Tim Drake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
brentwood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-06-14 07:21 pm
brentwood) wrote in thecapitol2013-06-14 07:21 pm
Entry tags:
01 (mingling can't be avoided - open
Who| The littlest Tim and whoever's around!
What| Arrival and curiosity.
Where| District 12 Suites, Central Commons.
When| The day of his arrival.
Warnings/Notes| Nope, none that I can think of!
It's one thing to be kidnapped-- another thing entirely to be told what he had. What an honor, what a privilege, isn't this exciting? And no, no it wasn't a bit. It had taken an immense effort to keep from decking anyone at all who was too peppy, too clean, too bubbly. Too helpful. Now herded into his suite (and whoa, not going to lie, it's a pretty sweet room), Tim finds himself pining for Alfred instead of these silent people who offer sweets and luxuries. Then he corrects himself- tells himself that even thinking such a thing might jinx this entire situation somehow and actually bring Alfred to this city. This world. Because there's no way an operation like this could go undetected by the heavy hitters back home.
There's a heavy crease in his brow, looking a little silly on a 15 year old boy. It's not until Tim steps into the bathroom (even that's way high class) that he spots himself on a mirror and notices he's downright scowling. He splashes water on his face. Tells himself to calm down, to do what he's been trained to do. Sleuth. As much as he'd like to hit something, there'd just be no point when he doesn't know how heavy the consequences will be. If everything's been running so smoothly for 70-something rounds of Death Match... it's for a reason.
Besides.
This might all be a bad dream.
He sits on the bed. Gets to work with familiarizing himself with the communication device he was so generously given. He'll bet anything in the world it's bugged.
(Floor 12)
Every adventure draws to an end, even one that had taken so little movement as his assessment of the communicator had. There's an unease with being cooped up in a strange room. A stirring that came from disorientation. Now, the sane thing would be to let the nerves settle before stepping out. He's sure he remembers how to access the concrete den he had been in before, but there's no need for that now. Turning the knob and opening the door to peek his head out, Tim makes sure to don the face of some lost kid rather than an angry one. He's even meticulously quiet about making sure the click of the closing door behind him doesn't sound louder than it needs to, and he cringes a little when he hears it anyway.
Not that he's playing a spy game with himself or anything but. But he's being obviously sneaky. He has to remind himself he's just a schoolboy, and as much as he has an urge to venture down the elevators, it's best to familiarize himself with the most immediate surroundings. It's just a very lavish hotel. That makes his skin crawl. Rounding the corners is particularly suspenseful.
(Central Commons)
Now, if the suites were eerie, the common room is just bizarre. There's the architecture and commodities just screaming for an atmosphere of relaxation. The televisions and lighting are spectacular. The chairs and couches look comfortable and inviting. The whole... mood of the place whispers playground, not slaughter. And Tim supposes that's what has him standing there, just freshly off the elevator, with a shiver running down his spine. Either he's being fantastically duped, or he really doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.
And that's terrifying all on its own.
So should he be expecting a bear to burst out of the elevator doors behind him? --Tim takes no time to step away. He even looks over his shoulder once or twice once he's moved himself more towards the center of the place without quite realizing it. Okay, Drake. Focus. It's time to make some friends. Step One: Find someone who doesn't look like they want to kill you. Should be easy, right?
What| Arrival and curiosity.
Where| District 12 Suites, Central Commons.
When| The day of his arrival.
Warnings/Notes| Nope, none that I can think of!
It's one thing to be kidnapped-- another thing entirely to be told what he had. What an honor, what a privilege, isn't this exciting? And no, no it wasn't a bit. It had taken an immense effort to keep from decking anyone at all who was too peppy, too clean, too bubbly. Too helpful. Now herded into his suite (and whoa, not going to lie, it's a pretty sweet room), Tim finds himself pining for Alfred instead of these silent people who offer sweets and luxuries. Then he corrects himself- tells himself that even thinking such a thing might jinx this entire situation somehow and actually bring Alfred to this city. This world. Because there's no way an operation like this could go undetected by the heavy hitters back home.
