the one who awaits you will never let you feel lonely. know this, at least

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"People Who Make Good First Impressions Usually Suck"

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[The boy had been waiting for hours. He won't admit to being anxious, he's been left before, he isn't a child left in the maze, sobbing into his hands in the dark, unsure if the shadows are moving towards him--

the shadows here are interrupted by the neon lights of the supermarket. he hides himself in the alley beside it and a laundromat, watching the masses steadily stream in and out. Anyone stupid enough to pass through his hiding spot aren't too stupid that they won't give him a wide berth, ducking down, avoiding eye contact.

It's cold, the kind of cold that nips all the way to the bone. when his veins are filled with electrum, that won't be a problem-- a noise in the alley catches his attention. he turns slightly, knife between his fingers ]

[deadbirdarising]

[Tuesday was chore day. It had started Before, when his mother had put on music and scrubbed the tiny apartment so that when Jason had gotten home from school, it smelled like lemon cleaner and fresh incense. She'd scoop him up and together they'd make the walk to the little bodega around the corner, shopping list in hand and a wagon of laundry behind them.

Later, when Willis was gone and his mother refused to leave the comfort of her high, Jason had kept the tradition. He cleaned to the best of his ability, then tried to gather up what laundry he could find. Money was tight, but he made it work, coming home with wet laundry to be hung around the apartment to dry and a bag of cheap pasta and damaged cans.

Now that he was by himself, he saw no reason to stop. It was a different apartment and his clothes all fit in a single backpack instead of a wagon, but he still dutifully made the weekly trip. At the ripe age of eleven, he'd long ago gotten over his fear of Gotham's alleyways. He knew them almost better than he knew the main streets. Which ones to avoid, which ones provided the most shelter from storms or cold.

Which ones could be counted on to find the opportunity to earn twenty bucks.

The alley between the bodega and the laundromat wasn't a populated one usually, so the boy hadn't hesitated to cut through it in an attempt to shave off a few minutes of travel. He hadn't expected to run into anyone, and yet-]

What the hell are you wearing?

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[a smaller boy. this particular boy isn't the best at ages-- having only seen a few children his age down below, but this one has to be younger than he is. he's alone. he may not know much, a bumpkin in a big city, but he knows that this isn't normal. there's usually an adult accompanying a child this small.

he shrugs, peering at the other boy through his eyelashes-- he isn't a threat. no weapons on him, doesn't move like a fighter. he doesn't feel safe, but he knows he can handle it.]

Where your parents?

[his voice croaks like the gate of a graveyard. unused for-- he isn't quite sure]

[deadbirdarising]

[Estimating Jason's age was not helped by the fact that he was so small. He looked younger than his already young years, and yet he was one in that alley who had a coat on. It was old and had holes, but it was still there.

He cocked his head at the sound of that rough voice, frowning softly. The older boy sounded...rough. Not sick, not like how he sounded when his chest rattled and he couldn't get warm even with all his clothes layered on and wrapped in all his blankets, but something close to that. And it was cold. Jason shook his head and pursed his lips before he reached up to pull his scarf off and hand it over to the other boy.]

It's clean, washed it last week. Gunna wash more now if ya wanna come an' sit inside? It'll be warmer an' Rudy won' kick ya out if yous is sittin' wit' me. But I ain' workin' today. Yous can sit, but if yous is lookin' for more, ya can piss off. Got it?

[His accent was thick East side Gotham and the curse word rolled off his tongue like he said it every day.]

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[his fingers curl around the soft material of the scarf before he can stop himself, before he realizes it-- he'd reached out, made contact with someone from up above. but the scarf is very soft, he hasn't felt softness like this since-- quilted blankets in his cot, the scent of herbs, a woman's laughter--

he focuses on the rest of what the boy says, brow furrowing under his mask. it shows in the exposed mouth]

Don't want more. [the scarf is already-- it's cold and this boy is out here alone?? a talon could get him if he isn't careful.]

Careful.

[is what he says instead, nodding towards the building this boy is clearly aiming for. the promise of warmth is nice...but he'd rather make sure nothing sees Jason]

[deadbirdarising]

[The boy reached out and for a moment Jason considers that he might have made a mistake...but then his fingers are curling around the scarf and Jason's shoulders relaxed a little. At least until he realized the kid wasn't actually putting the scarf on.]

