#quiitecontrary

[hungover-and-broke-student]

order whatever you want, it's my treat. - @quiitecontrary

@quiitecontrary

"Now, I know you're too nice for a city like this." Rain softly battered the diner's windows as she settled into the booth. It would be rude to ask for too much, but the waffle combo started calling her. "You never told me what made you decide to come to Gotham."

[hungover-and-broke-student]

🥶 - @quiitecontrary

@quiitecontrary

She's stunned for a second as the powder and slush slide down her face. It only lasts a heartbeat as she drops down to scoop some of the fresh snow and cranes her arm back, ready to retaliate with icy revenge. "You seemed so serious! Are you prepared to face the consequences of your betrayal?"

[babydxhl]

don't freak out. but I think you almost drowned. - @quiitecontrary

the house across the lake sentence starters | still accepting.

Mary's teeth are chattering so hard she can feel it rattling through her skull, hear it clicking in the crisp winter air. She blinks rapidly, gaze darting — the water, the dark slash of the interstate overhead, the wannabe hero kneeling beside her — as the memory of the car veering fast and skidding hard off the road and into the water comes flooding back. The driver limp against the windscreen as the water came spilling in.

"G-God," she says. Her voice lacks the disdain she's too known for. It cracks. after a moment she realises her hand has snatched the wrist of the girl, that her nails have dug into the makeshift armour. Letting go is an effort; she finds the cold is sinking into her bones through soaked clothes.

"Did you—" Swallow. Straighten up. Scrape the hair back from where it whorls at the temples. "Did you get me out?"

[hungover-and-broke-student]

"i think we might need to get you to a hospital..." - @quiitecontrary

@quiitecontrary

Absolutely not. While this stranger, the rare good Samaritan in Gotham, means well, it wouldn't take the sharpest eye to notice and have questions about the myriad of scars along her body. Questions she doesn't have any good answer to. One look at a drug test, and they'd "suggest" a rehab program that would steal all her time from the church. Crane would be furious, and he has enough going on right now without that wrench in the gears.

But, the fastest way to make someone think you must go to a hospital is to insist that you don't. Especially if they're prone to assuming that they know better than you. And good Samaritans often assume that much when blood is still pouring down your face, but it'll clot soon enough.

"No, I'll be alright. Nothing is broken." No broken ribs, at least that much was true. Riley knew what that felt like, and this wasn't that bad. She could still talk after all. No, there were just going to be some ugly bruises for a while.

She needed to make the good Samaritan feel useful, otherwise shed never leave her alone. They need to feel like they helped someone. It helps them sleep better. "I just need to get home. Maybe you could call a cab?"

[hungover-and-broke-student]

"You're okay. You're safe now." - @quiitecontrary

@quiitecontrary

She choked up the last few lungfuls of water, desperate to taste air again instead of bitter metallic tang of Gotham's harbor. There was no sign of Crane nor the Bat, and judging by the moon hanging high above, she'll be walking home tonight.

As she blinked the last of the water out of her eyes, something about this stranger felt... familiar. Though it was impossible to pin down exactly what or why. Something about the way her brows furrowed with concern and shape of her eyes and nose. The answer felt so close, but just out of reach. She didn't look like a cop or act like one. If she thought Riley was simply a civilian caught up in a scheme, she might as well roll with it.

"Th-thank you. I don't think I recognize your costume... are you a new Bat assistant?"

[babydxhl]

@quiitecontrary | continued from x.

Mary lets her silence stretch out, long, weaponised — making her thoughts on bulletproof probabilities and dark horses abundantly clear. It's a tactic she uses often. The quiet becomes pointed and uncomfortable, Mary's fingertips still passing the roll of cash back and forth, one hand to the other.

But then she tilts her chin and nods at the group behind her; two of them quickly clear away the money and depart via a side door, leaving three at Mary's back still watching on, impassive.

There are so many coming and going to Gotham. Coming in on buses, boats, on their own two feet. Going out in body bags. Or never leaving at all, and only bobbing with the tides at the bottom of the Gotham Bay.

"You know what happens to horses who don't make any money, don't you?" Mary quips, amusement in the corner of her mouth, but she raises an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I should bet on you?"

[babydxhl]

"Are you confused about who i am?" Asked while wearing a full set of mismatched armor with FL crudely scratched into the chest piece, but with the scratches going through the letters maybe the choice to put them at all was regretted later on. - @quiitecontrary

hannibal sentence starters | still accepting.

"You look like you're about to get fired from your part-time job as a children's party entertainer," Mary intones, sounding bored.

She tilts her head to better examine this intruder from her spot at the long conference table, then glances at the half-dozen men and woman around her. They've stopped counting the money. They watch, eyes darting between their boss and the figure in the door, waiting.

"Did you spend a lot of money on that armour?" she calls after a beat. Still feigning boredom, she reaches for one of the rolls of cash and fiddles with it, tosses it up like a child's toy. "Enough for it to be bulletproof? You might want to think about that before you decide what you want from me."