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?
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But he's not killing anybody, no. It's an easy decision to make. If everyone made it... there'd be no Games.
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"I'll play along as much as I have to, but don't worry I'm not going to kill unless absolutely necessary. I'm probably one of the worst students in the training room actually." She gave a small sigh. Fighting wasn't her thing, it was Tony's. She just helped him in other ways like pep talks or information gathering. "But thank you, would be good to have at least one ally before going in."
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And then perk up, worried for her. What could he do- offer her lessons? Yes, he could easily do that. It'd be an excuse to get himself into the training room and scout out other's talents, while not having to participate himself. But it seemed like training for self-defense and murder would be one and the same. That made it a hard choice.
"I think I'm pretty bad at it, too." Which is an outright lie but nobody but him needs to know that yet. "We can just wait out the fights, I guess. When they see we won't be doing anything, they'll let us go." It's stuck in his head: the simple solution.
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Hey she's getting some training from others. She's someone who learns better when the pressure's on though.
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"The woods are very different from a city."
On second thought, not giving her a vote of confidence means that he pretty much just told her she'd die. Quick, Drake, make amends. "Can you climb? If you can find a tall enough tree, then you'll instantly have an advantage over everyone down below." But now he's remembering he saw bows and arrows in the weapons array.
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"You're right about that last part. The bigger they are, the harder they fall." Not much to go down if you're small as is.
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It should work...
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But hey! There's a magazine of... fashion to explore, it seems, and Tim finds himself pointing to a big lumberjack-esque suit he's spied in Pepper's book. "Is it always that bad?" The taste in clothing, this time.
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Hey Pepper might always like the leggings skirt and blouse look, in public, but she does like fashion week in NYC. "Come to think of it, looks better than some of the clothing lines that headlined fashion week right before I came here. God I hope the huge knitted rope outfits don't come here." She's not sure if that's really what it was, but some of the knits she had seen just looked like clothesline worked up into some sort of webbing. So not flattering.