Yous is really new at dis, aincha? Here- [He stepped forward, making sure to broadcast his movements so he didn't accidentally startle this kid who'd probably never been in a situation like this before. If the kid didn't stop him, he gently took the scarf and looped it around the boy's neck, keeping it loose but tucking the tails into his...shirt? to keep it secure.]

Pull up the front a little, it'll trap ya breath an' stay warm, but it'll freeze if it gets too wet. So...only pull it up if yous is really cold, yeah? Come on, it's warm in here.

[He offered a kind, lopsided smile before he lead the way through the alley and onto the sidewalk proper. From there, it was just a matter of going inside. It was loud with the back bank of dryers running, but it was warm and Jason rubbed his hands together as feeling started to come back into them.]

Go sit, I'll be just a sec. You got anyt'ing you wanna wash? I ain' gotta full load, so I got room.

[backendbat]

[he flinches at the contact, the careful tucking, and his shoulders tense, readying himself for pain and hurt, for cruelty--

but when the boy gives him that lopsided smile, his shoulders untuck minutely. again, it isn't like he can't handle it, the boy is tiny. but. he leads him into that warm, loud room, his pale cheeks immediately flushing with the heat of it seeping into him, down his still limbs, right to his toes in the steel-toed boots. he can't help but hang back awkwardly, half his attention flicks to the window.

no handler. the boy's voice draws his attention back.]

Got nothing. Just careful. [he urges again; because it's empty, here, no one ogling the strange duo, but empty enough to draw attention.

he also doesn't sit; decides to stand there like a boogeyman, those blue eyes on Jason's movements, idle more than curious]

[deadbirdarising]

[That was the second time the boy had urged him to be careful and Jason grinned a little.]

You keep tellin' me ta be careful, but yous is the one who doesn' know how ta wear a scarf.

[It was a gentle tease, though. He'd seen that flinch, could guess what it meant. He'd done much the same himself, if he were honest. He didn't want to make the kid think he was going to get rough with his teasing, though, so he was careful to keep it lighthearted as he swung his backpack around and started dragging a chair towards the second bank of washers.

The boy's footsteps following him made him pause, but only offered a small shrug before he continued with the small chore of setting up the chair in front of an empty washer and climbing up onto it so he could actually start pulling his clothes out and load the machine. When his bag was empty, he glanced over towards the empty customer service desk before hurriedly pulling out a scrap of bar soap and a pocket knife, shaving a few delicate peels into the basin before he stashed the bar and knife back.

Lid closed, five quarters carefully slotted into the change pusher and then the machine was filling and Jason was climbing down off the chair. It wobbled ominously, but held until the boy was back on the ground.]

Ya hungry? Gotta granola bar in my bag if ya wan' it?

[backendbat]

[he does what an owl does second-best: he watches him drag the chair, scrape the soap, step back down without the coins he'd carefully brought, watches through his dull gaze.

when the chair's done wobbling, the owl boy points at it, then at Jason]

No. You eat.

[okay, this little kid is alone, has only a bar to eat, and he's out here in the dark? this owl boy almost feels like crowding the kid until he knows he'll leave, back into the safety, and the light.

then again this is still gotham, and from what he remembers of gotham-- no. he takes that moment to duck a little into the scarf-- it smells okay. not bad. just like it's been around the other boy, warm from him, from the pasta he's eaten this past week]

[deadbirdarising]

[It was weird. Not in a bad way, just...weird. Like having an overprotective shadow watching everything he did. Or a really well trained guard dog, like the kind that patrolled the junkyards over on 5th and W. Hammond. It was weird.

But it wasn't unwelcome.

Dragging the chair back over to the wall where he'd found it, Jason sat and then pointed to the one next to him. His bag got pulled up into his lap and he opened one of the smaller, front zippers, pulling out a slightly malformed but still in it's wrapper granola bar. 'Strawberry Creme' the packaging said and Jason carefully broke the bar in half, handing one over to his company.]

