Kate had a knack for annoying people, getting under their skin and capitalizing on that once she could sense it in the air. Or they told her off. There was something in her that loved to be contrary, that loved poking the bear and never stopping because the bear allowed her to poke it. Robert's tension was blithely ignored because he'd offered coffee, dammit, and he better deliver before kicking her out. You could make fun of Jesus but you best not take coffee's name in vain!

Kate followed along, even gave his butt a high five before hopping up onto the counter next to the coffee maker. Her hand's memory hadn't forgotten what a tightly strung little bum it was. "What could I possibly want from you, Robbie?"

"I don't know," and as annoyed as he was, she did have something he wanted. It was such that the tightly strung demon found a place between her legs as she settled onto the counter. Her knees were spread by the width of his hips. Hot water was thinking over the whole 'act of boiling' bit.

His chin lifted up, just by degrees, "What could I possibly give you?" He wished, more than anything, that he hadn't tossed that cigarette away.

There was a brittle edge to his words, showing his hand and conveying his annoyance with her presence, or maybe just her questions (why split hairs?) but Kate only smirked, wedging herself further into her comfort zone. Knees spread wider around his hips before closing in with a sure grip, helping to keep him just there as pale eyes traveled down and then up, slowly. "Seems like you wanna give me the D, Robbie." Nimble fingers found their way under his shirt (even if they had to tug it free from his pants) to draw random, fleeting patterns with feather-light touches against his stomach. "Or is this how you serve coffee to all your guests?"

"I don't." But he did. One of his hands caught her behind a bent knee, drawing it in closer so that her pelvis tucked in nearer to his. That didn't bother him. That he was wanting and unreliable was far less bothersome than the fact that she knew it, that her tongue played around it. That her hands had already untucked his old blood red shirt from his pants, allowing her fingers to spider out over his flesh.

Lips rolled inward to wet them before they curled, knowing and enjoying it. "You don't serve coffee to all your guests this way? Or you don't want to fuck me?" She was being coy, openly so, since he was the one pulling her legs tighter around himself, ankles hooking to lock him in place. Palm rested against his solar plexus, fingers splaying wide while fabric bunched over her wrist. "Tell me what you do want, maybe I can make it happen."

The hand that gripped her leg stayed exactly where it was while the other moved, catching the handle of the cabinet and draw out two coffee cups. Her hand was over his heart, his shirt catching up around her wrist. Was this a fire she played with because she knew Roach and thought it would be safe? The empty coffee cups sounded hard and hollow on the counter top.

"Just making a cup of coffee for a friend." Her ankles locked around him, his hand encouraging her to stay. Tell her what he wanted. His eyebrows ticked upward by degrees, "Maybe you can." Reflecting the phasing she had used and then taking a glance down to his shirt. His free hand moved away from the coffee cups to undo his shirt?s buttons so that to splayed open in the front instead.

A man with his eye on the prize - something Kate could respect. She noted the sounds of the two mugs coming in contact with the counter, even if she didn't spare it a glance. She could multitask, too. Drawing in her legs, an inch was lost between him. Heat pooled between them while she canted her head. "Oh, we're friends now? My my, how I've jumped up the social ladder." Pale eyes dropped to his hands while they freed each button, displaying more skin; leaned back to enjoy the show. "My kingdom for some singles," flashing a wide smile at him, thoroughly the moment. The thud thud of his heart beat steadily under her palm where it remained fixed in place.

"I would say I was a bit of a pariah and that this more likely a downward fall than a climb." Admitted without a smile, though there still seemed to be a sort of humor in it.

He's pale and there weren't many marks to distinguish him beyond the scar that cut up and along his midsection. Four inches long and seemingly surgical. Beyond that, no speckling of moles or funny shaped birthmarks to behold. Just that skin. The hint of his recent cigarette smoke and then the tell-all smell of him. Robert couldn't control what he smelled like, or that it was more intense when he was anxious, exhausted, or aroused. Copper and cinnamon, the sort of things that burned and tasted like blood. Kate didn't know him well enough to know it was his 'tell' as opposed to just being him. As an illusionary demon, he could have hidden it. Robert just found less and less need to hide things, lately.

