietly at the thought, involuntarily remembering the first time Booker had helped her with her corset. "Whatever you say." A small smile touches her lips as Booker shrugs, Elizabeth sidling up next to her father as they stroll down the street in relative silence, the ever present sounds of carriages and pedestrians little more than background noise to the father and daughter.
"Hey, that's an idea…" Booker slows his pace as they round a corner, Elizabeth glancing up at him curiously. "Don't suppose you'd like to have something different tonight?" He nods down the street as he turns to face her, a wry smile tugging at his features.
Following Booker's gaze, Elizabeth finds a handful of restaurants along the street ahead, each appearing warm, cheery and inviting. "Umm… shouldn't we be getting home? Anna must be getting hungry by now…"
"I'd imagine Ms. Pearl's already taken care of that. But if you don't care for it, guess I can come up with something…" Booker gives her a sideways glance, "Still have to make up missing Thanksgiving…"
Standing in the cold with Booker, Elizabeth turns her gaze back to the restaurants and finds herself torn; part of her wants nothing more than to return home, hug her little sister tightly and climb into bed. But putting aside the exhaustion and aching muscles, Elizabeth finds a small, lopsided grin teasing at her lips as she nods, "… I'd like that. Dining out, I mean. Is there one you'd recommend?"
"No," he shrugs, Booker glancing back down the street before looking her in the eye, "never been to any of them. Umm… mostly spent my time in taverns, not restaurants…" He scratches at his cheek and looks away, Elizabeth looking over the restaurants one more time. After a moment, she focuses on one with a distinctly Italian looking name, wondering what it might be like; the meals in her tower were all of roughly the same style, and she'd never been to one such as this during her time in Rapture. Cohen and his ilk favored fine dining, and she preferred simple meals on her own.
Tugging on his arm as she leads him towards the restaurant, Elizabeth grins as Booker raises an eyebrow, "How about you let me choose tonight?" After a moment, Booker chuckles as he nods, and Elizabeth can't help but imagine her newfound enthusiasm is the cause.
But even as Booker finds them a table, Elizabeth can't help but think on something he'd said as she waits outside. "Make up for Thanksgiving, huh?" Quietly groaning, Elizabeth peers into the window idly. It's been a while since then, something like three weeks now, and she honestly doesn't mind that Booker had to work that night.
Elizabeth had only ever read about Thanksgiving, and she has to admit, she had been looking forward to it a little in the days leading up to the holiday; Columbia didn't celebrate Thanksgiving, so she had little chance to experience it. But as the day progressed, she found the local celebration of the holiday more than slightly disturbing; costumed, fancifully masked mobs began roaming the streets, and the moment she saw the first celebrating crowd, Elizabeth began to suffer flashbacks of Rapture. So when a much-needed client came calling, she'd hastily hurried Booker out the door and climbed in bed.
"Elizabeth?"
"Hmm?" Turning back to the door, Elizabeth finds Booker standing in the doorway, "Yes?"
"Table's ready… you alright?"
"Umm… yeah, I'm fine." Stepping up to the door, Elizabeth nods as she steps past Booker, "Really, I'm alright. So what's on the menu?" As the waiter leads the pair to their table and as dinner is served, Elizabeth finds herself smiling more and more, the weariness and aches no longer on her mind.
The sun's well set by the time Booker and Elizabeth return home. Leading his dead on her feet daughter up the stairs, Booker chuckles as Elizabeth rests her head against his shoulders; she'd nearly fallen asleep as they finished up dinner, and Booker had called for a carriage the moment they stepped out rather than try and walk Elizabeth home. But now as they come up to the top floor, Elizabeth begins to stir, her eyelids fluttering as she wakes.
"You awake now?" Booker asks quietly as she yawns, Elizabeth nodding after a moment.
"Yeah…" Looking around, Elizabeth blinks and smiles sheepishly as as she realizes they'd returned home, "I remember climbing into a carriage… did I fall asleep on the way home?"
"Sort of, yeah. Had to help you up the stairs, but that's about it."
"Thanks…" Yawning again, Elizabeth steps away from Booker and continues up the rest of the way on her own, making the third floor without so much as a stumble.
"Don't push yourself, you had a long day. Here," as she turns to face him, Booker fishes the apartment key from his pocket, "I'll go pick up Anna from Ms. Pearl, go lie down. You look like you need it." But Elizabeth shakes her head, pushing his hand away and turning down the hallway to Ms. Pearl's home. "Alright, if that's what you want…" Chuckling, Booker follows his daughter until they reach their neighbor's door, he knocking a couple times.
It takes a little while, but light flickers to life inside the apartment and the door cracks open, a sleepy looking Ms. Pearl appearing in the doorway. "Oh, welcome home. Anna's been asleep for a spell…" The door closes again, and both Booker and Elizabeth glance at each other; Ms. Pearl's been a little withdrawn since their visit to the cemetery, and to Booker it seems that it's weighing heavily on his daughter. She still happily watches over Anna when they have to leave the building, but Ms. Pearl has had very few words for them of late.
