Feeling restless was pretty common for Felicia. She ended up bored easily and her brain seemed to need constant challenges, her body always moving. She hated "downtime" and taking it slowly. Slow was a pointless waste. She could be patient when she wanted to be, spending hours on stakeouts and waiting for a target, but that didn't mean she enjoyed every second of it.
It was always easy to disappear into the night. With her skills and actual catlike abilities, breaking and entering was easy, but not always practical. Her face was barely covered and the catsuit was hugely impractical with its lowkcut front, skinny heels, and mask that did nothing to obscure her identity. It was what she had known for ages and had become part of her, but maybe that wasn't always the best thing. Maybe she needed to wash herself of more parts of who she used to be and look to who she needed to be now. Clinging to the past, familiarity, had never done her any good and often led to more hurt than anything else. But with this newfound.... thing, maybe she could adopt a new persona. Or add to the new one. Or something.
But old habits died hard and when she came across a box that seemed to call to her, she couldn't help but bring it back to her apartment. She never took from people who didn't deserve it or couldn't afford it was how she justified her actions. Mayhbe it was a really twisted version of Robin Hood, in her own way.
She pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail and slipped into the costume. It's a newer one, more practical and suited for darting from rooftop to rooftop and slinking through security systems. Out with the old, in with the new, adopt and adapt. She might miss the old suit, sometimes, but the new one works just as well. She's covered from head to toe -- which, admittedly, takes some of the fun away -- but it's more armored and protected now. The fur being gone helped matters as well. A simple barely there mask was replaced by goggles that still didn't do much for the 'secret identity' thing, but it was better than some weird thing sticking to her face. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how silly it had all been. She carefully placed the old suit into a box and buried it in her closet, under shoe boxes and shopping bags to make it blemd in, and kicked the door shut behind her.
Maybe, she thought, she was growing and changing in some way. Maybe. Or maybe she was putting too much thought into adopting this new and practical look where she didn't just rely on luck to stay alive. It played a part, but she certainly could keep protecting herself better.She rocked onto her heels and then her toes and examined her figure in the mirror, twisting and turning this way and that to better examine it from all angles. Still form fitting, still curvy. still black and white, Still her. An evolved version of herself, perhaps, and one that could rely on skill and not just using her appearance to throw people off.
Felicia was more than that and sometimes struggled to see it in herself. She could play cool, confident, and comfortable and act perfectly at ease in her own skin. And, really, she was that... most of the time. But a voice in the back of her head sometimes wondered why she felt the need to play that up. Maybe it was voices like Peter that rang through her head, reminding her she was more and better than what she was doing, that she was smart and clever and she could still be attractive no matter how she looked. Maybe she was tired of relying on that body-ody-ody solely? Perhaps.
Felicia rolled her neck and looked at her reflection again, rubbing her neck with her free hand.
It didn't take away from her sense of self, she realized, or that she liked being seen as sexy and attractive and desirable. It was just a new way of portraying that that could fit into her somewhat new identity.