His right hand made some adjustments to the coffee pot before it was flicked on. Water grumbled, the machine was working on it.

His voice, low and husky, washed over her with the scent of coffee and cinnamon, a tang of something metallic just underneath. Made her nose crinkle slightly while a fingertip traced the length and breadth of the scar glinting dully over his sternum. "Lucky for you, I don't care what other people think." Lips pursed thoughtfully while studying the scar, tapping it twice. "How'd you get this? I thought demons were supposed to be epic bad asses or something, have powers. Who managed to stick it to you?"

It was closer to the area of his ribs more than anything. She mentioned demons being badasses and it caused him to smile, against his better judgment. One hand pressed to his side and then he looked from it to her and gave a small shrug of his shoulders, "The blade of a Nephilim is a bit sharper than your average knife." In truth, Robert was lucky to be alive at all. Plenty of demons had died from less.

His answer wasn't full of all the details she might have wanted, which may have been a polite way he had of not wanting to get into it. His hands folded at her bottom at the counter, nudging her hips a bit closer to the edge of it and into him. Seemed he was about to lift her right off of the counter. Coffee started to drip into the pot, a hot, hollow rain punctuated by the strong smell of coffee.

Kate was no doctor, don't ask her to name body parts. One side of her mouth tipped higher in a slanted smirk, a reflex of his smile. "I don't know what the blade of a Nephistopholes is or what it does. They other demons or something? I'm giving you a chance to save face here by saying they were way more powerful than you." So magnanimous. Steam rose at her elbow; skin prickled and tightened, a shiver dancing along her arms. Fingers hooked into his waistband to tug him flush against her. "You haven't told me yet what you want." Their mouths were inches apart, sharing breath, swallowing words. "Right now. From me."

"They were," a simple explanation from someone who wasn't even pretending to want to roll around in its details. They drew each other in tighter and he knew his needs, his wants, his judgment, all of it was winged and altered by the contract. It left him feeling so... wanting, all the time. Like a drug, he was left feeling, wanting, thinking that Lizzie was some sort of answer that he needed. When she was close to him the feeling mounted and lately it had all started to feel rather inevitable.

Away from her, he was left in a state where logically he knew they didn't want each other, but always there was a nagging want somewhere in his mind. It was the same want that had the undeniable evidence of his interest in her pressing against him while her spread legs pushed him in even closer. "Did you know about the contract?" His left hand skimmed her arm, moved up and gripped a fistful of her hair, "Did you know what it does to me before you came here?"

Kate lived upon her whims and want was a frequent visitor in her home. In this place and time, she wasn't in the habit of denying herself if an opportunity was dry humping her in the kitchen. They were both willing, nothing else mattered. She could taste his restraint on each warm breath, needing to test it, the compulsion too great to resist. "They were. You were. That's not you now, though, is it? Hiding in your museum." Fingers closed in her hair and Kate hissed, spine straightening to maximize resistance as the pressure on her scalp sent a shudder racing down each limb.

"What contract? You and Roach got something going on?" That should be all the response he needed to know she didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Fingers curled to press her nails into the pale canvas of his skin, leaving behind red crescents. "Is that why you're holding back?"

What he didn't like was feeling coerced. Kate wasn't doing it directly. The weight of the contract hung overhead but he didn't know what it meant, only that it pressed him and made everything she did feel exactly right. What Robert knew of himself was that on a normal day his interest in sex would have been more in passing and that riling his interest took more than a scarce promise and being wedged between a woman's legs.

"We're a little wrapped up in something, you could say." More importantly, Kate hadn't come there to take advantage of the fact that his mind was affected, that he was likely to gleefully fall victim to suggestion. She'd come for her own interest, and even if it was just for sex, it wasn't because she was preying upon what little restraint he had. He could respect pointless sex more than he could exploitation. "We're not a thing, if that's what you're asking."

