There's a lot about this world that makes his teeth itch, a lot of it, but the voice inside his head, his constant companion, had been very very firm on the point. It'd made traveling very frustrating, but eventually he'd gotten to where he was going, and then it'd been a simple enough matter of making his way in during a particularly well-populated party.
Of course, he's not really sure of what's going on, so anything past the weather is a little beyond him, which is why he ends up sitting around with a small pack of dogs, chatting with them. Dog conversation was pretty simple, after all, but always satisfying.
Sandy's been getting used to the barge for almost a week now, though to be fair, he's not really getting used to the barge. As weird things go, a space-traveling barge (seen it) run by a semi-omnipotent ineffable being (that too) filled with a number of different people from different worlds (yup, you guessed it) some of which were dead (sort of? sometimes? The Dreaming was a weird kind of place) was actually pretty normal for his life, even if the combination was new. No, what he was getting used to was sleep.
Dreams.
He hasn't had those for years at this point.
It's wonderful.
He still stays up too much, drinks too much coffee. Habits will be habits after all. And he tries not to be chipper when he's in public because for goodness sake, he's on a prison barge with people who are there against their will.
...but sometimes it's really hard. Especially the morning after a dream where he got to fly.
It almost makes up for not being able to travel through the walls and floors around here, though at least he can still travel a little when he goes to the greenhouse or takes a spin in the Enclosure. Other than that, he's usually to be found in the gym practicing, keeping in shape like he's been doing for years, or in the cafeteria, working on the cookie recipe he'd been told by Ma Hunkle but never seemed to be able to replicate to be quite as good.
Since the Emperor left, Iris has been entirely responsible for the beehives. This includes spending time socialising with the bees; Iris always finds the contact with their hivemind peculiarly soothing, with its orderly joy. Like living in a musical score.
She sits in the long grass, singing softly in time with the bees' constant communication, while they tickle her face and fingers, tasting the news of the Barge on her skin.
Something changes in the song's timbre and she looks up.
There's no physical disturbance from his travels; the walls he slip through at home remain walls no matter how many times he walks through them. But bees are subtle creatures and it's no wonder that they sense his movements. That someone else has makes him wonder if he was thinking particularly loud or happened to make any of it move or shift in an absent bit of effervescence.
After a moment, though, he lets himself slip halfway out of the soil, still entirely made of the stuff so it might make for an odd image but there it is.
"Sorry. I hope I wasn't intruding. Just getting a bit of time in the soil."
There are some things that are fated to be and others that just sort of happen. It was hard to say which one this was, given how much coincidence was involved, but they'd both probably wonder for the rest of their days, considering.
But the facts are the matter are these: Clark had just moved to Metropolis. He'd found an apartment that was larger than a closet, not too far from his new job at the Planet, with a good falafel cart regularly open on the corner, good roof access, that didn't cost him his entire paycheck.
He was taking advantage of the roof access, coming in from a quick night's work as... whatever he was, hero-saving-guy, when he realized that he wasn't actually alone on the roof.
And she definitely looked like some sort of... well...
Well, this wasn't supposed to happen. Not in the slightest. After all, Selina had taken the ferry across to Metropolis in order to remove some of the heat from her crimes from her back. Gotham was locking up all of it's treasures tighter than she'd ever seen because of her antics, and it just wasn't that fun anymore. When one added in the return of the Bat? Well, time to gather her equipment and take this show on the road.
Like in Gotham, Selina had picked an apartment that wouldn't give away what she did or how much money she was both giving away and socking away. She'd chosen this place for the roof access as well, and had memorized all of the rooftops that she could utilize in order to get from those big fancy penthouses to here. Really, Selina had planned for everything that she could have thought of. Unfortunately, she'd never thought that she'd be caught by someone in her own building.
Taking two steps close to him in her catsuit, with her bag on her back, Selina just smiled broadly. It was an amused and dangerous sort of smile. Spreading her hands wide, she just shrugged a little bit. "If I say that I'm guilty as charged are you going to call the cops on me?" The amusement in her smile carried into her voice, and it was almost almost a dare.
"Well," he says, frowning just a little, "if I called the cops on you, you might just mention that I was flying a minute ago?"
And where he lived. Which would be really really really bad?
"So, uh... I don't suppose I can convince you to put whatever's in that bag back where it came from?"
He doesn't sound like he's making violent or uncomfortable threats, unless you're talking about discomfort in himself. He's definitely discomforted at the moment, as much from the awkwardness of the situation as anything else.
"If you do, we can just kind of... go our separate ways?"