"Here we are…" Ms. Pearl's voice comes through the door again, reappearing with a sleepy Anna in her arms; Booker's little girl rubs her eyes as she yawns, and he can't help but grin as he glances between Anna and Elizabeth. Both look to be in the same state, though Anna seems to be falling back asleep while Elizabeth's waking slowly, if the smile spreading across her face is any indication.
"Thank you, Ms. Pearl…" Elizabeth beams as Ms. Pearl hands Anna over to her, happily taking her little sister, "Have… have you been well?"
"Oh… I suppose." Ms. Pearl shrugs as she answers, looking down at the floor for a moment, "I've been rather out of sorts lately… the dinner I cooked up for the holiday took a lot out of me, dearie." The older woman raises her head and looks first Elizabeth, then Booker in the eye, "Well, have a good night, dears." With that, the door closes ever so slowly and shuts without so much as a sound, Elizabeth heaving a sigh as it shuts up tight.
"That was… odd." Whispering as they start back down the hallway, Elizabeth hugs her half-asleep little sister to her chest, "What do you think she means by that, anyway?"
"What?"
"About that dinner she mentioned." She keeps her voice low and even, but Booker can tell she's worried about something, "I don't believe she has any family…"
"Who cares?" Picking up his pace as they come up to their apartment, Booker fishes the key from his pocket once again, "She wants to make a big deal of the holiday for herself, that's none of our business."
"But… Booker, I'm worried about her."
Breathing a sigh, Booker steps into the darkened apartment and makes for one of the oil lamps, the room soon lit up by the flickering flame. "It's none of our concern, Elizabeth…" As he turns, Booker falls silent as he sees the worry in Elizabeth's blue eyes. "Alright, what makes you think there's something wrong?"
"Um…" Looking away, Elizabeth turns her attention to Anna for a moment as her little sister stirs, a sigh coming from the baby girl in her arms. "Well… first, there are the pictures by her bed. One's turned facedown and has been for a while. And she occasionally looks like she's about to break down and cry." Elizabeth steps past him as she whispers, making for Anna's room as she lays out her concerns, "Then I saw her at the cemetery… she was there to visit someone, but she wouldn't say who. After that… she'd started to become more and more distant… I mean, she's still kind and warm, but I can't help but feel like there's something upsetting her. Now she made a Thanksgiving dinner for just her?"
Listening to Elizabeth and following her into the other room, Booker nods as she lays Anna down in her crib, both of them watching at the baby girl for a time before backing out of the room. "Alright…" Booker moves to take his seat once the door is closed, lighting the lamp on his desk as he goes, "I guess that's good enough reason to worry."
"Thanks a lot." Elizabeth scowls, and Booker holds up his hands in surrender, silently admitting she's right. "Anyway," shaking her head, Elizabeth takes a seat on Booker's desk, "I wish I knew more about her. Can you tell me anything from when she'd first moved in, or anything from before she became your neighbor?"
"Never had a reason to ask." Leaning back in his chair, Booker stops for a second, "Hold up… you saw her at Green-Wood? When?" Elizabeth had gone to see her mother on a handful of occasions since he'd first brought her there, something which Booker had only accompanied her on the first time.
"The morning after our… my first visit."
"Hrm…" Rubbing is chin thoughtfully, Booker glances up at Elizabeth again, "Ms. Pearl moved in sometime in January, but she rarely left her apartment. Hell, I don't even remember speaking with her until a couple months later. She kept to herself, even when she was cleaning the apartments."
"Oh…" Elizabeth's gaze falls, her expression falling with it, "I… I really want to ask what's wrong. But I don't want to come off as prying or meddlesome…"
"Listen, Elizabeth." Booker sits up and puts a hand on hers, "It's still none of our concern. If she wants privacy, it's best we leave her to it."
"But-"
"If it gets worse…" Booker holds up his other hand, forestalling her objection, "Then I guess you could ask, but don't be surprised if she gets riled up by it." With that, Booker takes his hand from Elizabeth's.
"Alright…" nodding, Elizabeth heaves a long, tired sigh, "I won't say anything for now, just-"
A cry comes from the other room, silencing both Booker and Elizabeth as the sound of Anna in distress reaches them. "No, let me." Elizabeth slips off the desk as Booker tries to stand, touching his shoulder as she grins, "I'd like to talk with Anna before heading to bed, alright?" Booker watches in silence as Elizabeth disappears into Anna's room, only climbing to his feet once the door closes behind her.
"There's something more eating at her than just Ms. Pearl…" Muttering to himself as he steps up to the window, Booker rests his arm against the window frame as he stares out at the city. Evening had passed not long ago, and there's still plenty of activity on the streets below, but Booker can't help but yawn; he's pushing himself just as hard as he is Elizabeth.