No, she reassured him that he wouldn't break her, no guarantee the other way around. Sometimes, she could get a little carried away but that was part of the fun, right? The not-knowing what would happen during or on the other side. It was the spice in her life. Kate was purring, now, but pushed his away gently once he reached for her pants. "This is one of my favorite shirts, let me get everything off for you." Make sure her clothes survived the journey.

First to come off was her belt, followed by the fingerless leather gloves encasing her palms, as well as the arm cuffs and bracelets bracketing each one. There were quiet jingles of metal against metal as they piled up on the counter and lastly was the metal cuff encircling her bun, keeping her hair caught up high on her head. It unwound in fragrant waves, the scent of her shampoo filling the space, layering over the coffee to bring up memories of cozy mornings spent nestled inside while it rained or snowed. Lent an air of familiar intimacy to it, as if they were old friends catching up after a long separation.

Slithering to her bare feet, she was considerably shorter than before by at least four inches, maybe just clearing his shoulder. The additional ties on the inside of her top that were undone with simple tugs. Edges hung loosely from her shoulders, gathered without direction, baring a hint of sternum, the flash of a belly button. Closing the distance between them, palms settled on his chest and urged him backward until he bumped into the nearest table. "I'm even more fetching without anything at all. Now lay back. The full girlfriend experience means no furniture is spared."

He was backed into the picnic table with bench seating was what his body met and ended up sitting down on. He drew his elbows back, catching the top of the table as he looked up at her. Something about him, about the moment, suggested restraint. It was in that blood-twist of cinnamon in the air and the knit of his jaw muscle. He'd watched every link of metal lift off her and the way her body moved, intentionally sexy or not, as she placed each piece on the counter. Her undone top trailing over her chest, the hardened buds of her nipples.

Robert had been waiting in line to be pleased, allowing others to cut ahead of him while he sourly thought it over. Being a good boy never had served his favor. Seemed he was more intent on himself and whatever it was Kate called the 'girlfriend experience.' His torso was in a slouch, his hips caught on the bench seating, elbows hooking backward and anchoring him between both. "There's quite a bit of furniture."

With a grudging smile, she managed to get his shoes off though it wasn't nearly as graceful as his technique. Got the job done, though. With a shrug of her shoulders, fabric slid down her arms to pool on the floor while she straddled his lap, shins resting across the bench seat, settling her weight on his thighs. "That's alright, I planned on coming back for the coffee, anyway." The puckish air about her suggested there was truth in that statement - he might come into his kitchen at any time to find that Kate let herself in and helped herself to his stores.

A contented sound escaped her as her torso met his, his skin warm. Fingertips fanned over his lips, pale eyes resting there as she traced the shape of his mouth. "Let go and let Kate," she murmured, meeting his eyes with a lopsided smirk. "Tell me what you want, what you like." Demon or not, Robbie struck her as the type of guy to put himself last, like it was the type of behavior he was used to from others. Kate wasn't so cold or distant that she couldn't sense it and felt like she could do him a solid in this way. One 'friend' to another.

Robert Liked a very particular coffee that was within walking distance of the museum, somewhere in the market. He bought it by the bag and on occasion, he would spice it with some cinnamon when it was brewed. Her interest in his coffee was defendable, even if many would have still scoffed at it. Being that he ate and drank little, Robert was picky about what he did consume. That coffee, in particular, was to his liking. He wasn't sure that Kate truly preferred it or if she was giving herself license for a second visit, and second helping, of him. There was no complaint for that.

Her clothes were starting to melt off her. Robert's skin was warm to the touch. She had begun to settle on his lap and then, with absolutely nothing coy about it, ask what he wanted.

