NINJAMEME MASTERPOST 8|

[whatfriendsdo]

I have nothing to say here DEAL W/I.

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[whatfriendsdo]

[She stares, waiting for the pieces to click, and when they do she's not sure she heard him right. Even if she did hear him right, she has no idea what to say to that. That's a Harry answer. A Thomas or a Molly answer.

Sense of humor: another thing she doesn't associate with Batman.

So her expression shifts from blank stare to hard stare, and she focuses on the air past the fire, not looking straight at it to try and keep the brightness from leaving spots on her vision.]

[cowled]

[It's not Batman that has the sense of humour, it's Bruce Wayne. And Karrin brings out that side of him more than she should.]

I have friends in the right places. They'll come.

[Ollie owes him a few favours anyway.]

[whatfriendsdo]

When? [There's a little irony in it, but not much. Adding before or after we freeze to death doesn't feel like it would be in good taste.

She presses her thumb hard against one bandaged fingertip, searching for the pain, wondering how badly a finger has to be damaged before it gets cut off.] You're not what I expected. ...Not sure what I expected, but you're not it.

[cowled]

Soon.

[His fingers are stiff and cold, but he types out a message on the communicator. Better that Karrin doesn't hear Ollie's voice unless he's prepared to disguise it.

He stops midway through it, though. He isn't quite sure how to address her second statement. So he simply chooses to ignore it, finishes his message and sends it off.]

[whatfriendsdo]

[The pause is telling, in its own way. At the very least it invites her to keep talking.]

Informative. [Murphy holds her hands out to the fire, hoping proximity to the heat will return some sensation to her fingers.] Are we going to speak in film references and monosyllables until then? You should eat something too. You're no good to anyone frozen, either.

[cowled]

[Do you want to know how many people tell Batman that he really should look after himself more, and how many of those people he listens to?

None. That's how many.

Alfred has taken to drugging his food when he wants him to get a good night's rest. He watches her trying to warm her fingers, and shakes his head, tossing a non-working piston out of the helicopter into the fire. It's solid steel. He gives it sufficient time to warm up, and drags it out again with care, brushing the back of his hand against it. It's hot, but not quite enough to burn. He holds it out for her.]

Wrap your fingers around this if you can. Hold it against your body if you can't.

[Also known as: he's not hungry.]

[whatfriendsdo]

[This time she doesn't listen. Just glares.] Eat.

[cowled]

[He also takes directions so well.]

Between the two of us, I'm the one who hasn't worked himself bloody to prove a point. Trust that I won't.

[whatfriendsdo]

[She jams her fingers back under her arms rather than take the offered piston.] The junk. Has edges. I got what we needed, didn't I?

[Murphy scowls out into the dark, wriggling her fingertips against her sleeves underneath the blanket.] It won't kill you to have some food.

[cowled]

No. It wouldn't. But I don't need it at the moment. Should that change, I'll eat something.

[Gosh.]

[whatfriendsdo]

[She makes an aggravated noise and balls in on herself, turning into nothing but a blonde crown and furious blue eyes locked on the shadows beyond the fire like there's something there to see. This way, at least, she keeps her body heat tucked close, and her hands sandwiched between chest and knees.]