Tempting Fate
*Ted caught the bus as dusk tightened its grip on Gotham and slowly dragged the city into true night. He was dressed for work, although he wasn't entirely certain he still had one. Still, it wouldn't be failure to show up that would cost it for him. He had stopped playing "These Boots Were Made for Walkin'" after about a day, although he still hummed the opening guitar riff under his breath every few minutes. He hadn't really talked to Rosie, outside of her journal, and he wasn't sure she had forgiven him. He wasn't sure she ever would, really, and he didn't blame her. That was one more situation where he might end up out on his bony butt, but not because he simply walked away. He rode behind the driver, ignoring the pile of filth and rags that might be a person hunched near the middle door and the androgynous couple who were desperately necking in the back. They were familiar presences, there most nights, same as him. They all knew the metropolitan rule of "don't look at it, don't listen to it, for god's sake don't talk to it." Words to live by. Or, in Gotham, survive. It was with the usual sigh of relief that he stepped off the bus, leaving its stenches and its pallid, goggle-eyed, unblinking driver behind for the favor of... yeah, that sigh didn't tend to stay one of relief for long, faced with his place of employment. Arkham was lovely by day, he imagined, all the gothic arches and ornamentation, but night conspired with the dim light and shadow of the city to transform the edifice into something sinister, a hulking mass of malignance, waiting patiently for some unknown moment, some unknown purpose. Still, better than Generitech by a long way. Flashlight in hand, key ring jangling against his hip, he made his way inside, nodding a greeting to the night head nurse at her post behind the desk.*
"Evening, Sally. What's the word?"
"Evening, Sally. What's the word?"