Robert was, by design, interested in the tantric, in the tease and in the delay. In many ways, he was a voyeur, watching and waiting for his blood to boil over before he could be aroused enough to make a move. Lately, with Roach and the contract and? everything else, he had been repeatedly teased and unsatisfied and now somewhat impatient for penetration. It was unlike him and slightly irritation because of it. She wasn't asking that, though. She was asking what he wanted, what he liked.

"I like to watch a woman masturbate," chin lifting up when he said it, not shy to admit it but continuing, "I like to see her hands move, how they know her body. The speed and rhythm of her orgasm. I like to watch how she likes it and then...to copy it. You could turn around right now on my lap and show me." It sounded like a challenge, one delivered without arrogance.

While he pondered, Kate buried her face against the side of his neck to breathe in deeply, thinking she'd never look at a cinnamon roll the same way again. Tasting copper on the back of her tongue, Kate only grinned to herself and slid her body against his, nipples hardening with each teasing brush that cascaded sparks down her spine. Her palms roved aimlessly, greedy to learn the contours and planes of his back and ribs.

It was almost endearing, the way his chin lifted, daring her to mock his fantasy or deny him now that she put the offer out on the table. Daring himself to say what he wanted without shying away from it. Kate wasn't shy in word or deed, felt she was doing others a service in being up front. Lips twitched but she didn't allow the smile to bloom. "I like where your head's at, Robbie. Always best to learn from the source, I respect that sentiment. However, if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right. I need a mirror. Maybe a real chair might be better, too."

She was unexpectedly on point and it was arousing, which he showed by the way his head tilted at her and there was, momentarily, the bite of his lower lip as he rolled the details over. His gaze eventually went to the ceiling where his bedroom was overhead.

It was not the sort of bedroom that seduced women, he knew. But there was a full-length mirror mounted to the door and a chair nested against the desk he wrote at. All the necessary tools to make the first time detail rich and visible.

"I don't have a problem with that. My room's upstairs." Robert lived in a way akin to that of a kid in college. He had his own bedroom which was also his office with a bathroom door next to it. The space was not luxurious and the bathroom had a standing shower stall and facilities. This was not the decadent set up of a playboy millionaire. It was a medium sized bed with a stitched quilt, the sort which never screamed 'fuck me here.?

To direct her, he nodded at the kitchen doorway, "the staircase is in the middle of the hall." Kate might very well be the sort that wouldn't feel naked, anyway, strutting down the hall of a museum and mounting the stairs, knowing Robert would watch every step as she climbed up.

She was really going to have to bring him back to her place some time because it would forever amuse her to fuck a demon in a church. Christianity had to be explained to her upon her purchase of the building but any sort of perversity that stuck a middle finger to deities was a good thing in her book, didn't matter much which god it was.

Up to this point, Kate was barefoot and topless, black pants contrasting sharply against her pale, unblemished skin. Slithering backward, she found her feet and unbuttoned the pants, turning away as she did so. "That works for me." There was no waiting demurely for him to show her the way, she sauntered out of the kitchen, shedding her pants en route with a manner that spoke of a practice perfected over time so that she didn't stumble over the fabric. Pausing at the foot of the stairs, she twisted to glance over her shoulder and make sure Robert was watching before ascending. Hips rocked back and forth, sporting a Cheshire smile.

He's a strange sort of gentleman, gathering up her clothes as she removed them. Carrying them, loosely folded. They walked past a room of exhibits to reach his doorway, his hand pushing around her to unlock the door before they stepped in. Their clothes were dumped atop his desk as he heard her shut his bedroom door behind them with a click.

The amusement of fucking in a church wouldn't have been lost on him. It would have been one of those special, smiling moments he so liked to avoid.

Focused upon her objective, the minutiae of his bedroom was lost to her and she wouldn't have cared, anyway. Leaning on the door, Kate waited for Robert to catch up in order to close the door behind him. Gave him a swat on the ass just to watch his skin redden momentarily. "Drag the chair in front of the mirror, if you please, and then have a seat."

