capeandcowllogs | cause serious, you're so serious

[She had been slightly familiarized with this particular part of town, and was accustomed to the same routine of waking up, gussying up, and feeling the gradual and almost undetectable brightening of each morning, and each afternoon was getting warmer.

Passing the grungy, industrial steps of the subway system, Donna turned the corner to a more austere part of the City; a simple district of privately owned shops, nothing corporate and thus, the crowds were noticeably smaller in size. By no means were the sidewalks empty, and the streets not cluttered with vehicles, but it was less likely to make one claustrophobic. Breathing space.

Speaking of which, her throat gripped her breath violently as she stopped to stare at the sight she had been met with around the corner. It was a bike, and no way in Hades Hellfire could Donna actually tell any of these motorcycles apart, and so her immediate recognition confounded her.

A rational part of her brain tried to point out that she could not differentiate between a Harley and a Power Wheels car, most likely, but the rest of her body seemed to nod in acquiesce with her gut instinct.

And, sure enough, Jason Todd comes ~~strutting out of the store~~ (perhaps not strutting, that was too BeeGees of an explanation for her tastes) -- Jason Todd exits the store that the bike is parked in front of, looking distracted almost immediately.]

Ugh. [She groaned, quickly shoving her back against the wall and listening to him get on the bike. The nerve of him! Crossing her path like this! He hadn't even bothered to talk to her, let alone check up on her or inform her of his state of well-being, and seemed intent on leaving her with a million questions.

Why, it was if he was begging her to stalk him.]

Just where ... [She leaned over a bit, peeking shyly from around the corner, eyes narrowing suspiciously] is he going? Bet he's doing something ...secretive...

Edited 2010-03-21 22:30 (UTC)

[He sat there on the bike for a while, seemingly fussing with the strap on his glove or something. Maybe it was new. In any case, he seemed to solve whatever problem was going on there and pulled on his helmet (a normal helmet, not his Red Hood helmet), glancing over his shoulder as he pulled out into the street. Despite the warming weather, he wore more or less what he always wore (unless he was playing a role) — the black jacket, a white shirt (sans body armor for now), jeans, and boots. His hair, before he put the helmet on, was sort of bed messy, not the carefully gelled and sculpted way but genuinely sticking up in certain places. Which meant he was sleeping, at least.

Jason drove on through town, casually skirting various traffic laws.]

[As soon as he started down the road, Donna lifted upward into the air, along the steep side of the Chinese restaurant she had been behind. Rising above the rooftop, she watched carefully as Jason picked up speed, the hot and salty smell of the food inside emitting from where she stayed, suspended in the air for a moment.

She wasn't certain if it was boredom or curiosity, or perhaps the lethal and irrational push of affection, but she swept down in an almost predatory manner, catching up to the speed of his motorcycle and landing on the building adjacent to him, ducking quickly behind its chimney.]

At least he's wearing a helmet. [Mentally was prepared to nag.]

[It wasn't long before he turned off into an alleyway, which certainly seemed his kind of environment. Once there, however, he simply took his helmet off, parked the motorcycle, and leaned against it, waiting. He waved off a homeless guy, glared down a would be thief, and just. Waited.

Finally—]

Donna. Are you coming or what?

[Did she just ... hear her name? Kneeling on the rooftop of one of the buildings encasing the alleyway, Donna gripped the ledge and looked over, to see Jason waiting there.

How did he know? How long did he know? Seriously, it was creepy.

Not ... much creepier than I must look, though, she thought, pulling back and taking a deep breath, buttoning up her pea-coat. Her head was suddenly abuzz, fighting to register an appropriate response to the encounter she was about to have. Her mind ping-ponged back and forth between indignant anger and anxious anticipation. Is this really what it took to get his attention? To beseech it in such an odd and shady manner?]

Um...coming.

[She landed assiduously in front of him, her heels making a diligent and almost timid click as they briefed with the concrete. Her posture straightens and her chin is up crisply, causing her earrings to tap lightly at her jaw. She threw a scrutinizing look at their surroundings.]

I wasn't following you.

Mn. ["Whatever you want to call it" seemed to be the translation. He looked at her neutrally, reassessing her appearance; it seemed like every time he saw her he had somehow forgotten all the little details. It wasn't that her future self looked much different, but they held themselves differently, and for some reason he could never hold that in his mind.

