This is the first (thing I remember)/Now it's the last (thing left on my mind)
Who: Stubby Boardman and the Lone Ranger
When: Oct. 14th, noonish
Where: The sky.
Summary: Flying lessons
It was Claire's torture, really, that sent him to Sirius in the first place.
It wasn't that fact, particularly, that she had gotten tortured; that was sickening, sure, but commonplace for Jack. In a small way, he rather welcomed it; he ought to have known, really, that a city devoid of torture was something too good to hope for. It was refreshing to see the darker side of the city out in the open-- much easier to destroy it, after all, that way. And nor was it that he hadn't found Scarecrow in his hunt last night-- he would, he knew, inevitably, and once he did, revenge would occur. There was no room for doubt there; it would happen, one way or the other-- it was just a matter of when.
Really, it was that he was now twitchy-- twitchier than usual, anyway. He had woken at eight, body humming with fear and tension, and had been jumping at small noises and pacing the apartment ever since. Wandering around the city didn't help; he ended up even more tense, scared someone would leap out and attack him. But returning home didn't either; he ended up convinced he was wasting time, even if, logically, he knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do about Scarecrow or Claire right now.
So he ended up, as, it seemed, he inevitably did, plunking down on Sirius's bed and staring over at his roommate, his expression more serious than he liked.
"You," he murmured, "owe me flyin' lessons."
Why not, after all? It was guaranteed to get his mind off of things for a moment or three, and perhaps-- god, he hoped so-- perhaps flying would relax him slightly. After all, there were no enemies in the air, were there? No doctors, no nurses, no torture; nothing except clouds and sun and moon and stars, all welcoming, all very much missed.
When: Oct. 14th, noonish
Where: The sky.
Summary: Flying lessons
It was Claire's torture, really, that sent him to Sirius in the first place.
It wasn't that fact, particularly, that she had gotten tortured; that was sickening, sure, but commonplace for Jack. In a small way, he rather welcomed it; he ought to have known, really, that a city devoid of torture was something too good to hope for. It was refreshing to see the darker side of the city out in the open-- much easier to destroy it, after all, that way. And nor was it that he hadn't found Scarecrow in his hunt last night-- he would, he knew, inevitably, and once he did, revenge would occur. There was no room for doubt there; it would happen, one way or the other-- it was just a matter of when.
Really, it was that he was now twitchy-- twitchier than usual, anyway. He had woken at eight, body humming with fear and tension, and had been jumping at small noises and pacing the apartment ever since. Wandering around the city didn't help; he ended up even more tense, scared someone would leap out and attack him. But returning home didn't either; he ended up convinced he was wasting time, even if, logically, he knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do about Scarecrow or Claire right now.
So he ended up, as, it seemed, he inevitably did, plunking down on Sirius's bed and staring over at his roommate, his expression more serious than he liked.
"You," he murmured, "owe me flyin' lessons."
Why not, after all? It was guaranteed to get his mind off of things for a moment or three, and perhaps-- god, he hoped so-- perhaps flying would relax him slightly. After all, there were no enemies in the air, were there? No doctors, no nurses, no torture; nothing except clouds and sun and moon and stars, all welcoming, all very much missed.