We ain't normal [V/Isaac[

“So you’re tell me, two of my men had their arms broken by a broad with bunny ears, and, by your words ‘really good legs.’”

Isaac had uttered those words hours ago to some low level grunt who was in his crew, who was currently nursing a broken nose and seemed lucky to have just that. It appeared that some of his more brash men had conducted themselves poorly in some business, which resulted in what could only be described as a ‘battle bunny’ working them over sending them back to him in less than prime condition. It was the type of story you thought drunk men told their bosses to cover for a more awful fuck up.

However, Isaac’s men were not the type to lie to him. Those consequences fair outweighed the verbal abuse he might give them or extra work load. So he heard their stories and set to finding this mysterious woman, not quite sure what he’d do. While he could ignore it outright, there was something strange about it. Maybe it was just some level of amusement in seeing a woman kicking ass with bunny ears like out of a bad playboy story. Nonetheless, some inquiries where made and he soon found a woman matching the description.

She was hold up at a local hotel and from there it wouldn’t be too hard to find her. Isaac would have approached her wearing a long overcoat and a turtleneck while wearing his trademark spectacles. To most, he looked like the average jewish man and not an enforcer of a criminal Organization. With two men at his side he’d approach the sitting woman at the park, before taking a seat across from her at the bench. His hand came up to adjust his glasses before speaking.

“I do not think we’ve met. I’m Isaac Samuels. I believe you harmed some employees of mine earlier today. I’d like for you to share the details of that encounter.”

Despite his cool demeanor, it was clear he wasn’t leaving without some explanation.

As she speaks he doesn’t take his eyes off of her, instead he reaches into his jacket inner pocket. Callous fingers would remove a gold cigarette case opening it up as he placed the cigarette in his lips. One of the men with him was going to light the cigarette while he placed the case away. His own hand going to remove the smoke after a drag, exhaling through his nose as he looked at the unique woman in front of him. He could feel the power radiating from her, it wasn’t false bravado when she spoke.

This was a woman who was brutal, and dangerous. Despite the bunny like features, it was more akin to sitting with a pitbull simply waiting to lash out. Maybe his perception was wrong, but that was what he got from the small moment in front of her.

“My men should not have attempted to mug you. That was unbecoming of us, and not generally something I approve of. They’ll be dealt with. Thank you for this information.” He wasn’t told that bit of information, perhaps they had simply forgotten to mention it with the pain they where in. Or maybe she was speaking out her ass. He’d need to investigate further in the future. He ignored her threat as he crossed his leg.

“You look capable. Strong. Are you freelance? I always work for people who know how to conduct themselves.” It was too the point, not wanting to waste either of their time. She seemed the type to not like the sweet talk, or fluff. “I rather not have my men put into the hospital again, if you plan to staying in town awhile.”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to be.”

He’d remark as he leaned back in his chair, his left leg crossing over his left. His left elbow resting on the armrest of the public chair, meanwhile the same hand would reach upwards to the cigarette as he took an inhale. He’d remove it from his mouth as smoke slipped out through his mouth, listening to her as she spoke. Notably, his right hand was laid across his body in a relaxed position near the opening of his coat.

When she spoke of a punk girl and her family, his eyebrow raised. There was a chance that she could be referring to that Vanetti girl he was doing business with now. It wouldn’t be too far of a jump, considering all things. But best to not poke that. He merely listened as his men seemed to keep their heads on a swivel.

“Gangster. I suppose that’s what some call me. But I am a businessman, I just-” He sucks in a breath between his teeth, his hand holding the cigarette gesturing about. “-happen to be in a volatile market.” He’d offer a smile to her, before taping the end of the cigarette. She seemed prideful to say the least, but interesting. A worthwhile contact.

“I like to have one hand free at all times. Lighting a cigarette tends to take both up, so I have Solomon here light it for me.” He tilts his head towards the thin man who seemed to be turning his gaze around and about, entirely unconcerned with the details of the conversation between his employer and lady.

“So, Bunny Lady, you know my name. Care to share your own? I admire your….Hutzpah.”

His head tilts to the side slightly as she speaks, his face maintaining the calm neutrality that was incredibly hard to read. It was unnerving to some especially when in a business where reading the opposition was often useful, but right now one thing was clear: Interest. So as she spoke he’d listen to everything she said, only occasionally bringing the burning tobacco to his lips to take a puff. Each time the smoke leaving his mouth slowly, his eyes taking in every detail of her from her muscle definition to the small mannerisms to which she spoke with.

He was perceptive. He knew she was strong on a glance, maybe even a hot head. But she wasn’t stupid. Neither was he. She was interested in what he had to say, or at least him as a whole. That's why she didn’t threaten him more, or simply get up. Curiosity was a bitch.

“Alright, V.”

The face of neutrality broke as a smile seemed to come onto his lips, a small mundane thing that looked almost too normal. Just by his clothes and glasses alone he looked more akin to an average joe or some two-bit middle class worker. If it wasn’t the for air of danger which followed him and the muscle surrounding him, it would be hard to tell just how involved he was with the criminal world.

“People have been asking me, why, a lot lately.” He’d remark almost in retrospect, his gaze moving from her to the park behind her. His hand would come to adjust his coat. “I suppose at one point in my life I might’ve been able to go to college, get a degree. Go on the straight and narrow.” He’d muse with almost some fondness, before the smile on his lips seemed to fade ever so much.

“A million injustices happened to me, V, for me to end up on this path. Poverty, discrimination, being born in the wrong place. The system was rigged from the start.” His gaze would turn towards her, a stark seriousness to his eyes. The type of seriousness that spoke to a deep hunger that resided within the man, a ferocity and genius that landed itself to this wicked world he was involved in.

“So the reason I started down this was because I needed to. But why I keep going, why I do this wicked thing that I do, is a lot more complicated.” He brings his hand to the ashtray which was on the table putting out the cigarette, uncrossing his leg he leans forward to place a hand on the table. Green eyes with hints of yellow seemed to look into her own, probingly searching for something.

“I’ll tell you this though, and listen good, ain’t no man or beast alive that I’ll ever be slave to. That type of freedom, that’s the shit worth dying for, you know?”