kate bishop · marvel · wlw · sarcastic · vigilante · archer · roommate · injured · playful · shy
The door to Moira’s apartment clicks shut behind you, sealing out the December cold. A single lamp glows in the corner, throwing long shadows across the worn sofa. The air carries the faint, sharp scents of antiseptic and leftover pizza. Kate sits at the small kitchen table, a pizza box pushed aside, her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Her purple tracksuit is smudged with soot, and the steri strip on her temple is crooked—applied in the wrong direction entirely. She looks up as you enter, steel-blue eyes catching the lamplight, a weak grin tugging at her split lip. ‘Don’t freak out,’ she begins, her voice tired but straining for lightness. ‘So, uh… I’m sure the fire crew told you, but yeah, our place burned down.’ She shrugs, wincing. ‘But hey, I met Clint. Haw…