There's a heavy crease in his brow, looking a little silly on a 15 year old boy. It's not until Tim steps into the bathroom (even that's way high class) that he spots himself on a mirror and notices he's downright scowling. He splashes water on his face. Tells himself to calm down, to do what he's been trained to do. Sleuth. As much as he'd like to hit something, there'd just be no point when he doesn't know how heavy the consequences will be. If everything's been running so smoothly for 70-something rounds of Death Match... it's for a reason.
Besides.
This might all be a bad dream.
He sits on the bed. Gets to work with familiarizing himself with the communication device he was so generously given. He'll bet anything in the world it's bugged.
(Floor 12)
Every adventure draws to an end, even one that had taken so little movement as his assessment of the communicator had. There's an unease with being cooped up in a strange room. A stirring that came from disorientation. Now, the sane thing would be to let the nerves settle before stepping out. He's sure he remembers how to access the concrete den he had been in before, but there's no need for that now. Turning the knob and opening the door to peek his head out, Tim makes sure to don the face of some lost kid rather than an angry one. He's even meticulously quiet about making sure the click of the closing door behind him doesn't sound louder than it needs to, and he cringes a little when he hears it anyway.
Not that he's playing a spy game with himself or anything but. But he's being obviously sneaky. He has to remind himself he's just a schoolboy, and as much as he has an urge to venture down the elevators, it's best to familiarize himself with the most immediate surroundings. It's just a very lavish hotel. That makes his skin crawl. Rounding the corners is particularly suspenseful.
(Central Commons)
Now, if the suites were eerie, the common room is just bizarre. There's the architecture and commodities just screaming for an atmosphere of relaxation. The televisions and lighting are spectacular. The chairs and couches look comfortable and inviting. The whole... mood of the place whispers playground, not slaughter. And Tim supposes that's what has him standing there, just freshly off the elevator, with a shiver running down his spine. Either he's being fantastically duped, or he really doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.
And that's terrifying all on its own.
So should he be expecting a bear to burst out of the elevator doors behind him? --Tim takes no time to step away. He even looks over his shoulder once or twice once he's moved himself more towards the center of the place without quite realizing it. Okay, Drake. Focus. It's time to make some friends. Step One: Find someone who doesn't look like they want to kill you. Should be easy, right?
It's perfectly fine!
It takes a fraction of a second, and Tim's dropping what he's doing to fully face whoever-- and oh my God it's Harleen Quinzel, and oh my God why did he think turning to face her after she arbitrarily shouted his name was ever a good idea? Tim's not sure he could make a break for it without drawing even more attention to himself-- and. And leaving Harley alone in the lobby was a bad idea. Irresponsible. So anyway, he has to keep himself in check. Keep calm. Keep pretending he has no idea who this is.
So he tenses his shoulders and furrows his brows and shakes his head. Geez, her getup is ridiculous.
"Sorry, what?"
no subject
"And your little hair!" Quick hands moving to muss up his hair.
"You're ADORABLE!" She cackled gleefully. "But what about Stephy? Don't tell me she's looking for some of that sweet sweet jailbait?" She pulled a funny twisted face that said some weird part of her approved of such a relationship.
"I mean age is less important when you're younger of course but it's still a little SS you know?" She babbled exposing perhaps a bit too much about her preferences in websites.
no subject
"Get offa me!"
Not because he's scared, but just because it's weird. As Harley moves her hands to another part of him, he wimpishly bats them away. Steps back and ducks his head to fix his hair (to hide the face he's making, to hear her a little better.) There didn't seem to be any malice in her voice, just... cutesy babbling coos and awws.
Of course, there's people staring at the spectacle. Tim doesn't bother to hide his face anymore at the jailbait comment. "What are you talking about?" Though in hindsight, that's kind of a bad question to ask.
no subject
There was a pause and she corrected herself, "Unless she's into protecting little ones. Is Stephie like that? All motherly instincts and stuff?"
no subject
Oh.
The.
"I didn't revert into any state. This is how I am, I just got here, and you don't have to know any of those things anyway." Then he remembers he's not supposed to be overly, uh, hostile to this, uh. "I don't even know who you are." That oughta fix it.
no subject
"Oh no! They broke you! They I heard they could do all sorts of horrible brain stabby punishments around here but I didn't think they could totally reset your head meats!"
Swing and a miss in theory baseball. That's two strikes Harley.
no subject
What?
