Okay this is also for @drawingnumberoneandtwo who I just told I didn’t have time to do this…
She should just keep on walking, the puddles splashing beneath her feet as she drags herself back from another bust of an interview. When’s your boss comin’ darling’? and I wanted a reporter, not his secretary. Still, Cat had interviewed the Senator’s secretary instead and got herself scoops enough to be in print every day for a week. Her landlord would appreciate it, if nothing else.
It’s a grand apartment all the same, even if three floors down there’s a slightly seedy bar. Usually by the time Cat drags herself home from the Planet’s offices, the last call brawls are spilling out into the alley. She has one foot on the fire escape up to her place when she hears something new, something softer and sweeter than the blaring brass that usually comes out of the bar’s doors.
It’s curiosity that leads her in, no matter what it did to her namesake. She slips between swaying men in their less-than-sharp suits, and the working girls looking to make their own rent before morning that are keeping them company with whiskey and sodas.
“Who’s the dame with the pipes?” She asks, flagging down Susan at the bar. Cat’s usual is poured without her having to ask, the bourbon welcome after a long day. She takes off the fedora she swiped from Clark at lunch, shaking out her pin curls. “She’s better than you usually have.”