Selina just watched his awkwardness with what might be construed by some as a fond smile with more than just a hint of amusement. But her eyes were calculating as she stepped closer to him, that smile widening a bit as she did it.
One hand rested on her hip, when she spoke. "I wasn't going to mention that, actually. About the me telling them that you just happened to be the brand new flying hero in town. I'm sure that I'd get immunity for that." For at least the large amount of money in diamonds that she was carrying. The rest of the things that she had been in trouble for, well, that was a probably not thing.
Taking two steps forward, Selina watched him for a long moment. "Or, I suppose, Mr. Kent, you could just let me go home and we can both pretend we didn't see each other and have no idea about each other's nightly proclivities."
When he wakes up and there's the smell of cooking food, good food, delicious savory things that are clearly sizzling in the kitchen, there's a warm flood of happiness and affection that flows through him. It's not something that he's used to yet, something this simple and good, but it's not something he'd ever turn his nose up at. Especially when he knows how fabulous the master of ceremonies at this particular event happens to be.
"That smells amazing," and he'll have to figure out something nice he can do for her. NOT cooking for her was almost good enough but not quite.
Justine loved her time with Thomas. It wasn't simple, nothing in life was simple, but the time belonged to her and none of those complications. She stood in front of the stove top making a pretty standard breakfast. There's toast, eggs, bacon and fruit already on the table when Thomas pulls himself from the bed.
A warm smile played across her lips as she placed another plate down on the table. "I hope it tastes as good." Amusement danced in her dark eyes. "Good morning."
'Standard' is still leagues and bounds better than what he's capable of, and he can't help being torn between the delicious breakfast and his gorgeous girlfriend for a minute or two. He does decide, though, digging into the food (since it'll get cold and Justine will be gorgeous after he eats it) and he offers an enthusiastic thumbs up.
Justine would snack while she cooked and because of that, she never ate very much. She had placed a bowl of fruit at the center of the table and was now picking off a grape and slowly pushing it between her lips. Justine had a weakness for fruit.
"Good morning." Her voice was soft, warm and affectionate as she took a second grape.
She liked watching him do most things but first thing in the morning or late at night were her favorite times. It was when they could be alone and enjoy each other's company without having to put on a show for those around them. "Hungry?" She asks softly, knowing full well that the word has two meanings for him.
But it's not even out of his mouth for a full breath before he's jumping back from the bus that appears in the second basement parking lot of the rebuilt JSA brownstone. Not that it matters. He'll just slip his phone into his pocket and grin look a fool because his lady is here.
"That'll teach me to ask for schedulin' from a Time Lady..."
"Oh, right about now," Iris answers without the phone, as she tumbles out of the bus with a blend of speed, grace and enthusiasm reminiscent of a golden retriever hearing her leash rattle. Her forward progress only stops when she's halfway up Ted.
"You never said if we're doing business, pleasure or both. Good thing I've got a versatile wardrobe, eh? 'Ow you doing, sexy?"
By versatile Iris means a skintight scarlet bodysuit made of Barbara's patented protective vigilante wear, made with a chunky gold and rhinestone zipper that starts between her breasts and stops somewhere south of her navel, and her gold dragonhide boots with the antigrav thruster heels.
"Well, if you want stealth I might 'ave to get changed, mind you, but stealth's not exactly me strong suit. I'm generally Team Loud Distraction when that sort of thing's needed, me."
She bounces on her heels without needing to engage the antigrav, practically vibrating with excitement.
He's got an arm full of gorgeous broad (Time Lady, he keeps in mind, but mostly just in case someone asks) and that means that the first order of business is to lay one on her but good and make sure she knows just how much he appreciates her showing up. Specially with the get up she's got going on. Let's just say he's a fan.
What she loves about Ted is his perfect blend of soothing and exhilarating. He's soothing because he's straightforward: Iris' insides are quivering because she really doesn't know what adventure she's about to be taken on, but underpinning that is the solid certainty that it won't include doubts, frustrations or sudden weird emotional roadblocks. He is exactly what it says on the tin: rather more man than the tin should be able to contain, certainly, but very clearly labelled. She's not exactly dissatisfied with her Barge love life, but nothing about it is straightforward and none of it cuts to the chase. Iris likes to cut to the chase.
She clings to him, hooking her legs unashamedly around his waist and her arms around his neck, and she throws everything she has into kissing him back. Either this is the answer to her question or it's not going to be answered for a bit, and that's fine by Iris.
...he's starting to wonder why he'd agreed to this, but here he is, waiting in the coffee shop to meet one of Bruce Wayne's former proteges so he could shoot him a few times and see the exact same thing as he'd see if he shot a dune at the beach.
Except, you know, with a face.
