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"Uh-huh," Isaac said from behind her. "Cathy, you're a strong fighter, but there's two kinds of people come to places like this at night: predators and prey. And it's...bad...when the two happen to meet in the dark. You can think you're one thing, but you find out at the worst possible moment that you're wrong." He sounded worried. Which was not Isaac's usual frame of mind.

~*~

Catherine grinned, first inwardly and then openly, listening to Isaac’s cautious pace following her own brisk gait. And finally took pity of him, so fiercely determined to not ask questions, but so obviously devoured by a nagging, mounting curiosity. Let alone by a wary alertness that made him start at every unusual noise. That is, practically each one of the countless sounds that punctuated the quiet of the late hour in the unlit surroundings. When the dark, narrow path widened enough to allow her friend to walk beside her, she smiled up to him and said “Yes, Central Park is also [i]this [/i]wild, yes, I’ve been here at night before, and no, I’ve not lost my mind.”


--

or the scene before is too short to change scene already?

~
The only things I would change are the words "enough" and "troubles." Make it "trouble," and make the phrasing read, "well enough," and the line runs perfectly smooth.

~*~

Isaac pressed his palms together, looking up at Catherine. He said, "Would you tell him that Lucy needs a friend right now? One she already trusts. And tell him a friend of Jason Walker needs some answers...if I'm gonna be much help in the days ahead." Calm as can be, he concluded, "Word on the street says there's a storm brewing. And I think it's aimed in Vincent's direction."

*
She stood, took a couple steps, turned to face him. “Okay. I know you enough to trust it’s [i]really [/i]important.” Her countenance plainly showed that it meant troubles if it was not. “What message?”

.
[i]
<ducking> I know I'm not up to it. That's the meaning I want to convey, make it smooth, please?[/i]

Isaac held her gaze. "Mm-hm," he said at last. "Complicated."

*
Her eyes widened, and she stared at him. Aretha Franklin’s distant voice filled the silence.

.

He smiled grimly at her. "Okay then. Yeah. And my second thing is about to make this more complicated. I need to get a message to him."

*
“Isaac… it’s… complicated.” She shook her head. “Yes, he’s safe. Thank you for your concern. Know that it means a lot, really.” And she quickly continued: “You said [i]two [/i]important things?”

.

Isaac let the silence play out until it started to feel oppressive. Then he said, "Well, I've never gotten hit by a car, but I do know what it's like to go down in a fight. That's the kind of hurt that tears up more than a man's body. And the physical part's plenty bad on its own." He managed to catch her eye. "As you know." She nodded. "I've been hoping you got him home safe. And that he's stayed safe since then."

*
“He… he’s doing well,” Catherine replied. “More or less,” she added. In the suspended silence that followed, Isaac could perceive the wish to say more at war with whatever it was that kept her wary.

.

He nodded, accepting her opening. "First thing I've been wondering. Whether he's doing okay after surviving...that night. Can you tell me that much?"

*
She side glanced him, while drinking with slow gulps. Mopped her mouth, recapped the bottle, put it down. In her eyes, when she looked at him, a vigilant trust. “I listen,” she said.

.

"I'm not asking questions," Isaac said, keeping his voice calm and gentle. He knew that Catherine's secrets were exactly that: Catherine's secrets. It was always dangerous to brush up against another person's secrets. So he kept his words as plain and straightforward as his lessons to the crime victims who came to him for help, trying to say between the lines: [i]I am no threat to you and yours. No threat, Cathy. None.[/i] He told her, "I just want you to know that I've got two important things on my mind right now, and you're the only one I can talk to about it." He stopped speaking and watched her think.

*
He could see her eyes become wary, while her whole body tensed. Still wiping her neck and face, she looked away to reach for her own bottle of water, then dropped her towel, and carefully removed the cap. Buying time.

.

Isaac set the sports bottle on the bench between them and looked Catherine in the eye. "It's about your friend," he said. "Vincent."