Foxglove's Managed To Avoid Getting Arrested So Far So Clearly She's Doing Something Right Ahahaha - Tumblr Posts

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Vigilantes were trouble, that much he’d learned ever since he first donned the mantle of Black Mask. There was little to admire about any of Gotham’s self-appointed pests sticking their noses into business that didn’t concern them but a rare few did catch his eye from time to time, whether it was because they worked alone or had very different ideas as to what being a vigilante meant. Foxglove appeared to be of the latter sort, a maverick who fancied herself a lone wolf. Roman found that very interesting, interesting enough that he’d actually sought her out first instead of the other way around. Quite the unorthodox method considering his usual preference of keeping a low profile until it was time to act, Roman hummed thoughtfully while studying the woman who, by all rights, should be an enemy he’d want neutralized before she could establish her roots in the city, threatening his inevitable climb to the top... but why cut his losses before they’d even had a chance to cultivate a deal between the two of them? Unlike her holier-than-thou counterparts who flapped about at night, the rumors surrounding Foxglove were decidedly less... savoury. Sure, she appeared to prefer keeping her head down but she wasn’t afraid to get her claws bloody either. At best she preferred avoiding unnecessary conflict, including those she saw as threats. A catagory in which he’d clearly been included. Smart woman. Now that he’d actually spent a little time talking to the vigilante however, it was plain to see there was more to Foxglove than first meets the eye. Her body language was guarded, shielding her personality like her visor shielded her face but some things couldn’t be concealed so easily, specifically the way she spoke. "Your accent... I’ve heard a lot of people talk while living here in Gotham, but I haven’t heard many who speak like you.” It was more of an observation than stating fact, Roman narrowing his eyes as he peered down at the twitchy woman. He wasn’t about to say he expected her to be taller, but the way she spoke interested him almost as much as she did. His parents, always thinking themselves so much better than the working man deplored what they perceived as common tongues, but the frank, honest way in which such people spoke had always been something he preferred over the pretentious airs and graces he’d long associated with his peers.