We both eat. I'm Jason, but you can call me Jay if you want. What's your name?

[backendbat]

[if you give a trained assassin a scarf-- you have to give him a granola bar. if you give him a granola bar, you're probably stuck with him at least until your errands are done.

he sits. takes half of the bar with careful fingers, like he'll break it, or break the other boy-- the meals he eats aren't unlike this. military ration types, all taste the same, and certainly don't smell like this dubiously fruity bar.

Jason. the boy's name is Jason. he recalls from somewhere long, long ago, the name is a name for someone of healing.

his name takes a moment to rise to the surface. he's been referred to as 'the boy' for so long, it takes a moment for him to croak it out]

Richard.

[deadbirdarising]

[Richard.

It didn't fit the older boy, but Jason didn't mind. 'Jason' didn't exactly fit him, either. His mother had always just called him 'Jay' and he liked that. If this strange boy wanted to be called 'Richard', then so be it.

He smiled, bright and pleased as he took his first careful bite of his half of the bar.]

Nice to meetcha! Yous new to here? I haven't seen ya before an' I know most everyone. If yous want, I can show ya 'round? Not today, though. Tuesdays are chore days.

[Across the room there was the sound of shuffling and then a middle aged, heavy set man was sinking into the previously empty chair behind the service desk. He huffed, eyeing the two boys before calling out.

No tricks in my laundromat, Jay!

Jason rolled his eyes, but raised a hand with his middle finger extended towards the chuckling man.]

Ignore him, he's just mad he's stuck in this joint.

[backendbat]

[the other b-- Jason. Jason doesn't exactly talk fast, but it's a bit to parse out for the talon in training. he isn't so afraid that he's going to run off. that...makes no sense, so Jason clearly needs someone to make sure he gets where he's going. a handler or something like it.

at the sound of another person interrupting this little bubble of quiet, of peace and ain't that some shit beneath the sound of endless screaming and the thud of blows landing on bodies Richard bristles, his eyes narrowing behind the mask at the man.]

Safe?

[the man doesn't have proper balance, probably hasn't been in many fights in his life. Richard could take him and shield the boy at the same time.]

Been here. Down.

[deadbirdarising]

[The sudden tension in the other boy was hard to miss and Jay tilted his head a little as he glanced between Richard and Rudy. Rudy, who had apparently completely missed the fact that his life was in danger, too busy shaking out his newspaper and leaning back in his chair so he could prop his feet up on the desk.

Carefully, Jason reached out and laid his hand on Richard's arm. The armor was strange under his palm, but he didn't let it keep him from trying to be at least a little reassuring.]

Hey, it's okay. He's harmless, for the most part. All hot air an' fluff.

[He didn't take his hand back, just letting it rest as he took another small bite of his bar.]

Down? Like in the spillways? But don' those flood?

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[oh

that's--

the steam doesn't entirely leave Richard, but the shock-- the impact, as powerful as a blow-- of the first time someone's set a gentle touch upon him in-- he doesn't know how long. that's enough for his shoulders to untick just a little, for the anticipation in his legs, straining muscles, to ease.

the man doesn't pay any more attention, either, so if Jason isn't worried...]

No. Further. No trespassing. [in case he wanted to visit or anything]

[deadbirdarising]

[He smiled encouragingly when the older boy relaxed under his hand, stroking his thumb in slow, wide arcs like his momma used to do for him. It had always eased his own fears, so maybe it would help with Richard's?

Even under the strange, beaked mask he could tell those sharp eyes were back on him and no longer on the heavy weight of the man behind the desk.]

Don' worry, I gotcha. 's long as yous is safe.

[He gave the boy's arm another squeeze before he let go to twist so he could grab his bag again. A beat up, label less plastic bottle was pulled from a side pocket and he unscrewed the dingy looking cap before he held it out in offering.]

Here. Rudy lets me fill up for free, so drink whatcha want.

[He gestured over to the old washtub as if to prove that he could refill it.]

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I got you.

