playinginsand | (no subject)

(no subject)

The first thing about patrolling in the 'new' Gotham is the skyline, Tim has found. The earthquake and subsequent abandonment mean that not only is the skyline utterly changed, the strength of any given wall is no longer reliable. More than once tonight he's had to stop himself becoming strawberry jam by a last-minute grapple, when the roofs he'd hooked gave way.

The second is, of course, the city below him. It's quiet -- eerily quiet. The sound of a car engine is a magnet for trouble, and who has fuel to spare anyway? Winter is approaching and with no heating and no lights, it's going to be a hard one.

Of course, that also means that voices seem louder, noises echo longer. The scrape of a hook on gravel, the rapid footsteps of a running woman, the scream of a --

Wait. Scream?

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Oh, well, if it was an accident.

The meal is soon over -- too soon, really, but not even Leslie's Bat-augmented supplies are limitless. 'Al' leans back in his chair comfortably -- and for the first time, his hat tilts far enough back that his face isn't utterly in shadow. (THIS IS POSSIBLE IN COMIC BOOK WORLD, HUSH.)

He's wearing a domino mask.

Leslie has disappeared quietly, either in anticipation of this or simply having better things to do. Tim is preoccupied with watching the newly-acquired Stray eat and checking up on everything around them to notice that he's losing an element of concealment.

The Stray has finished her meal and is nursing a very warm, very dark cup of coffee right now, looking around the place as much curious as she is content at the moment. At his movement, she glances over before returning to her inspection.

...and then blinking and looking right back at him.

With an incredulous smirk.

"Oh, you have got t'be kiddin' me."

"Uh?" Tim is smothering a yawn, and glances back at her sleepily. "What?"

Totally innocnet.

"You're one'a those grande idiotas," she accuses, half-laughing, half-irritable. "Heroes, chasin' after the Bat and tryin' t'hump his boots, s'that why you went after me? Tryin' t'get all your merit badges or some shit?"

Tim looks at her blankly for a moment, and then realises what she's talking about -- and laughs, wholly amused.

"Something like that, yeah. What, you seriously thought some random stranger woulda helped you out've that?"

Maria's brows lift, her coffee set aside so she can lean back in her chair, arms crossed and smirking. "You think you're th'first guy that's tried t'save poor l'il helpless me from a group'a vatos like the ones tonight? Why you think I was willin' to waste my bullets on you, honey? Gangs do not like heroes."

"I am, actually, aware of that." He shrugs, slightly embarrassed, gaze back on the table. "It wouldn't have been a problem."

Gangs tend to avoid the kind of heroes who show that they can actually fight.

Of course, neither the gang nor the Stray have yet to see him fight.

Maria just rolls her eyes at him. "Yeah, whatever," is muttered as she reaches for her coffee.

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