[Text]: Hey it’s Tim’s birthday and we’re still on for the party tonight in TT
[Text]: Pizza, Star Wars marathon, and poker are on the menu so be there
[Txt] Sounds good :)
Art of the Day: Batkids…Bat-descendants? Those of the Bat who are younger than the Bat.
- Kyle Rayner
little steph + cass warmup with and w/o colors bc they were super quick
im really excited for the new batgirl lineup! but eshiel and i keep talking about how much we want cass back, or how great a steph+cass teamup would be. so…
but then we figured the best answer to this would be a batgirl gang of all three taking names and i stand by that. when’s it gonna happen.
"Well obviously, if you have your own shit, use it," Mar’i says near-automatically, still examining the limits of the projected jurisdictions. "I don’t exactly need a motorbike or a Batarang assembler either, but I don’t have to be told that I don’t have to use them unless I need them."
"It makes more sense to have several extra heroes lend overall support if need be to smaller zones that have assigned protection," she continues after chewing one of the ends of her croissant, using one of the small Waynetech tablets to pull up her own area. She clicks through the details: square footage, places of interest, suspected gang control, population size…
Mar’i glances up again once she’s set it all to download a backup to her League comm. ”It means that no place gets left open if something goes down elsewhere. Considering that the parade was used to draw all of our attention away from Arkham and the Manor, and that it worked, it’ll probably be their strategy of choice from here on out. With all of them out, it won’t be a hard thing for them to do.”
The first sight of the projection causes his chest to ache. This isn’t the Gotham Tim thought of when abroad, isn’t the city he wanted to return to. The Gotham he remembers, with all its criminals and clever villains, its regular gangfights, robberies and worse felonies, feels broken and he is uncertain how to fix her. Tim bites the inside of his lower lip, catching sight of his symbol and the area he will is expected to patrol. It will be a hassle to move from Titans Tower to Gotham, but he is immensely relieved Bruce is able to present them their next move. Bruce appears calm. Tim sneaks a peek at him, lowers his eyes to the projection once more.
His ears pick up on Jayon’s question regarding Oliver Queen and he tilts his head curiously at Bruce. He still doesn’t understand the archer’s presence in Gotham, perhaps it was because Bruce felt something was about to happen, but perhaps there is more to it. His eyes narrow slightly. There’s probably more. But what? Hm. He follows Mar’i’s example and creates a copy of his assigned area, wanting to familiarize every detail as soon as possible. Meanwhile he stays a silent presence in the room.
Studying over the projection, Cass’s instinct isn’t to question the order, it’s to obey. Hearing a plan from Bruce is reassuring, a step towards bringing the city back to a state of normal. She wants to use a jurisdiction, a warehouse as her tools towards a repair. She can handle this, she wants to handle it this way.
But once she breaks away from the projection, looking to Bruce, a thought occurs to her, “It’s…getting worse?”
Hidden behind a large pair of Ray-Bans, purposefully and pointedly not looking at the secretary, Mar’i makes her way to the private elevator. It’s fingerprint and retina-locked with an extra set of personalized pass codes, of course, but once that’s all input, the elevator glides smoothly up to the penthouse conference room. Mar’i steps out, adjusting her bag and pushing her sunglasses up into her hairline. She doesn’t get the chance to greet Bruce before he’s speaking, directing, and she draws her attention to the nearby table.
Vaguely, Mar’i remembers that she’s been so busy with patrolling non-stop that she hasn’t had more than candy bars and cheap bodega sandwiches to eat. She moves towards the table, glances back at Bruce (still facing the large windows) and proceeds to gather the essentials onto a small porcelain plate. Clementines, mixed nuts, a couple of whole wheat croissants, a small mixed salad, a large cup of whole milk. It’s clear from what she’s choosing that Mar’i is rebooting through this meal, selecting the most energy-packed of the offerings.
She waits until she’s seated, in one of the chairs that allows her to sit straight, to eat. Her back’s sore from all the bending and lifting, the bending and throwing, the bending and kicking, but Mar’i’s less cognizant of it as she is of maintaining proper posture and not making it worse. She picks up one of the clementines, delicate fingers belying their own training when she pluck the entire core from it in one smooth movement, and begins unrolling it across her plate as she waits for the others to arrive. Mar’i has things to say, of course, but right now she waits to see who comes, and what they have, first.
Nearly the entire way there, all through the elevator ride, Jason debates turning around and heading right back to his apartment. This is a bad idea, he can feel it. Stephanie invited him, but he can’t stop feeling as though he isn’t welcome. It will be a chance to see Dick, he keeps telling himself, and Cass and Steph. That’s something.
The collar of his jacket is pulled up high, covering the lower half of his face, though his distinctive hair gives him away. He’s run his fingers through is anxiously about a half dozen times in the elevator, the strands sticking up at odd angles now, his red roots starkly visible against the dyed black, apart from the strange white tuft that hangs limply against his forehead.
He takes a breath to steady himself as the elevator reaches the penthouse. It’s going to be okay. He can do this. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, he steps out of the elevator as the doors slide smoothly open. Eyes flicking about the room, he takes in Bruce and Mar’i silently. For a moment, he looks at the food, but then changes course, helping himself only to coffee before he moves to lean against and unoccupied chair.
No sign of a friendly face. Just perfect.
Despite a rushed shower, Cass’s skin still feels that distinct scaly itch leftover from patrol. Sweat stubbornly clinging, ignoring her fresh change of clothes. Her hair has also taken on a life of its own, the ends of her locks turning upward in the city’s humidity, knotted at the nape of her neck. All that accompanied with a hoodie and a pair of glasses (that almost look stolen from a Kent) allow her to be easily ignored.
As the elevator ascends, Cass nervously picks an index finger against her shorts. The nail catches against the fabric, cracking uncomfortably till she has to bite the rest of it off. She holds the digit in her mouth till the elevator chimes and slows.
She takes her seat- diagonal from Mar’i, one away from Jason- and stares at the overwhelming spread. At the sight of Mar’i’s plate, and Jason’s cup she decidedly moves to gather up something, but it doesn’t amount to a meal. Cass is only halfway through peeling back the rind of a clementine when she has to draw back her hands to her mouth. Covering a yawn with citrus stained hands, has her relaxing back into her chair, poised to watch Bruce watching.