This conversation shouldn't happen in a dank little alley, but part of him, sour and stubborn, wasn't interested in playing the gentleman today.]

Can I do something for you?

[Yes. I wanted to know where you got those jeans.

Her eyes flickered back over to him, jaw tightening at his tone. She didn't want to be angry at Jason. She didn't want to be mistrusting or baffled or utterly lost on what to make of him and these changes.

She wants to snap at the man before her. She wants to grab him by his jacket and shake him and demand things she most certainly is not entitled to know. Why yes, I'd like an order of "What on Earth is going on with you", and a side of explanations. Hold the excuses.

Donna runs a hand through her hair, regarding Jason's supreme combo of bed and helmet hair as she does.]

Long time no see. I have a brush, you know. If you need one.

I didn't think you'd want to talk.

[So, he's just going to ignore the brush comment and get to the heart of things, however rude it may be. He's never been the most open of people but his expression is especially closed off now, nothing but reticence and reserve, an analytical touch, left to his features. It would be apt if he had his arms crossed, but they're resting on the motorcycle behind him.]

[His demeanor both unsettled and challenged her, and she attempted to keep her face bland and smooth, eyes icily fixed on him. Her lips began to part to speak, but she quickly took back the motion, pursing them into a bit of a pout and looking over at the wall across from her. Her face fell as she thought about his words.]

It's hard. [There was more of a quietness to her voice now, but her tone is not yielding or gentle.] Feeling in demand of someone's attention, but not knowing ...why you want it.

[A flash of confusion in her eyes, suddenly, as she looked at Jason with the perplexed expression of a clueless fifth grader in a physics class.]

I don't know if I want to talk. I mean, I want to say things, and I want to hear your voice, but I don't ... know. If I want to "talk."

Edited 2010-03-22 00:35 (UTC)

[Tipping his head slightly, he watched her a second longer before speaking.]

You can say what you want.

[The quality of his voice wasn't... gentler, nor any more open, but he was, at least, playing at being receptive. Her confusion was encouraging to him. It was less likely to be the kind of thing he hadn't wanted, an earnest talk about morality, in which he would feel trapped and defiant.]

[ The space between her brows crinkled in a flustered bout of frustration, as she folded her arms and looked away from him for a moment.]

I ... I know that. I don't need your permission.

[Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, the tense hold on her sloped eyebrows suddenly tugged in reverse, knit with what looked like regret.]

Okay. I'll say what I want. [She opened her eyes slowly, looking much more vulnerable now. She didn't know what to say, and she wasn't comfortable being in a position where she had to keep him from believing his time was being wasted in her company. So she spoke earnestly.]

I ... have. Missed you.

[A quick gesture as if to wave away the air that formed around that statement.]

And I know that ...that's ridiculous because, come on, we're not exactly close and I really haven't seen you much here and it's not like I'm attached or clingy in any way, okay? [Her words were so quick they nearly stumbled over each other like a stack of dominoes.]

And people say that hatred comes from not understanding something, but... well, I don't understand you, and it's because of that that I'm compelled to ... care more.

[He didn't apologize, but he listened attentively, and made no move to hurry her on or hold her back. At the end he seemed to review his interior processes and evidently decided it would be okay to offer back —]

I care about you, too.

[There's an emptiness to it, not unlike a platitude, but at the same time he's watching her so hard, like he doesn't quite have the confidence that would be well-received despite evidence that it would.]

I wouldn't want to make you talk if you didn't want to.

[That's a little better, though there's a flatness inherent to it that is his modulation of tone and emotion, whatever dedication to stoic manliness persists in his mind as necessary.]

[Was that a record scratch in the alley? Donna unfolded her arms, a lightning flash of disbelief striking across her features, before they evolved into an unsurprised look.

Men.]

Okay, well ... you couldn't. Even if you wanted to. [She felt disconcerted by the unreadability of his tone, and so she just focused on his eyes.]

Because I'd flatten you. But the chivalrous ... allowance of my free will is appreciated.

I didn't mean make you make you. I meant conversationally. [The flatness didn't relent, but a trace of amusement entered his tone nonetheless. His eyes weren't especially expressive either, but their watchfulness was still telling.]

