Cohost writing prompt: @spy-thief-assassin-who — Thief who is never working with the villain again
Kira stalks through the pressure door onto the darkened bridge and freezes as, with a languid kick, Magistrix Paramount swivels the big plush captain's chair to face the door, running her hand tenderly along the bonelessly purring Siamese in her lap.
"Get the fuck out of my chair," she grates, hating the vulnerable underbelly of it: that she truly expected, on some level, for her submarine, the boundary of her space, to be respected. But there's the lesson, isn't it, the truth: you don't involve yourself with supervillains, because they never respect shit. "And put my cat down."
Paramount looks taken aback. (A little hurt, Kira's brain supplies, and she privately sneers at herself for imagining things, and for caring.) "Admiral Nemo came and sat on me herself—"
"Put my fucking cat down."
The supervillain looks at her, wide-eyed, and does her best to scoop a liquid armful of passively resistant cat off herself onto the floor, where Nemo stretches, gets up, and leaves in disgust at her interrupted adoration.
"Now get out of my chair, off my submarine, and go fuck yourself," Kira says.
Paramount chews her lip, and slowly stands up. "Are you leaving?" she says meekly, which makes Kira want to strangle her.
"I'm not one of your underlings," she says sharply. "You needed something stolen, I steal things, I should have — I'm only still here for bad idiot reasons. Fuck you, yes, I'm leaving."
"I didn't mean—" Paramount says, meeker still, and Kira has to consciously lower her balled fists.
"Fuck. You," she says. "What part of international jewel thief and independent operator and not one of your fucking underlings says to you that you can casually assume I'll hop on a double-oh's dick to distract him for you?"
"I didn't—"
"Don't you fucking gaslight me, girlboss," Kira warns, and Paramount twines her hands together, staring at the floor, and whines.
"I ddn't mean to make you angry," she says.
"Firstly, fuck you. Secondly, that's not something you can just assume people will do for you. Thirdly, fuck you, fourthly I'm an obvious raging lesbian, fifthly—"
"Wait, you are?" Paramount says hopefully.
It takes several audible ticks of the console clock for Kira to unlock her clenched jaw.
"Do you mean to tell me," she says, in a terrible snarl that comes from deep within, "that you ordered me like one of your minions to jump on a cock because you can't read a fucking Pride pin—"
"Listen," Paramount says, "don't go. Nemo likes me."
"Sure, the cat does," Kira rumbles dangerously. "They have this new thing for eliciting information, which you apparently haven't heard of, it's called asking fucking questions—"
"I have a vision," Paramount says. "The globe at my feet. Every world city that ever crossed me in flames: Tokyo. Moscow." Her lip curls, darkly. "Liverpool. I recline on my overlord chaise, relaxed yet alert. At my side purrs Admiral Nemo."
"You're not having my fucking cat—"
"In my lap purrs a larger, more dangerous, more beautiful cat...burglar." She peers up through her lashes.
"How fucking stupid do you think I am," Kira says, trying not to picture it.
"Tell me more about these bad idiot reasons," Paramount says, a little pointedly, and undoes the top button of her cardigan while maintaining eye contact.