(Untitled)

[gotham_knocking]

It's April 18 for Knox. That means spring has arrived in Gotham. Which explains why his hat and coat and shoes and slacks are drenched when he enters. He dispenses with all but the slacks before getting a hot coffee.

At least, he thinks, it's not snowing. Come say hi.

[Tiny Tag of Terror: The Old Firm]

Comments

[mr_v_and_mr_c]

"You look a tad drenched, newspaper man," says a horribly familiar voice.

"That's an oxy-wassname, Mr. Croup."

"Oxymoron? Yes, I suppose it is. Or possibly a paradox. But since he was drenched, and he took most of the wet articles off, I thought it apropriate."

It's the Laurel and Hardy act from Hell again, Knox.

[gotham_knocking]

And he gathers his stuff together and makes like a bat out of Hell. Sorry, fellas.

[mr_v_and_mr_c]

Probably not a good idea to run from predators, you know. They tend to chase.

[gotham_knocking]

Good thing he is not far from the door home. Never mind that he will get drenched. He'll come back later. And hope that he can get past the wolves.

[betty_roberts]

There's a young woman typing (rather furiously) away on her trusty portable (well, by a 1940 definition of the word "portable") Underwood typewriter.

It's not exactly quiet.

She looks up every so often, to make sure she's not disturbing anyone.

"Sorry," she says, when she sees him nearby. "Is this going to bother you?"

[gotham_knocking]

"Heck, no. If anything, I miss that sound. Electric typewriters hum too much." He gives a bit a grin.

[betty_roberts]

He gets a bright smile, and a very interested, if slightly puzzled, expression.

"Electric typewriters?"

[gotham_knocking]

"Oh. You're from before they went electric. Wow. The Golden Age." Now he is quite intrigued. "I'm form 1992. Gotham City. Alex Knox."