Yeah, he was great at this whole socializing thing.
Jason doesn’t take that long to meet him there, a grin on his face as he opens the door. He’d gotten there early and waited for Sandy to take a seat first like he usually does with anyone he meets, but since he was there literally to talk about shooting him he didn’t think he had to be extra paranoid about his own safety, for once.
“Didn’t know if you were actually going to show up.” He teases as he takes the seat in front of him.
"Why would I tell you it was fine and set up a meet up and then not show up?" is his question, because that makes no sense to him. Not only would it be rude, it'd be illogical. Not really his style.
"To get me off your back? To amuse yourself? Because you were pissed? Got second thoughts?"
He shrugs. "List is long, not many people would actually volunteer to get shot at and then actually show up. Got any idea on where we should do it?" Jason's tone makes it very clear he does have an idea already.
When he wakes up in the hospital, he doesn't realize it's the hospital at first because, well, there's purring on top of his chest. He blinks, shoving up one of the bandages a little to see the little black cat curled up on top of him, and he's surprised to find that he's not actually familiar with this cat, out of all the ones that he usually feeds back at 'home'. He's worried, that one of the nurses will see and yell at him, or that they'd hurt the little creature, either intentionally or just by trying to get him out of the building. That's why he sighs a little and ends up folding his hands around the kitten, holding him in a way that makes him look like nothing so much as the shadow of those large hands...
One eye opens when Randel moves. It may or may not be judgemental, it's hard to tell when a cat stares, but there does appear to be some intelligence behind the visible yellow eye.
He lets out another low (high pitched for a kitten) rumble and shuts his eyes again, snuggling into those large hands. The nurses have been trying to get him to leave for a while now and has mostly given up when Sissel kept finding his way back into the room.
Which reminds him. Without even looking, he stretches out with his ghostly powers and clicks the hospital door open. He may or may not have tried to lock the nurses out of the room for a while. There's only so much shooing away a cat can take.
Sissel let out a soft puff of air, ear flicking in acknowledgement. His powers have grown little by little over time so there are more ways he's learned to communicate, aside from his cat language which considering the stray companies Randel keeps, the man definitely speaks.
He stares at Randel with both eyes now, flicking his gaze over to the jug of water on the bedside table just as he wobbles it a bit to make a sound. Does the patient want water? Granted, Sissel can't exactly pour it for him unless Randel doesn't mind a mess of spilled water.
As promised, Kal was at the door just before dinner time, and he could smell the lasagna through the door. It wasn't what he was looking forward to, but it would be a nice meal all the same. In his satchel, he'd brought a few things to help with the main purpose of his visit. A couple of knocks and he was smiling as the door opened.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Garion @Maggie
Of course, he's not really sure of what's going on, so anything past the weather is a little beyond him, which is why he ends up sitting around with a small pack of dogs, chatting with them. Dog conversation was pretty simple, after all, but always satisfying.
Sandy @ Iris
Dreams.
He hasn't had those for years at this point.
It's wonderful.
He still stays up too much, drinks too much coffee. Habits will be habits after all. And he tries not to be chipper when he's in public because for goodness sake, he's on a prison barge with people who are there against their will.
...but sometimes it's really hard. Especially the morning after a dream where he got to fly.
It almost makes up for not being able to travel through the walls and floors around here, though at least he can still travel a little when he goes to the greenhouse or takes a spin in the Enclosure. Other than that, he's usually to be found in the gym practicing, keeping in shape like he's been doing for years, or in the cafeteria, working on the cookie recipe he'd been told by Ma Hunkle but never seemed to be able to replicate to be quite as good.
[greenhouse]
She sits in the long grass, singing softly in time with the bees' constant communication, while they tickle her face and fingers, tasting the news of the Barge on her skin.
Something changes in the song's timbre and she looks up.
"Someone there?"
no subject
After a moment, though, he lets himself slip halfway out of the soil, still entirely made of the stuff so it might make for an odd image but there it is.
"Sorry. I hope I wasn't intruding. Just getting a bit of time in the soil."
Clark @ Selina
But the facts are the matter are these: Clark had just moved to Metropolis. He'd found an apartment that was larger than a closet, not too far from his new job at the Planet, with a good falafel cart regularly open on the corner, good roof access, that didn't cost him his entire paycheck.
He was taking advantage of the roof access, coming in from a quick night's work as... whatever he was, hero-saving-guy, when he realized that he wasn't actually alone on the roof.
And she definitely looked like some sort of... well...