Oh. Well, I meant flatten you flatten you. But ... I could do that conversationally, too. [It was a game of chicken to her now. She didn't want to be the one to break the mood and let on an air of playfulness. Even if it was there.]

But ... I'm just saying, Jason. There's no way you could make me make me. Not that it makes you any less of a man.

Hn. [It wasn't really grumpy.] I never thought otherwise.

[With that, he just. Stared at her some more, which could be construed as challenging or expectant. Evidently he didn't feel talkative today, or expected Donna to carry the conversation for whatever reason (because he was, in scientific terms, a poop, perhaps).]

[Donna was quite aware of the poopness. Her mouth tightened at one corner, forming an irate frown and not enjoying the expectant stare. She found his actions as an attempt to, perhaps, belittle her or make her feel as if she needed to be performative. Of course, she was pretty aware that she could be overly defensive in such cases. This was, by all means, a stranger to her in many ways.

She took about five steps forward, putting her about less than a foot away from him, the back of her mind shuffling to try and determine who was taller while the forefront focused on holding his stare.

With the way ... he was, should his actions against the Joker be any indication, there was much to ask. Nothing that she felt comfortable asking, though. Maybe they were what could be called as friends, though that would not even be an entirely accurate term to blanket them beneath, and they'd probably never truly be allies in a handful of situations.]

So. We care about each other. [Her eyes trailed down to take in certain changes of his body, a sight she hadn't gotten to fully focus on in their previous and only meeting at the City. He had Batman's build much more than the other two Robins.

Another step forward. Donna's fingers tensed at her sides. The part of her that lived on an Island wanted to challenge him -- challenge this stoic front and maybe even see how far he could be pushed in battle with her. The part of her that grew up with the Titans regarded him cautiously, carefully, with a more crystallized camaraderie in spite of confusion, mistrust, and disappointment.

Both of those girls inside of her were overshadowed by her womanhood (not that one ... down there), which viscerally recognized that the idealization and rose-colored nostalgia was indeed gone. ]

You'll let me touch you, right?

[His eyebrows rose minutely, and he didn't move from his position leaning against the bike. To adopt any other posture would be to affect defensiveness, something he was (ostentatiously) avoiding. His breathing remained normal and steady, calm in the face of someone who could, if they were so inclined, tear him apart... but of course, he was pretty certain that she wouldn't.]

[In the theme of what they'd been talking about —] I couldn't stop you. [A beat.] But yes, I'd let you.

[Finally there was something apart from indifference, something like a naive supposition that Donna would never intentionally hurt him. A trace of the boy he'd been in how an archaeological dig uncovered bits and pieces of the past.]

[Satisfied, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him, in a hug she didn't expect to be well-received nor returned in any manner. She was certain he'd stand there like some grotesque marionette the entire time. The action was a misinformed one -- unknowing of the extent that Jason had suffered or the monstrous suffering he had caused, himself.]

I lied. [She'd leaned lightly against him, leggings pressed against his jeans, staring over his shoulder at the bike.] I couldn't flatten you, because ... [Her voice dropped into a secretive and guarded whisper-] Well, that'd involve me flattening you.

[He did stand there stiffly, but he also folded one arm around her and applied a very little pressure, awkwardly. Awareness that she likely didn't know a great deal about him (unless Tim had been running his mouth again) and knowledge of what happened between them in the future kept him from doing much more. Both options felt like lying, but this lie seemed safest. For now.]

... thanks, Donna.

[Striving to invest two words with some sincerity, it came out dry anyway. He bowed his head against hers briefly, experiencing a too rare (yet altogether too often, in his opinion) shred of regret.]

[She lets out a small laugh, amused at his awkward behavior for a brief moment, before the more ebullient nature of her outburst becomes more bereft as it fades out. The lids of Donna's eyes became hooded as she felt an odd distance between the two of them.]

I know I'm just a tiny part of it, maybe even inconsequential. [Pulling back from the hug, she balanced one elbow on his shoulder, resting her hand on the soft leather covering his back. Her other hand cupped his cheek, the pads of her fingers pressing slightly into his skin to force his gaze to be directed at her, not unlike a mother and her child.]

But I still am a part of your life. And you don't owe me anything, I know that ...but it would be nice to hear from you more often.