[said a little bit more defensively, the inflection in his voice, for once. he's the one that's going to be protecting Jason, not the other way around. he isn't useless. he can do this.

he stares curiously at the bottle, then at the washtub, and if he could see his face he'd see the raised eyebrow]

[deadbirdarising]

[The defensiveness makes his grin widen. It was cute how protective this boy was being. A stray dog, lured home with scraps of granola bar and learning how to sleep at the foot of a pallet bed. It would be worrisome if it were anyone else, but Jason had never worried much about his own safety as long as those around him were taken care of.

When he doesn't take the bottle, though, the younger boy shrugged and chugged the water left in it before he got up and made his way over to the wash bin. It took a minute for the water to run clean -it almost always did in the Bowery- but then he was refilling the bottle and carefully drying it with the tail of his shirt as he made his way back.]

Yous prob'ly right. Drinking outta the tap in the Bowery isn't the best, but bottled water is expensive. It's been a bit since Scarecrow or Two Face dumped somethin' in it, though, so it should be fine.

[backendbat]

[oh, he thought--

no, the boy isn't used to. any of this, but certainly water from the tap. he hasn't begun to wonder where their food and water comes from, and perhaps that's for the best at this point. let him worry about Jason, and himself, and whether or not his handler is somewhere out there waiting and readying punishment. or perhaps this is all a test, too, to see what he'd do at the first taste of freedom.

laundry, apparently.]

Warm. [he says, pointedly, to Jason-- pointing back to his chair, his eyes also on the washing machine as everything tumbles inside]

omg, I cannot wait until the next time they meet and Jay has lost this street accent. XD

[deadbirdarising]

[If this was a test, Jason's presence was skewing the results. Though, maybe the result was simply that the boy hadn't killed him. It certainly was a result, anyway.

They were certainly a pair, that was for sure.]

Yeah, it gets pretty warm in here. It's all da dryers. Muggy in da summer, but now? Now, it's nice. Make the walk home colder, but probably not for yous.

[He reached out, lightly flicking his fingertip over the armor on the older boy's chest.]

Gunna have ta go next door after I put my clothes in the dryer. Got some groceries to buy. Yous don' have ta go wit me if yous don' want, though. 'Swarm in here.

rofl i'm soooo sorry!

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Yourself?

[he doesn't flinch at the light poke-- barely blinks, owlishly, like he's trying to get sleep out of his eyes. it has nothing to do with the warmth lingering in his limbs, slowing his thinking, slightly.

too comfortable.]

Not alone.

[he's apparently getting a guard dog in there, too]

No, I'm sorry that you have to read it. XD

[deadbirdarising]

Not alo-?

[He let the word trail off, head tilting at the older boy. He giggled, sounding as young as he was supposed to be for just those few moments.]

Yous an odd ducky, Richard. I'm always 'lone. Yous don' have to take care'a me.

[He drew his legs up onto the rickety old chair, trusting it not to break as he wrapped his arms around them. He was so small, the old wood barely creaked.]

'Less yous is wantin' a meal? Cause I can do that if yous hungry. Eat the bar, too. Don' let it go ta waste.

no! i think its adorable and very authentic

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[There's a fierce frown behind the mask-- Jason can probably see it in the shape of his shoulders, the way he doesn't continue eating that bar.]

Not hungry. Will go with you. Shouldn't be alone.

[Jason's about as tiny as Richard was Before. And that's how he'd gotten caught up in the Owl's web. He was all alone, spoke just enough English to be brushed off and ignored]

[deadbirdarising]

[It surprised him, that absolute certainty in Richard's rigid body. Caught him a little off guard. The only people who cared about him being alone were people who either wanted to put him in the foster system or people who wanted to...use him for other things. And yet, this weird boy was neither.

It was strange, but it felt oddly nice? Like maybe someone gave a shit about him after all?

He shifted, the wood creaking under him as he nibbled on his half of the fruit bar.]

Why do yous care so much? I'm jus' some kid wit dirty knees an' a motor mouth. Why do yous care if I'm 'lone?

[backendbat]

You shouldn't be. No one should. [he answers carefully, but still with that certainty and conviction-- not kids like this, vulnerable kids, no matter how tough they are.]

Could get hurt bad. Worse. Don't deserve it.

[he was once a motor mouth with dirty knees, climbing everything and everyone]