"I said I'm fine! I have no idea what you're talking about and I swear I just got here!" Geez, anything to get her to calm down and quit shouting, even if it meant he'd have to shout, too. Don't ask how the logic works, all Tim knows is that right now it does. The irritation's giving way to a whole new set of expressions. It's concern this time around. For a lot of things. The people listening, what Harley might have seen before, what he might be forced to see later. She's giving them ideas, for pity's sake!
no subject
"But how would you know?! Quick! Who's the president back home? Who's the most recent villain to publicly threaten Gotham? What's your favorite color and have you been adopted yet or am I completely threatening the space time contin-u-whatsit by telling you?!"
She took a gasp gasping breath at the end of that series of questions. The look in her eye betrayed excited mirth at how much fun she was having.
no subject
And it's... really strange. And the grimace on his face is as if he's caught a whiff of something awful.
"Adopted?"
He doesn't need to take any of this seriously.
no subject
"Well now you'd done it Harl. Brucie's gonna kill ya for spoiling the surprise." making eye contact again she smiled ruefully, "Don't suppose you plan on forgetting I said anything huh? Maybe a sudden case of amnesia?."
She turned on her heel talking to herself and incidentally the few people stopping to stare at the infamous tribute. "On the one hand, it's not like it's bad news right? Most kids would burn down an orphanage to be adopted into papa moneybags care."
Then she turned again facing a different direction, "Buuuut spoiling a surprise is one of the worst things a gal can do!"
Finally spinning back around she took to her knees and clasped her hands together begging him, "I throw myself on the mercy of your corduroys, forgive me for my big mouth knows not of which it speaks!"
Finally she shut up long enough for him to get a word in edge wise.
no subject
Tim is far, far ahead of you there, Harley. He can't stand the look in her eyes, and glances away.
He's also learned to always trust his gut instinct when he's dealing with her-- something he should have known by now but alas. He really should have just up and turned away when he had had the chance. Now he's left having to duck his head in a mixture of anger and embarrassment, chewing on his tongue to keep from telling Harley to shut up. --an orphanage? Him? An orphan? This day is getting from bad to worse to worst, but his sanity rests in the fact that this day is specifically oriented towards such a thing. And that Harley's a clown. And he's not going to let her lies get under his skin, nope.
Wow.
It'd be way too easy to just. Kick her.
"Sure thing."
But by the way his jaw's tightened up, it should be obvious that he's ticked. If he beats her up, then his secret is out. If he plays along... he might get a sweet TV deal. (Kidding!)
"Like I said, I really don't know what you're talking about." He waves his hand dismissively in the air- mostly because now that they're being so intensely watched he feels like he has to move more. "But you'd be a great actress." Mime. She'd be a great mime.
no subject
"Would ya believe I've never had a lesson? I mean I joined the drama club in high school sure, but there was too much "Serious actors"" The combination of air quotes and stern face broadcast the message clear enough.
"I mean what's wrong with a little light hearted romantic comedy? Bill Shakespeare is great and all but you can only do Much Ado About Nothing so many times. And if I never see Fiddler on the Roof again it'll be too soon!"
no subject
With a wide sweep of an arm, he gestures at what's left of the crowd around them. The insecurity's off his face in an instant, along with the anger. In its stead is wry enthusiasm. "I bet someone would love to show you where."
no subject
"Well...maybe." She turned her gaze back onto him. "But how could I just leave you here all alone?! A poor young boy in a strange new world where all anyone wants to do is see you do is kill or be killed."
no subject
So close, so far away.
"Right now I think everyone just wants us to lower our voices and get out of their way." He hopes. Because if he has to start worrying again about the lounge being the show ring, he's not too sure he can handle it. "Besides, it's getting boring here. A walk in the city would be nice." He doubts they couldn't handle her where there's an operating police force or something. And if he has to walk her into the city (which he darn well hopes he doesn't), he can ditch her there easily.
[Thought I'd give him a bail out moment, but if you want her to keep torturing him she'll catch up]
But then as it would seem, Tim's luck turned around.
"Ooo shiny." Harley's gaze was somewhere over Tim's shoulder at a couple of girls who had walked in, one of them green. Without another word she shot past Tim to go greet the girls apparently distracted by their arrival and cheering "GAL PAL!" loud enough that the people near her flinched.
Opportunity struck in the strangest of ways sometimes.