A [ Not having much to spend is part of what speeds things along, and what he does have won’t go far in New York City. He’s done with that part in less than an hour.
And really that’s okay. As much as he’d wanted to do this, as much as he wants to make Christmas as nice as he can for the people who’ve made this place sometimes almost okay for him this trip is about something else too. He hasn’t been away from Exsilium in what feels like years. He hasn’t seen skyscrapers, touched gravel, felt real wind in his hair in forever.
Not being seen is part of the deal of being here. But it’s dark now, which makes it even easier to slip the mask out from his pocket and slip it on behind his ears. The rest of his costume is on under his clothes and that makes it even easier, stowing the civvies like old castoffs behind a dumpster. It feels good.
He’ll only take an hour, darting over some of the lower rooftops and before he scales one of the bigger skyscrapers, keeping his body angled into the shadows before he leaps off and swings down straight into the cold wind. Everything’s better from up here. The lights, the Rockefellar tree, even the noise of the cars and the faint carols drifting up from below.
It’s not quite home, but for now it’s close enough. ]
B [ Or he’s used his last few dollars to pay his way onto an ice rink outside of a mall. The rented skates are new and clean and his bags are outside with his name stapled to the top (all wrapped together and shoved inside a nondescript paper sack). Some kids younger than he is are gathering around to watch while he practices his turns like they’re really great instead of just okay, so he takes a few more minutes to show them how to move just so like he’s really been doing it for years instead of just a few weeks. Then he’s breaking off to go darting through the cluster of adults, fast enough to be daring but not quite enough to knock anybody off their feet. It’s fun. ]
C [ Already he’s dragging his feet a little on the way back, so much so he’s stalled in front of a coffee shop, eying up the sign advertising one of the sugary holiday drinks Alfred never lets him have back home. It’s one of those things that would make him feel just a little rebellious, and thinking about rebelling against Alfred at Christmas time makes his heart hurt, but it’s been almost a year after all. He’s a teenager now. Maybe Alfred would even let him have it if he asked nicely.
But still he’s waiting, hands tucked in his pockets while he studies the sign like it holds all the answers he’s looking for. ]
Dick | open
[ Not having much to spend is part of what speeds things along, and what he does have won’t go far in New York City. He’s done with that part in less than an hour.
And really that’s okay. As much as he’d wanted to do this, as much as he wants to make Christmas as nice as he can for the people who’ve made this place sometimes almost okay for him this trip is about something else too. He hasn’t been away from Exsilium in what feels like years. He hasn’t seen skyscrapers, touched gravel, felt real wind in his hair in forever.
Not being seen is part of the deal of being here. But it’s dark now, which makes it even easier to slip the mask out from his pocket and slip it on behind his ears. The rest of his costume is on under his clothes and that makes it even easier, stowing the civvies like old castoffs behind a dumpster. It feels good.
He’ll only take an hour, darting over some of the lower rooftops and before he scales one of the bigger skyscrapers, keeping his body angled into the shadows before he leaps off and swings down straight into the cold wind. Everything’s better from up here. The lights, the Rockefellar tree, even the noise of the cars and the faint carols drifting up from below.
It’s not quite home, but for now it’s close enough. ]
B
[ Or he’s used his last few dollars to pay his way onto an ice rink outside of a mall. The rented skates are new and clean and his bags are outside with his name stapled to the top (all wrapped together and shoved inside a nondescript paper sack). Some kids younger than he is are gathering around to watch while he practices his turns like they’re really great instead of just okay, so he takes a few more minutes to show them how to move just so like he’s really been doing it for years instead of just a few weeks. Then he’s breaking off to go darting through the cluster of adults, fast enough to be daring but not quite enough to knock anybody off their feet. It’s fun. ]
C
[ Already he’s dragging his feet a little on the way back, so much so he’s stalled in front of a coffee shop, eying up the sign advertising one of the sugary holiday drinks Alfred never lets him have back home. It’s one of those things that would make him feel just a little rebellious, and thinking about rebelling against Alfred at Christmas time makes his heart hurt, but it’s been almost a year after all. He’s a teenager now. Maybe Alfred would even let him have it if he asked nicely.
But still he’s waiting, hands tucked in his pockets while he studies the sign like it holds all the answers he’s looking for. ]