[ The guys in the gang call her a variety of names: The Fed, Raleigh's girl; Mako doesn't remember when it became Raleigh's old lady, only that it did, and she liked the guys as well as one can like the people they're about to betray. She liked Raleigh much, much more, and hadn't started to mind when he, when they call her that. It's respect, he tells her one night, when he kisses her and she takes him in her arms. It means you're mine, and I'm yours. He'd smiled the sweetest smile and Mako feared she was lost.
And so when Raleigh calls her the Fed, Mako doesn't flinch, doesn't react even as warning bells go off in her head, a clear sign that this doesn't feel right even if there's no one else in his apartment but them.
Going undercover, after all, takes a specific sort of person with nerves of steel and a special sort of grit, and Mako had a generous amount of daring to go along with it. She bit the bullet and the rap for the gang when a drug deal went south, getting herself fired and thrown in for a two year jail team before getting expelled back out on the streets, back to Raleigh.
I'll take it.
No. It's far too dangerous for you, Mako; we talked about this.
I can get to him, I know how. Let me go.
To them, she'd earned her stripes; of course, others would argue that she had it easy, that she was fucking Chau's VP to get to the top; but it was never that easy -- if it was, she would his whore, not his old woman. She ran with him as an equal, bold and fearless; Mako Mori got the job done, picked up smoking, learned the taste of pure cocaine, to differentiate when dealers were fucking with her, and she learned to kill -- she did everything the men did, and she did it better.
And it's this Mako Mori that comes back into the apartment, plucks the untouched cigarette from his fingers and taps the ash out before taking a long drag. Have a good day at work? There's no possible way he would know; she was careful, and she'd never once left any tracks (or had she?).
Cigarette dangling between long fingers, she smiles briefly and heads over to the fridge to get herself a drink. ]
I didn't go to work today. I thought I told you. [ She plucks out a can of beer, and shuts the door with a bump of her hip. ] Did you just wake up?
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And so when Raleigh calls her the Fed, Mako doesn't flinch, doesn't react even as warning bells go off in her head, a clear sign that this doesn't feel right even if there's no one else in his apartment but them.
Going undercover, after all, takes a specific sort of person with nerves of steel and a special sort of grit, and Mako had a generous amount of daring to go along with it. She bit the bullet and the rap for the gang when a drug deal went south, getting herself fired and thrown in for a two year jail team before getting expelled back out on the streets, back to Raleigh.
I'll take it.
No. It's far too dangerous for you, Mako; we talked about this.
I can get to him, I know how. Let me go.
To them, she'd earned her stripes; of course, others would argue that she had it easy, that she was fucking Chau's VP to get to the top; but it was never that easy -- if it was, she would his whore, not his old woman. She ran with him as an equal, bold and fearless; Mako Mori got the job done, picked up smoking, learned the taste of pure cocaine, to differentiate when dealers were fucking with her, and she learned to kill -- she did everything the men did, and she did it better.
And it's this Mako Mori that comes back into the apartment, plucks the untouched cigarette from his fingers and taps the ash out before taking a long drag. Have a good day at work? There's no possible way he would know; she was careful, and she'd never once left any tracks (or had she?).
Cigarette dangling between long fingers, she smiles briefly and heads over to the fridge to get herself a drink. ]
I didn't go to work today. I thought I told you. [ She plucks out a can of beer, and shuts the door with a bump of her hip. ] Did you just wake up?