as_damaged | ☎ voicemail

"You might be right."

She's not thinking of Eden at all, suddenly; but of all the things the City does, all the times when maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to tote a rifle. Cameron's more the nonviolent type-- part and parcel of what she is, what she does; she heals, she doesn't harm. But self-defense... is an area she's neglected, as a sheltered circle-queen, and here it's even more vital than in the bad parts of Jersey.

"She had to be stopped. They didn't-- she's all right now. Or at least, she's back to herself." All right is a whole other matter; and not one she wants to get into right now. Co-workers here might not be the odd pseudo-siblings they are at home, but she's not going to spread Eden's private issues around. Everything she's said so far is a matter of public record; anything more would be gossip.

If Cameron's interested in lessons, Cindy's oddly willing to become a teacher. Of course, she'll never give out all her battle secrets, just a few that both won't cast a suspicious eye on what her extra-curricular activities might be and teach Cameron to hold her own.

Nobody said actual princesses and social queens couldn't learn to kick ass.

"I wasn't talking about her." Really, Cindy wasn't. As long as Eden was dealt with, the girl was no longer important to the conversation. The injured party was for purely curious reasons. He technically is really her co-worker as far as Cindy knows.

"Had my hands full dealing with the patients. I don't know anything about magic... I do know about blood loss." She drains the rest of her glass and nods at the bartender when he offers another.

"From everything they said--" everything Chase said, really, but she'd rather take the focus off him-- "it was nearly instantaneous." Picking at the pretzels, Cameron pauses. The City has a knack for making her feel inadequate; she's always hated being the damsel in distress.

"Pepper spray is probably a pretty weak place to start here, though." She smiles a little, embarrassed at her own thoughts.

"Gotta give something for efficiency. In and out."

She's not going to say this, but she'll keep an eye out for them Eden girl. If there's one thing Cindy does is protect her fellow Fables; the few Mundies she has oddly come to care for in this City also fall under her protection watch. If Eden acted the fool once, who's to say she won't do it again, this time to somebody important to Cindy?

Cindy makes a noise of refusal to Cameron's suggestion. "Pepper spray is for useless princesses who don't want to get their dresses dirty. You..."--and this line is proven to be an honest opinion by Cindy studying Cameron from head to toe--"...need something better. Unexpected."

Like a gun, but Cindy thinks Cameron might shoot herself in the head by mistake. Maybe learning how to kill a man with her shoe is a better bet.

"Such as?"

That's an honest question, she could use the advice. The thought of buying a gun has crossed her mind, more than once. Though it would certainly provide some measure of safety, she's not entirely comfortable with the idea. More than she might have been before the City, before sharing the clinic with a former gun-runner. Still. Something less ballistic would be preferable, if only because she'd feel less ridiculous. Defense is one thing, lethality is another; Cindy might kill a man with her shoe. Cameron would settle for simply making sure he stayed down long enough for her to get the hell out of there.

"Guns. Knives. Tactical batons."

All have been Cindy's weapons of choice at one point or another. Nobody expects the well-dressed lady wearing four-inch stilettos to have a five-inch hunting knife strapped to her thigh and that she knows how to use to her advantage in a fight. Maybe Cameron wouldn't be comfortable with a weapon like that, but a little Walther PPK wouldn't be too bad for her.

"Of course," Cindy pauses for another sip and a pretzel, "There's always the physical defense tactic option."

She grimaces slightly. Working the clinic she's seen the end result of all these things and more-- guns most of all, here and at home. Cameron isn't convinced she could shoot anyone. She'd like to believe she couldn't, though in a life or death situation... Better not to let it come to that.

"I'd prefer... maybe taking classes, or something. Less weaponry, more physical. Martial arts. I don't know."

Cindy thought the same thing at one point. All she wanted to do was live peacefully in Fabletown and then Bigby got a hold of her and she got a hold of a gun and she changed her tune right quick. A good gun is just as important to Cindy as a good pair of ass kicking boots.

She leans closer to the other woman, dropping her voice a few decibels. This offer is new for Cindy as far as Mundies go, but this isn't Fabletown and well, stranger things have happened here. Let this be her good deed for the next three centuries. "Why pay for classes when you can get the lessons for free?" Cindy's smirking at Cameron to see exactly how she takes that question. It's an offer and a test in one; Cameron has to have a part of her brain that isn't chock full of medical crap to figure out just what Cindy means.

It's not entirely a surprise; after all, by the sound of it Cindy had filled her own apartment with holes when her father showed up during a curse. A fact that had been in the back of her mind since the conversation veered this way; if nothing else, Cameron had suspected the other woman would be able to point her in the right direction.

She leans in as well, looking faintly surprised. "You'd do that for me?" Cindy's nothing if not a shrewd businesswoman, and this is a generous offer. Really, she's flattered.

Business is business and pleasure is pleasure. This is pleasure. "You have anyone better to go to?" Cindy laughs. Really, call her cocky, but Cameron couldn't have a better teacher. "I have time. I can only sell but so many shoes before the boredom and the weight gain sets in. You learn how to take care of yourself and I drop a few pesky pounds."

Granted, Cindy has never been one of those princesses who spent most of their time in staring in the mirror worrying about excess body fat, most of all because she spent most of her life avoiding mirrors because of what was staring back at her, cinder dusted face and all. But out of shape is out of shape and even she has to admit that she's gotten lazy with the drought of missions here.

"I'm not going to go soft on you." That's more of a promise than a warning. Get the ice packs and bandages ready.

She laughs a little. "I wouldn't expect it. Nothing worthwhile is easy." If there's an undeniable truth in Cameron's mind, that's it; conscious and subconscious. She wouldn't expect any less; at the least, she's in decent shape to begin with, if not as strong as she could be. Will be, she hopes.

"I'd like that, though." She smiles a little, turning to take up her glass, rolling the stem thoughtfully between her fingers.

"Well then. Tomorrow, five sharp, my place."

Yes, Cindy knows doctors don't exactly run on a nine to five schedule or even a set schedule to begin with but really in this place, who's going to die just because Cameron stepped away for a couple hours? That's right, no one. They'll be back to bitch and moan tomorrow.

"Be dressed to impress, doll," Cindy grins as she stands up and drops a couple of coins on the bartop on her way out. Dressing to impress is a choice of learning how to take a man's eye out with your fingernail either in heels or more normal workout footwear of sneakers left up to Cameron. Cindy, as always, will the the always fashionable shoe fiend she is dressed in red.

The blood blends in better that way.

☎ voicemail

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