The room was not enormous and the mirror was mounted to the face of the door which led to his bathroom. That made in suitable because the door opened into the room, allowing the mirror to angle. He caught the knob and turned it. The arrangement ended up being that his bed was against the opposing wall, his desk with their haphazard clothes at his left hand with his back, the back of the chair, to the wall. There was a small walking hallways of space between the side of the bed and the wall where the bathroom door was housed. Now that the door was opened, it angled perfectly to where he was sitting. The light of the room came from a modest lamp crouched on his desk at his left.

This was all performed with the neatness of a surgery. Once seated his belt buckle unlatched and his pants and boxers pools down at his feet before the side of his ankle swept them away. His nudity revealed no surprise tattoos or additional story-worthy scars but the one her fingers had tip toed along in the kitchen earlier.

Clinical. That was a good word for Robert's attitude going into this. For all the gentle seduction laid down in the kitchen, it seemed that climbing the stairs had sobered him some and now this was just something to be done. Kate liked a little more life in her catches than that. Ready to see if she could jolt him into a less controlled response, she couldn't help the chuckle as he sat and removed his own pants.

"You are greedy, Robbie. You gonna let me have any of the fun?" While she spoke, Kate circled the chair a few times, sizing up her prey, trailing fingertips across his chest and through his hair just to get him used to it. See how he reacted, if at all. The angle of the mirror was checked during her rounds and Kate stopped her circumambulation to move it a few inches this way and that until she was satisfied that the angle was perfect. Turning around, mirror at her back, Kate smiled and bit her lip.

"Next time, I get to unwrap the present, yeah?" glancing down at his pants and then back to him. Delicately, her knee touched the seat of the chair between his thighs, careful not to accidentally castrate him. Palms curled around the sides of his neck and along his jawline, tracing the curve of his lower lip with the pad of her thumb. Searching hazel eyes, Kate arched a brow down at him. "Are you sure you want this?"

He could get like that, but it wasn't Kate's fault. The root of how they connected to people was similar enough-- they expected connections with other people to be temporary with limited emotional involvement. It seemed to be for the best to do it that way. That didn't diminish Kate, though, who still simmered with the want to digest someone, even if she was consuming everything but the heart.

"It was going to be ladies first, of course." For most of the touching, he was calm as if they were playing a game where the loser was the one who broke their calm. Who would blink first? When her fingers went through his hair, though, he shut his eyes and his exhale left him, an unavoidable display of finding it pleasurable.

Present. The use of the word made him smile, the nearness of her knee causing his posture to improve, increasing the space between her knee and his groin even though the threat hadn't landed on him. Her fingers searched him and it is then that it occurred to him to reach up and touch her. His hands began at her ribs, his fingertips placed in the nearly invisible notches that were more prominent under his fingertips than by his gaze. His gaze is up to hers with the certain, emphatic beat of, "Yes." The truth was, he wanted it, that he was feeling a little maddened by the nagging desire for a lover. The situation had been complicated, it still was complicated, but that didn't change the fact that he'd beaten his need into a cage and it only now, hesitantly, came limping out. Life had been about refusing himself this pleasure, he was hesitant to believe that the opportunity was real and that Kate didn't intend to turn and walk out that door, smirking at him over her shoulder.

Nah, Kate hadn't known that she helped break something up, no clue about vows given and then broken because Roach had been plenty willing and lacking hesitation when she and Kate went at it.

The presence of the dog startled Kate and her legs drew against her body when he came a-sniffing, looking warily at the animal and then flicking her gaze to Robert. "He live here?" The demon wasn't alarmed so she glared at the dog for getting one over on her but didn't push it away. "Don't even think about eating my apple, dog," muttering to the canine before holding her hand out for a cigarette.

"Takes one to know one," was her jovial reply. "Nice-ish, that is. I mostly look out for number one, that being me, but every once in a while, I like people. It ain't no thing," downplaying her affection for her friends lest it be used against her. "What's it like, being a demon? I thought you guys were supposed to be all... rawr evil."