Shaking his head as Elizabeth's humming drifts from the other room, Booker focuses his thoughts on dinner; when he'd mentioned the missed holiday, she'd smiled even though her face otherwise fell. Something about it was getting her down, but what? "Maybe it's because I missed it? Or maybe I'm pushing her too hard…" Booker shakes his head again; she looked as if she was remembering something… dark.
"Guess I'm going to be ignoring my own advice…"
"Good girl, that's it… sleep tight, Anna…" Elizabeth smiles as she backs out of the doorway, easing the door shut as she watches her little sister. She'd had a nightmare, and Elizabeth found herself humming Anna's favorite song to calm her enough to go back to sleep. It still amazes Elizabeth that Anna's favorite song is 'You Belong To Me', but it always warms her heart when her little sister falls asleep in her arms.
"She just had a nightmare, Booker." Turning to her father, Elizabeth finds him standing at the window, beside his 7th Cavalry medals.
"Good…" His voice trails off as he turns, Booker crossing his arms as he comes to face her, "Elizabeth, what's wrong?"
"Huh?" She blinks, Booker's question not making any sense, "You know what's bothering me…"
"Not that." Booker breathes a sigh as he shakes his head, "At dinner, you looked unhappy when I brought up the holiday…"
"Oh. That…" Clasping her hands together, Elizabeth steps slowly from the door, "It's nothing, really… just… it brought up some unhappy memories when I saw those people on Thanksgiving…" she shudders as she recalls them, and Booker steps closer as she does, "they reminded me of Cohen, and Rapture… all those masked Splicers…"
"… I'm sorry, I didn't know." Stopping at his desk, Booker breathes a sigh, "Truth be told, I never cared for the holiday myself, but you seemed to be looking forward to it…"
"I was, but then I started having these flashbacks…" Elizabeth winces, just recalling the flashbacks leaving her pained. After a moment, she takes a breath before continuing, "But I'm fine now…"
Booker watches her for a moment before breathing a deep sigh of relief, returning to his chair and sinking into it, "Good… there's just one more thing then. C'mere."
Stepping closer as Booker pulls open a drawer, Elizabeth wonders what else there could be; they're both tired, she mentally and physically exhausted, so what else could he have to ask?
"Elizabeth, you might be needing these," Booker rests his hand on the desk, a pair of metal objects sitting in his palm and shine in the lamp light, "if we're going to be working together."
The objects look like four metal rings in a slightly uneven row, a narrow length extending maybe half an inch from the center rings only to connect to a wider length nearly as long as the line of rings. Her eyes widen as she realizes what she's looking at, and the meaning catches her by surprise.
"Brass knuckles?" Tearing her gaze from the weapon to look Booker in the eye, Elizabeth grins as she gives him a questioning look; she'd read about these in her books, but she never would have imagined she'd receive something like this as a gift, "Not something you'd normally give your daughter, is it? Does this mean…?"
"Yeah, but only after I'm sure of one last thing." Still holding the knuckles, Booker closes his fingers around the weapons as he rises from his chair. Circling around the desk, he comes to a stop beside her, "It's time to see just what you've got left."
It doesn't take a moment for Elizabeth to get his meaning, and her smile disappears, "Do I have to?" Booker only nods, drawing a sigh from her, "Alright… I don't think I have the EVE, but I'll try." Holding up her hands, Elizabeth takes a deep breath before calling on the last vestiges of her time in Rapture.
Cold air swirls around her hands at a thought, ice forming to encase her delicate hands completely, emanating a chill colder than the weather outside. After a moment, spikes of ice burst forth from her flesh without causing pain or harm. Aside from Booker wincing at the sight, he speaking up after a second, "Still have Old Man Winter, that's good…"
Dismissing the icy Plasmid and nodding, Elizabeth turns her focus to the next one. But nothing comes to life, no green glow shrouding her hand and no willowy, spectral woman swirling around her fingers. Try as she might, all Elizabeth's left with a headache from trying to call on Possession. Nor does anything happen when she tries the Vigor she'd found in Columbia, though Elizabeth can't help but feel a touch of relief when her fingers don't start to dissolve into a mass of black shards under the effect of Ironsides. "No Possession or Ironsides…" Leaning on the desk, Elizabeth manages the words as she groans.
"Is that it? I thought you had a fourth?" Glancing back at Booker as he asks, Elizabeth nods despite herself.
"Peeping Tom, yeah…" Screwing her eyes shut, Elizabeth imagines herself invisible, hoping that when she opens her eyes she's anything but; the Plasmid had been immensely helpful, but she's not sure she wants to be able to see anyone through walls again.