"Cat burglar?"
no subject
Like in Gotham, Selina had picked an apartment that wouldn't give away what she did or how much money she was both giving away and socking away. She'd chosen this place for the roof access as well, and had memorized all of the rooftops that she could utilize in order to get from those big fancy penthouses to here. Really, Selina had planned for everything that she could have thought of. Unfortunately, she'd never thought that she'd be caught by someone in her own building.
Taking two steps close to him in her catsuit, with her bag on her back, Selina just smiled broadly. It was an amused and dangerous sort of smile. Spreading her hands wide, she just shrugged a little bit. "If I say that I'm guilty as charged are you going to call the cops on me?" The amusement in her smile carried into her voice, and it was almost almost a dare.
no subject
And where he lived. Which would be really really really bad?
"So, uh... I don't suppose I can convince you to put whatever's in that bag back where it came from?"
He doesn't sound like he's making violent or uncomfortable threats, unless you're talking about discomfort in himself. He's definitely discomforted at the moment, as much from the awkwardness of the situation as anything else.
"If you do, we can just kind of... go our separate ways?"
no subject
One hand rested on her hip, when she spoke. "I wasn't going to mention that, actually. About the me telling them that you just happened to be the brand new flying hero in town. I'm sure that I'd get immunity for that." For at least the large amount of money in diamonds that she was carrying. The rest of the things that she had been in trouble for, well, that was a probably not thing.
Taking two steps forward, Selina watched him for a long moment. "Or, I suppose, Mr. Kent, you could just let me go home and we can both pretend we didn't see each other and have no idea about each other's nightly proclivities."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Thomas @ Justine
"That smells amazing," and he'll have to figure out something nice he can do for her. NOT cooking for her was almost good enough but not quite.
Thomas @ Justine
A warm smile played across her lips as she placed another plate down on the table. "I hope it tastes as good." Amusement danced in her dark eyes. "Good morning."
She loved telling him good morning.
no subject
Delicious.
"Good morning," he gets out between bites.
no subject
"Good morning." Her voice was soft, warm and affectionate as she took a second grape.
She liked watching him do most things but first thing in the morning or late at night were her favorite times. It was when they could be alone and enjoy each other's company without having to put on a show for those around them. "Hungry?" She asks softly, knowing full well that the word has two meanings for him.
(no subject)
(no subject)
Ted @ Iris
But it's not even out of his mouth for a full breath before he's jumping back from the bus that appears in the second basement parking lot of the rebuilt JSA brownstone. Not that it matters. He'll just slip his phone into his pocket and grin look a fool because his lady is here.
"That'll teach me to ask for schedulin' from a Time Lady..."
no subject
"You never said if we're doing business, pleasure or both. Good thing I've got a versatile wardrobe, eh? 'Ow you doing, sexy?"
By versatile Iris means a skintight scarlet bodysuit made of Barbara's patented protective vigilante wear, made with a chunky gold and rhinestone zipper that starts between her breasts and stops somewhere south of her navel, and her gold dragonhide boots with the antigrav thruster heels.
"Well, if you want stealth I might 'ave to get changed, mind you, but stealth's not exactly me strong suit. I'm generally Team Loud Distraction when that sort of thing's needed, me."
She bounces on her heels without needing to engage the antigrav, practically vibrating with excitement.
"So what's up? What are we doing?"
no subject
no subject
She clings to him, hooking her legs unashamedly around his waist and her arms around his neck, and she throws everything she has into kissing him back. Either this is the answer to her question or it's not going to be answered for a bit, and that's fine by Iris.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Sandy @ Jason
Except, you know, with a face.
Yeah, he was great at this whole socializing thing.
no subject
“Didn’t know if you were actually going to show up.” He teases as he takes the seat in front of him.
no subject
no subject
He shrugs. "List is long, not many people would actually volunteer to get shot at and then actually show up. Got any idea on where we should do it?" Jason's tone makes it very clear he does have an idea already.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Randel @ Sissel
no subject
He lets out another low (high pitched for a kitten) rumble and shuts his eyes again, snuggling into those large hands. The nurses have been trying to get him to leave for a while now and has mostly given up when Sissel kept finding his way back into the room.
Which reminds him. Without even looking, he stretches out with his ghostly powers and clicks the hospital door open. He may or may not have tried to lock the nurses out of the room for a while. There's only so much shooing away a cat can take.
no subject
"Were the nurses giving you trouble?"
It earns him a few pets along his back, his hands remaining in place as he runs the side of his thumb down the line of Sissel's back.
no subject
He stares at Randel with both eyes now, flicking his gaze over to the jug of water on the bedside table just as he wobbles it a bit to make a sound. Does the patient want water? Granted, Sissel can't exactly pour it for him unless Randel doesn't mind a mess of spilled water.
Kal @ Leia