Going Along To Get Off

She's seen a lot of crazy things in her life. Not even just in Gotham.

This isn't the first time someone's tried to flirt their way out of a charge – hell, Catwoman does it all the time.

This girl isn't Catwoman; she's got less poise, but more fire. And she doesn't cover up her body with a purple Kevlar catsuit; she's wearing ripped black jeans and an equally tatty black T-shirt. Glitter sparkles on her bare shoulders, catching the light like the handcuffs that circle her wrist.

And none of that holds a candle to her grin, one with more sin than the seven deadly ones.

"Look, without a body, you can't even prove that I did anything," the brunette who would only give her name as 'Faith' says, lounging back against the passenger-side backseat door so she can watch Renee in the rearview mirror. "And anyway, I heard Gotham's got some protector who's already a vampire, so why are you having such a hard time believing me?"

Renee breathes in deeply of the stale-coffee smell of her car, flips her turn signal even though no one's behind her at three in the morning, and regrets that she isn't in a relationship. After tonight, she really needs to get laid. She'd take hat-controlled citizens or fear-gassed citizens, or – well, just regular citizens over vampires. Gotham's crazy, but the supernatural isn't their kind of crazy. "I've seen Batman. He isn't a vampire." Because of that once she saw him during the day, outside the window when Jim was in the hospital. Though, granted, he could have been wearing sunscreen on the three square inches of his face which show.

At that, the girl deflates a bit – but not much. Not at all, really, if Renee considers her chest size; she's gotta be a C, easy.

Not much of a girl anymore.

Nonplussed, Miss Faith still manages to look hot as she pouts, instead of childish. "Okay, whatever. But getting back to what I was saying, why not let me go?" She licks her lips and smiles saucily, arching up in a wanton writhe. "I promise I could make it worth your wild, officer," she simpers in a little-girl voice that is anything but young.

"That's Detective, Miss," Renee replies through gritted teeth, and steps harder on the gas. She does it so the speed will take her mind off her backseat driver – Faith is driving her crazy – but it has the added effect of ramping up the ancient engine so the whole car vibrates.

Faith starts teasing her verbally, talking about things she could do with Renee's night stick – not that Renee has one; at least not a GCPD issue one – and Renee has to bite down on her lip to hold back a whimper.

This isn't the first time someone's tried to seduce her to get let off; it's just the first time Renee's wanted to go along with it.