(no subject)
Knox, in shirtsleeves and looking a bit disheveled, steps into the Bar and breathes a sigh of relief as cool, clean air fills his lungs. At home, it's June. And at home, it's hot. Humid. Hazy. And rancid. He is sure that there are people who labor all winter to invent new stenches for summertime Gotham.
He heads to get a well-needed beer. Come say hi.
He heads to get a well-needed beer. Come say hi.