may be lonelier now, but I'm happy alone, honest
WHO: OPEN
WHERE: all over the city; rooftops
WHEN: night
WARNINGS: probably nothing
SUMMARY: Now that Jason is "retired" from City business, he's not on the streets as often. That doesn't actually mean he's behaving. For instance, here he is looking for who has the kris Talia gave him, and he's not planning on buying it back.
FORMAT: whatever you want
He had no emotional attachment to the knife itself, regardless of who had given it to him. Jason wasn't that kind of guy. He didn't name his weapons, cars, computers, or whatever the fuck men with money and pretense bothered to name. He didn't care if he never saw the kris again, quite frankly.
But it had been a good knife, and he didn't have much to do...
There was no point asking people about the kris. It would just be a big old hi! Welcome to Lie to My Fucking Face Hour! fest. He checked the private inventory of several specialty weapons shops around the City, broke into a few pawn shops, and bullied some infamous scavengers, all of which proved fruitless. After a few hours, he took to the rooftops to sit and think about his next move.
It was a clear, cold night, just windy enough that he reconsidered his decision to come up out of the rabbit warren of the city's underbelly. But the stars were faintly visible beyond the artificial glow of buildings and cars, so he paused, letting that strange empty feeling drain from his eyes to the vast overlying darkness of the sky. There was nothing for him here, but he knew why he was sticking around Carrie and Miho.
Talia would laugh, he thought vaguely but suddenly. He rarely thought of his benefactor anymore, the City was so far removed from those days of dead anger and confused lashing out. He had never missed her, though if she showed up tomorrow, he was sure he owed her too much simply let things be. No use dwelling on hypotheticals, though, or worrying about things that hadn't happened and might not ever happen. Pushing Talia from his mind, he absently moved the fingers of his right hand in a way that would have twirled the kris, had it been in his grasp, and stood on the ledge, listening.
WHERE: all over the city; rooftops
WHEN: night
WARNINGS: probably nothing
SUMMARY: Now that Jason is "retired" from City business, he's not on the streets as often. That doesn't actually mean he's behaving. For instance, here he is looking for who has the kris Talia gave him, and he's not planning on buying it back.
FORMAT: whatever you want
He had no emotional attachment to the knife itself, regardless of who had given it to him. Jason wasn't that kind of guy. He didn't name his weapons, cars, computers, or whatever the fuck men with money and pretense bothered to name. He didn't care if he never saw the kris again, quite frankly.
But it had been a good knife, and he didn't have much to do...
There was no point asking people about the kris. It would just be a big old hi! Welcome to Lie to My Fucking Face Hour! fest. He checked the private inventory of several specialty weapons shops around the City, broke into a few pawn shops, and bullied some infamous scavengers, all of which proved fruitless. After a few hours, he took to the rooftops to sit and think about his next move.
It was a clear, cold night, just windy enough that he reconsidered his decision to come up out of the rabbit warren of the city's underbelly. But the stars were faintly visible beyond the artificial glow of buildings and cars, so he paused, letting that strange empty feeling drain from his eyes to the vast overlying darkness of the sky. There was nothing for him here, but he knew why he was sticking around Carrie and Miho.
Talia would laugh, he thought vaguely but suddenly. He rarely thought of his benefactor anymore, the City was so far removed from those days of dead anger and confused lashing out. He had never missed her, though if she showed up tomorrow, he was sure he owed her too much simply let things be. No use dwelling on hypotheticals, though, or worrying about things that hadn't happened and might not ever happen. Pushing Talia from his mind, he absently moved the fingers of his right hand in a way that would have twirled the kris, had it been in his grasp, and stood on the ledge, listening.