[He raised his eyebrows again. Even though...? It wouldn't be hard to say, even to her, that he was a killer. But she'd made it clear she cared for him despite that (even if she didn't know the extent to which he'd killed and destroyed), and why would you just throw away a present like that?]

Okay.

[Simple and easy, and a bit of a lie, but he planned on seeing it through.]

[A strong desperation to be thoroughly convinced that Jason's actions were a momentary lapse in judgment -- it happened more often in the superhero world, she believed, than people would like to admit. It was bound to occur when taking on the responsibility of dealing personally with the darkest acts society could produce.]

Okay. Stay out of trouble.

[She felt as if she had been inflicting discomfort on him. She could recognize it, really, and selfishly pressed past it all in what she felt was quite a weak attempt at a connection. Her touch trailed down his jaw and finalized as a grip on his chin, turning his head slightly to the side as she kissed his cheek in a soft and unassuming gesture of gratitude.]

Or I'll come after you again.

[Tolerating it all with comfortably half-shut eyes, his arm tightened around her briefly in response. He was never going to get the chance to actually kiss her, but this wasn't his idea of a substitute, it was just what it was. A connection, something to hold onto. She would inevitably be disappointed, but nobody would blame him, or so he believed, for wanting to hang onto their friendship (if this was what it was) for a little longer.]

Promises. [He smiled, sardonic but pleased.]

You know, I predicted ninety-nine percent more yelling and rage in this confrontation. I'm a biiit disappointed.

[Donna was persuaded, perhaps too eagerly, that despite his troubled act of vengeance against the Joker, Jason's subsequent silence and avoidance indicated that he was indeed mentally sound enough to grasp the magnitude of what those actions could do to a person, and how it must worry the people who cared about him (which, of course, Donna had no idea just how limited that number was in an expressively healthy way).]

You have such a nice smile. [Both of her arms had rested loosely on his shoulders now, and she offered a playful grin, hoping to embarrass him.]

Edited 2010-03-22 16:54 (UTC)

From you or from me or from both of us?

[The talk he was putting off would not be a pleasant one. But he would think about that later, when the time came. He would be sorry then, and not before. This time he raised just one eyebrow at Donna's attempt to embarrass him, and flashed his best impression of Bruce Wayne's millionaire douchebag smile.]

Both -- oh. Oh. That's, um ... [She recoiled a bit from the position she had been in, taking a step back and bringing a hand to her chest, clutching at her coat; her other hand held on to Jason's, her fingers filling the spaces in between his.]

That's kind of ... terrifying? Maybe it's the dark and menacing alley. But you should stop.

[Billionaire douchebag smile, excuse me. Which faded into a normal and relatively genial smirk.]

Do you want to go somewhere?

[It was about as casual as it sounded. He was open to just about any sort of activity that wasn't too much talking.]

[She latched to his side immediately, linking arms with him and looking happy as can be.]

I thought you'd never ask! I'm just using you for the bike, I hope you know.

[She hadn't been out much with anyone in a while, and the fluctuating and unpredictable mood of the Titans' House paired with an interminable need to distract herself from how much she missed her husband made her incredibly thankful for the suggestion. She already had a few things in mind, thankfully, and she was keen on the idea of doing one of them with Jason.]

Then I guess I'll have to teach you to ride it.

[Drive it. Whatever. He wasn't the best of teachers, but it seemed like a small thing that might make Donna happy, and given that this would inevitably come to an end, it seemed like taking these small opportunities would be best.]

Got any place in mind?

You'd do that? [Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and she looked back from Jason to his bike. Which she immediately thought, "must not crash", because then she'd never be able to face Jason again.] We'll have to find a spot where I won't kill civilians in the process of learning.

[She stopped herself from grinning, because she apparently had to look cool and not too overexcited about the bike thing. No one who rides motorcycles looks excited about it. They look like it's the most natural, casual thing on earth.

Jason did it well. More James Dean, less the Fonz.]

Uuuum--We should see a horror film. Later, I mean. I'll pay.

[She had wanted to go somewhere more private, like a park. Not Central, but a less crowded, less popular one. However, they were still easing in to each others company. She found a movie best -- they'd be spending time together, sharing an experience, and facing a screen the entire time.]

cause serious, you're so serious

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