"His name is Troy. He... does, for better or worse." A motion of his hand. The medium sized mutt with the coarse hair reluctantly left the side of the interesting, new stranger, for Robert. When the dog reached his side Robert turned the end of his nails to the top of the dog's head, giving him a scratch through the wires of his hair. It wasn't unlike Robert's, really.

He leaned forward, giving her the cigarette he lit up and took a drag from. Filter pointed to her, of course.

"I would say most people do a good job of caring for themselves." He said it with the voice of someone who thought of it as the rule and not the exception. When she asked him what it was like being a human, well, the query felt a bit preposterous. How was he supposed to know what being was like? It just was. He supposed, though, what she was really asking was what he was about, what he felt. What it was like being him.

"I am, technically. There is the fall of Lucifer and his followers. Then the ones like me, born here on Earth, feeding on humanity one way or another. At the end of the day, that's our evil." There was a shoulder roll, "Some need blood, hearts and souls. I suppose that's upper management stuff." A motion of fingers flattened to make an imaginary horizon above his head. His hand dropped, chest level, "Then those who affect humanity, but not fatally... and..." a motion of another horizon, closer to the ground, "The ones so low and mindless they're hardly noticed at all. As far as humanity is concerned... yes, we're all evil to them. We're all cats evolved to eat the mouse."

He lit a new cigarette for himself and took it in heavily. There was another shrug, hazel eyes looking away from her, "My sort doesn't usually draw so much attention... things lately have been different, though."

"Troy," she murmured, eyeing the dog again once he leaned into Robert's affections. Troy wasn't excitable, wasn't wiggling and jumping and being invasive, just sort of...there. Not normally an animal person, she could chill with Troy as long as he didn't get too paws-y. Har har. "You think so? I've met lots of people that are absolute shit at caring for themselves. And no offense, but you might fall into that category. You were pretty fuckin' backed up, there, Robbie. Maybe your upkeep methods could use an upgrade."

The cigarette was accepted with a murmur of thanks before it was set to her lips, inhaling to make the cherry glow and when she exhaled, Kate leaned back to look up at the stars. His voice was relaxed, low, with some interesting touches of accent here and there on certain consonants - she tried to place it but didn't have much luck. Guessed it was a Hell language or something. "So you're like the mailroom guy of demons, then?" Grinning, she lifted her head, ashed her cigarette on the concrete.

"How do you feed on humanity? How have you been drawing attention?"

"Usually... being alone suits me." He admitted, another kiss of his cigarette filter as he looked at her. His exhale started, words following after the bulk of it had left his mouth, "Things will sort with Roach, one way or another and... I'll do what I do best, go largely unnoticed in a world too busy with taking care of itself to notice me."

There's a flicker of his gaze to her legs to show he notices their curves, cut from dark cloth and the evening. It's a moment that could be missed if she wasn't there to catch it. A cold, momentary appreciation. At the note of him being in the mailroom, he shrugged, "Basically." It suited him, though. It was hard to imagine Robert gleefully clamoring for a role of famous notoriety or limelight ambition. Backstage work suited him quite well.

How did he feed? "By being around it. Sadness isn't something I just need to be around. Like... breathing out carbon dioxide. I used to work at hospitals before this job. Now... I just linger at the cemetery a few days a week. That and some real food is all I need to get by."

Drawing attention to himself now... His chin lifted at the mention of it, his eyebrows pushing together, "I suppose you could say I've been promoted. This whole magic Roach thing." The cigarette like a wand, leaving a grey trail behind the rolling motion of his hand to say 'all of that.'

"Well I noticed you, so you're really fucked now." A big grin followed that, chin lifted to beam it at him. "I don't un-notice people, if that's even a thing. But seriously, you might feed on sadness and there's a shit-ton to go around in this place, if my junkie client base is anything to go on. There's no need to get all emo about it, though." Pausing for an inhale, she savored the flavor of it on her tongue and in the back of her throat, the way it lingered along with the taste of Robert. Smoke and demon were pretty complimentary.

