capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

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WHO: The

standaloneshell
WHERE: City rooftop #29106
WHEN: Monday night
WARNINGS: Batman
SUMMARY: A wild Major appeared...!
FORMAT: Whatevs

It had become seamless now, Batman's patrols. They were carefully plotted to allow him to cover as much of the City as possible in as little time as possible, with the imaginable hotspots and escape routes taken into consideration. And now he could all but navigate them with his eyes closed.

Four paces. Jump. Eight, then jump again. Grapple gun to fire escape and ascend. Be careful not to step on the cat...

This wasn't Gotham and he wasn't about to forget it. But even so, it was an environment he was growing comfortable to operate in. Comfortable and confident.

Scary thought.

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Batman found himself instinctively seeking the shadows though he knew there was little point in it. He hadn't known what it was at the time, but he was rapidly growing accustomed to the additional attributes the Porter in her dubious wisdom had bestowed upon him.

"I didn't expect you to have enough incentive to stay," he replied gravelly.

"To tell you the truth, I have no incentive to stay anywhere in particular."

At least the city was full of interesting challenges. She'd had enough of 'boring' and 'inexpert' to last a lifetime— not that fortune ever favored the weary. At this rate, the so-called 'Joker' would probably stand her up on the bitchy little faux-date she'd half alluded to, whenever that plan came to fruition.

"Did he ever show?"

"The Joker is insane, not stupid." Bruce had had more than enough experience with Gotham-brand insane to know just how far the gap between the two could be. "Neither are you. You should know he can't be bargained with."

"Hm," And it's almost a pleased sound, coupled with the way she turns her head a little to look back at him, taking in his stance and position in a glance. The switch to IR vision yields more information so she leaves it running in a subwindow of her vision.

"Maybe not," Maybe you just aren't willing to deal in his currency. Or maybe what she'd actually been doing had had as much to do with the Joker as with flushing Batman out where she could poke at him, "Though I suppose that depends on your definition of 'sanity.' Are you going to warn me away, now?"

"He doesn't like other people playing with his toys." Batman was the only currency when it came to the Joker. If he were the derisive snorting type, he'd be doing it instead of staring back, icy cold despite the flaring red of his lenses. "Humoring anything you had to say was his warning. I'm not going to waste my breath."

"That's fine," she agreed mildly and turned away again. His gaze pressed a psychosomatic itch between her bare shoulder blades, which she ignored with auditory acuity at its maximum sensitivity. Capes were noisy things.

"Since you have no intention of issuing another warning, was there some other reason you decided to interrupt my evening? I wasn't under the impression that you engaged in social visits, by choice."

A dry, nasty amusement tinged his response. Not that he found anything particularly humorous about the situation. "This isn't a social call."

It was more of a double-take. A second glance. There were things a scan through his personal communications couldn't tell her and that was quite how relentlessly curious Batman could be.

It's a strange world, this or any other.

"Then what— an interrogation?" She frowned, watching a pickpocket making his grab. Easy success and subtle— he wouldn't realize he'd lost his wallet until he attempted his next purchase. Not worth bothering with.

"You might be disappointed."

"I doubt I would need to interrogate you if you knew anything of value to me." He replied sardonically. "Am I keeping you from something?"

And that was a clear challenge, to prove she had intel worth sharing. A painfully simple gambit, more like an insult and for a moment Motoko's gaze sharpened, though she didn't turn so he could see it.

"No. But you're the one who approached me, so the I'm forced to assume that you had a reason for that."

"Just passing through."

It wasn't a lie.

She'll just give him a look. It isn't the truth, either, and she's not in the habit of divulging personal information for the sake of random rooftop skulkers.

And she will never call him 'Batman.'

He turned and skipped, remarkably quietly for a man of his size, onto the lip of the building and peered down into the street below.

"Why are you so eager to make an enemy out of me?"

"I suppose I must be antagonistic by nature," which wasn't a lie, either. She was just playing the Devil's advocate, really.

Or maybe there wasn't a reason at all, nothing she could point to. Hadn't she once said, 'My ghost will whisper to me'?

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