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[glasgow_smile]

About seven minutes before the big countdown, many thousands of people, both physically in attendance and watching from the safety of their living rooms, shall witness the dapperly dressed mayor approaching the main podium, positioned close to the massive digital display. Leaning in to the cluster of microphones, he announces a very special message

Comments

[worstourist]

Guess who gets to spend their New Year's Eve doing crowd control instead of getting completely pissed in some out-of-the-way pub? Rookie-shorts Ray here. And everyone else on the GCPD, but you just shush about that, he's busy throwing a moody like it's just him. That friendly little broadcast? That does not improve his evening.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me..." the Irishman grumbles under his breath, just before a panicked crowd member knocks what would have been a dearly cherished beer bottle from his grasp. It crashes to the ground. He utters a long, put-upon sigh. He'd only just confiscated that, too.

It's time to do the policeman thing, then. Yeah, yeah, calm down all you mangy American cows and listen to the flaily-armed man with the badge. "Now everybody keep calm and exit in an orderly fashion--" Or not.

[goshdarnniteowl]

At least not everyone is losing their heads. See, look at that big (if someone nerdy-looking) guy in the coat, with the messenger bag, in that alley there? He doesn't seem to be more than a little freaked out.

He doesn't seem to be fleeing, either. Instead, he's talking into -- a walkie-talkie, and scanning the crowd, as he climbs backwards up a fire escape ladder.

Well, that isn't suspicious at all.

[worstourist]

Right. In Ray's book, the only people who would be using walkie-talkies in the middle of this crazed crowd are the police, the terrorists, and one of those crazy costumed vigilantes. Or people using Push to Talk to find their family members or conduct high-speed business meetings--ANYWAY. This guy could be one of the bad options!

Ray pushes through the crowd--erk, sorry guy he just elbowed in the stomach--toward that strange man on the fire escape. "Hey, you there!" he yells as he approaches. Whether the man can hear him over the shrieks of the crowd is anyone's guess, but perhaps the uniform is eye-catching enough?

[goshdarnniteowl]

Eyes going wide, Daniel almost drops the walkie talkie -- a perfect 'caught' face.

It would be stupid to run, and even more stupid to try and do anything to the cop. So -- he raises his hands, and drops a couple steps down the ladder in a more experienced way than a guy that nerdish should be able to (though his face does twist in pain a little).

"I'm trying to help!"

[worstourist]

Ray nearly skids to a halt when he gets to Daniel, arms bobbing about for balance. He was expecting running, that or actual innocence. This combo is not in the books. His groove, it is thrown off.

"What? What d'you mean, helping? What're you doing with that?" he points at the walkie-talkie like it's some sort of dangerous weapon. Maybe it is, how should he know? Who knows what the man could be talking about!

[goshdarnniteowl]

Hands still up in the air! "I've got a friend out there! We're trying to find a little girl. I can show you the picture."

But he's not even going to try to reach into his jacket pocket before the cop is good and warned and giving the okay. He's a Gotham native, thanks.

[worstourist]

"A little girl?" His eyes widen a titch for only half an instant, but the mighty pitch of his eyebrows is there to stay. Little kids are like insta-sympathy-brow triggers for Ray, swiftly obliterating suspicion toward the man.

"Well what're you standin' around for, then? Hurry up and show it," he insists hastily. He'll glance from side to side and fidget in the mean time. No little girls in sight here. Fuckin' crowds.

[goshdarnniteowl]

Daniel starts to do just this, reaching into his jacket pocket, but then something catches his eye, and snap. All business, he straightens up, craning his neck for a better view as he barks into his walkie talkie -- "Ten o'clock, O'Reilly pub. Guy just broke the window."

[worstourist]

"Hey, keep yer four eyes over here." Oh, now you've done it. Talking on that walkie-talkie when you should be talking to him--and about that. "You're one of them weirdos! Lookin' for a little girl my arse, gimme that." He holds a hand out for the walkie-talkie, though he doesn't make a grab for it. Yet. There's still time to get a few words in, if they're good ones.

[goshdarnniteowl]

"I'm telling the truth -- listen!" He's got one chance, here, he knows. Better make it count. "You can -- you can waste your time on me, or we can work together. These people need help."

Come on, come on, be a decent cop, please...

[worstourist]

"And they'll get it from you lot? I can hardly do my job as it is! Don't need to be dodgin' a pack of fuckin' vigilantes with their heads up their arses, do I?" He shakes his head. But decent cop (not good, but decent) is a label Ray can't quite slough off. His lips purse in a put-upon sigh.

"Don't break any laws and don't come cryin' to me if you get in a rut." Pause. "An' if you'll show me the little girl I'll keep me eye out," he adds begrudgingly.

[goshdarnniteowl]

Oh, thank God. "Yes, sir!" He reaches in his pocket, finally, and pulls out the photo. "Molly Drake. Her mother's Dr. Alex Drake, works at Arkham."

[worstourist]

Ray gives the picture a good look, doing his best to memorize the important details. Then a nod. "Alright, enough standin' around. Get on with you." He shoots a glance up the ladder and shakes his head a titch, thinking the guy crazy for going up there. But whatever, as long as he's out of Ray's hair.

He'll put out an alert about Molly on his own radio in a moment--who knows what good it will do, but it's something.

[goshdarnniteowl]

And Daniel will clamber back up the fire escape, and return to scanning the crowd, alerting whoever's on the other end of what he sees.

Who knows what good it will do, but it's something.