Log; ongoing - Isolophobia

[is-fear-itself.livejournal.com]

WHO: Lynda Moss (hisforonehour) and Jon Crane (is_fear_itself)
WHERE: Raoul Duke and Lynda Moss's home.
WHEN: Backdated to the morningish of the 9th
WARNINGS: Nah it should all be good
SUMMARY: Jon comes by to visit Raoul, finds his roomie, Lynda, instead. Awkwardness probably ensues.
FORMAT: Para to start? IDK after.



Jon had taken to walking the streets of the City bundled up, covertly armed to an impressive degree, and scouted by a few crows or ravens who called out occasional all-clears, and treated him like a wingless member of their murder. He was exploring, mostly, with no aim but to expand his horizons and familiarize himself with the environment. So many long years in Gotham had made him complacent about streets and landmarks - he would have to relearn everything.

He stopped outside one particular building, recognizing the address as that of Mr. Duke the journalist, the one who had been a very odd mixture of deferential and accommodating, and smiled to himself. He took out his mask, warmed from its usual place in the inside pocket of his ratty trenchcoat, and pulled it on, taking a moment to fiddle with the rebreather and then heading up to ring the doorbell.

Why not pay a little visit?

Comments

[hisforonehour.livejournal.com]

Lynda had been snuggled in a chair, leafing through a tattered, old copy of 'The Cask of Amontillado.' She was already in her pajamas-flannel pink things with ridiculous sheep on them. After working the night shift at the clinic, she was beat. Lynda was completely tired. Her response to all this? Sleep. Sleep and get prepared for her waitress job in the evening.

But then, the doorbell rang. Getting up from the chair, the sleep deprived Lynda shuffled towards the door. It was probably somebody for Raoul. They normally were. Opening the door, she came face to face with a man in a rather scary mask and a very ratty trenchcoat.

Naturally, Lynda screamed.

[is-fear-itself.livejournal.com]

Well. After a week or so in the City, it was encouraging to know there were some sane civilian types whose reactions could be relied upon. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that her scream made his day.

"Hello," He said cheerfully, casting a quick look around the street to make sure there weren't any heroes about. In some neighborhoods back home, you could murder a person with thirty witnesses in earshot and nobody would do anything, and in some you couldn't jaywalk without getting arrested.

"May I come in? I don't want to have to hurt anyone." What he really enjoyed about these things was the improv.

[hisforonehour.livejournal.com]

Lynda took a deep breath, looking at the man in front of her. Oh God. He was wearing a mask. And this wasn't the 'hero' sort of mask that she had seen on the Network. This was the scary sort of mask.

And why was he being so cheerful? That had caught Lynda completely off guard. People weren't supposed to be cheerful when they were wearing a really scary mask like that! Any thoughts of greeting a guest in her pajamas went straight out the window.

"T-that depends. I can't let just anyone inside, you know? Private property and such." He was wearing a mask. Normal people didn't do that! "Wh-what's your name?" This had to be the Scarecrow person that Mr. Duke had mentioned-if only because she had no idea who this guy was.

[is-fear-itself.livejournal.com]

"I don't see why not, it would be a very wise idea..." Jon said, keeping his pitch pleasant, "Call me Scarecrow, my dear."

"You must be one of Raoul's friends. What's your name?"

[hisforonehour.livejournal.com]

At the name, Lynda perked up. Scarecrow. Mr. Duke had said to let him in. So...he couldn't be that bad. Right? She had to be right. "Yeah, Mr. Duke mentioned you. Come on in." Smiling slightly, she backed out of the way.

"Oh, I'm Lynda, by the way. Lynda with a y." It was a force of habit now. Besides, the Doctor had called her that.

[is-fear-itself.livejournal.com]

"Did he? How kind of him." Jon hastened inside as she moved, reaching to close the door behind himself. His eyes behind the mask-holes were bright and attentive.

"I'm so very glad to meet you. You have a wonderful scream."

[hisforonehour.livejournal.com]

"...thank you?" Lynda frowned slightly. Was that a compliment? It had to be a compliment. A really weird compliment, but one nonetheless.

"D'you want anything to drink? We've got milk, water and orange juice in the kitchen." She wasn't going to touch Mr. Duke's Wild Turkey-mostly because she was scared of what would happen if they ran out.