But when she opens her eyes again, all she sees is Booker wearing a lopsided grin. Looking down at her hands, then herself, all Elizabeth finds is a shimmer where she should be. But something's different, "Booker, I can't… 'see' you like I should." Sweeping her gaze around the room, at the floor beneath her and in the direction of Ms. Pearl's apartment, Elizabeth finds herself puzzled, "Or anyone else, for that matter…"
"Huh? What are you talking… oh. Huh…" Elizabeth drops the invisibility as Booker scratches his head, "So I don't show up?"
Shaking her head, Elizabeth breathes a sigh, happy that she's done with this, and that the strange 'sight' granted by Peeping Tom seems to be no more, "Maybe… maybe it has something to do with ADAM? But I couldn't see you... maybe I lost something…?"
Both father and daughter fall silent; they both know what she's referring to, Booker having suffered through that nightmare as well, thanks to the nightmare. Two weeks in that room…
The thought sends a shiver down her spine as she feels that pick along her eye again, and Elizabeth shakes her head to clear the horrific memory. "W-what about you, Booker? Did you find anything else besides Devil's Kiss and Sh-" she hesitates as she says the word, Booker glancing at her curiously as she does, "er, Shock Jockey?"
"No." Booker brings his hand up, and Elizabeth involuntarily takes a step back, wondering if he's about to show her. But he seems to think better of it, instead retrieving the brass knuckles from his pocket.
"When did he…?" Wondering as she examines the pair of knuckles in Booker's hand, Elizabeth's struck by how tiny the look compared to him. Makes sense if they were meant for her, but she still can't get the image of hollowed out coins from her mind.
"So, does this mean we're partners again?" She flashes Booker a smile as she slips the knuckles onto her fingers, finding them a little loose but not too badly so. She almost misses the grin that crosses her father's face, Booker heaving a sigh in a vain attempt to cover it up.
"Partners." The grin returns despite his efforts as he offers Elizabeth his hand. But she ignores it, wrapping her arms around him and embracing Booker warmly. A chuckle rumbles from deep in Booker's chest as he hugs her back, Elizabeth feeling it as much as hearing it.
"I think I'm going to enjoy this." His chuckle becomes an outright laugh as she mutters just loudly enough to be heard, Elizabeth smiling when he nods.
Lying in his bed, Booker stares up at the ceiling as he takes another slow breath, glancing Elizabeth's way once more. She'd fallen asleep the moment she lay down, a smile on her face still with the light of the waning full moon on her like a spotlight. Their beds are side by side these days, and have been after the first few nights of Elizabeth having her own bed; she'd told Booker afterwards that she'd become accustomed to sleeping beside him, and had trouble sleeping on her own.
But that's the least of his worries, and Booker turns his thoughts from the recent past to the near future. "Partners, huh?" Muttering the words, Booker wonders if there's anything he need do for this to go without a hitch. "She'll stick out in anything but a dress… but she'd stick out even more in that gym suit of hers…"
Dresses and skirts could and probably would trip her up if they need to run through back alleys and the like. "I'll have to take her shopping… well, there goes those savings…" He'd intended to buy her and new dresses, but November had been a dry streak, and they'd had to pinch their pennies to make ends meet.
"Now it is December… hope she doesn't have any bad memories for Christmas… paid in advance for a tree." He'd missed the last holiday, and while it may have been for the best, Booker has good reason to come through on Christmas; this'll be Anna's second Christmas, and Elizabeth's first since coming home.
"Guess I better try and get some sleep. We're going to have an early start, whether we like it or not…" It's still early, Booker glancing at the watch on his desk; the hands read 8:10, the two of them usually still up and about at this hour. "Maybe we can sleep-"
A loud knock comes from the door, Booker jerking upright even as he bites back a curse. But when Elizabeth moans and her eyes flutter open, Booker growls as he climbs out of bed. "It's late! If you're the door-to-door type, so help me…"
"Booker DeWitt?" A woman's voice comes from outside the apartment, "I need someone found. Apologies for calling so late, but I couldn't find another time that I wouldn't be… interrupted."
"A case?" Elizabeth asks quietly, groggy and yawning as she sits up in bed.
"Yeah. I'll take care of it… or not…" Stepping away, Booker frowns as Elizabeth climbs out of bed. Heaving a sigh, Booker whispers as Elizabeth comes up beside him, "Seems we got your first case, guess it's only fitting that you come along."
Author's Note: So there you have it, Elizabeth has her first case and finally figured out which Plasmids she still possesses. This chapter's been more of a transitory chapter, but I still hope you enjoyed reading it. Thanks for reading, and as usual, I'll be making small changes here and there should I notice a need for it.
Oh, and for the record, Thanksgiving was celebrated on the last Thursday of November up until FDR changed it. Also, my description of Thanksgiving's celebration in New York wasn't made up; I'm doing a lot of research into the era, and this got a laugh from me when I found out about it.