"Seriously, I like being on my own and doing my own thing but I like being around people. It's...it's what it's all about, right? People?" Listen to her, getting all deep and saying real shit. The sex must have knocked a screw loose or something. "Not just for the money but all the other stuff, too. You could go off and live in a cave, watch soap operas for sadness but you don't. Also, you're ever hard up for some feeding or something, I got a real jewel for you. It's not... bloody or invasive, what you do, is it?"

A sip of her coffee pooled warmth in her stomach, the sweetness counteracting the acrid taste of the cigarette. "How did you land this gig?" motioning to the museum behind him with her smoke. "Doesn't seem like a lot of opportunity to do your thing. Not too many people go to museums to get their crying on."

"I can't," Robert reminded her with a touch of acidic, "not unless I want to die. I require humanity... and my life is spent seeing the saddest parts of it. I suppose we're coworkers. You make them and then I consume them. High five." Not really, he wasn't at all lifting his hand to do that, but sucking further on his cigarette. Robert was, apparently, couldn?t be unnoticed now by her and a handful of others. Was there any going back?

"No, I just have to be around people... when they're sad. They breath it out, I breath it in." Her little gem could be one suitable for him, or not. It meant most of Robert's exposure to humanity was at its melodramatic, wounded moments. People crying, people wailing. That was what he saw. No wonder he wanted no part of it and relished the quiet moments where that was not dominating his day.

"There were some people I needed to kill." His response sounded nonchalant. His hand cut through the air in that clinical way he had, "I lived in Seattle but there were leads in New York but..." a weak smile, "A demon like me needs a job that pays his rent. The first thing I could get was being a tour guide in New York. It was barely enough money. The curator liked me and then... unfortunately due to cancer, passed away." An emphasis on the cancer. Robert had not orchestrated that. "With those years of experience and a lead in Rhy'Din... it all just worked out that way. Osvaldo needed a curator... I was a curator. I needed to be here in a way people didn't notice and since museums go mostly unnoticed... it was more than adequate."

He stood up long enough to adjust his seat, bending forward so that he could move her ankles to his lap.

She held up her free hand, palm toward him in a stopping motion. "Whoa, tiger, slow your roll. I don't make them, I merely enable them. I don't put a stunner to anyone's head and force them to buy my shit, I just offer good quality at a competitive price. Not my fault if they want to smoke or inject their problems away. You stay here so you can live, I stay here so I can make money to live. Coworkers covers it just fine," giving him a crooked smile and an arch look.

"If it's money you're after, you could always work for me. If you need extras for whatever," shrugging a shoulder. "I got some odd jobs here and there that don't involve drugs. I dabble in a little bit of everything," wiggling her fingers around to indicate mystery. "You any good with numbers?" She ashed again after another drag off the smoke, squinting at him through it. "Did you kill the people you needed to kill?"

A brow arched when he stood and moved closer. Allowed him to move her legs into his lap because his hands were warm on her exposed legs. Kate pulled the edges of the robe together at the top of her thighs (though not for modesty's sake) and slouched a little lower in her chair. Rested her head along the back of it while keeping him in view. "Why do you work so hard to stay under the radar? What are you afraid of someone seeing?"

"Yes, I work as a curator because I roll in money for doing it." Ever the dry humor followed by a shrug afterward. No, money was hardly *the* thing he had to worry for. She offered him a job and all he could give her was a 'really?' look that spelled a heavy disinterest. Robert wasn?t about to crunch numbers for her operation.

"I don't particularly like what it feels like to be noticed." An answer with less fanfare than her suggestion. Something more practical added, "Someone like me gets killed when the wrong people notice." His hand spreads, running down her leg from the ankle to beneath the knee in a short spread of warmth against her flesh, "I suppose you feel I should aspire to more, to be more?"