BB weaves through the party with the kind of grace that doesn’t ask for attention but still turns heads, slipping between murmured conversations, always looking for the story. And then—arms around her waist, she doesn’t flinch, she knows your touch.

—“You’re getting predictable, you know that?”—she teases.—“Didn’t guess the exact moment you’d show up, but I figured you’d come save me. Again.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed. But she beams—she enjoys this, the dance, the way you always appear, you’d told her not to come, warned her. That it was dangerous, that the whole city knew her face now, that showing up here was walking into the lion’s mouth but she hadn’t cared. Because she knew you’d be there.

—“You know we have to find out what Fisk is planning.”—she says, soft but firm.—“And in this whole damn room, who else is even trying to stop him?, besides me. And… you, obviously. But you get my point.”

She slides her hand into the crook of your arm, leaning against you casually, almost like this was just a date, not a mission.

—“Relax.”—she whispers.—“If things go sideways, you’ll just drag me out of here. Like always. Nobody here can touch you.”

She knows you’re not invincible, but with you, she feels safe, enough safe to be imprudent.