Dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight

[peektuttut]

Who: Tim and OPEN
What: Tim's being a creep, creepering around the barge, you know.
When: Throughout the flood.
Where: All over!
Notes: Just like with the Olive log, instead of setting set times and places, it's your choice! Tim's going to be all over, so tag in where and whenever you want them to meet.

Comments

Sylar's Room

[peektuttut]

Tim pounded one fist on Gabriel's door in a quick, short rhythm. It was a specific knock, one he used to notify those he saw almost regularly that it was him outside waiting. And that he wouldn't wait for long. The cowl was still on and he faced the door, but his senses were all around him. Before, ahead, to the sides: it would take a considerable talent to sneak up on him.

[gray_atonement]

Sylar held out a hand from the opposite side of the room, enjoying what he knew to be a limited time in his old bedroom. He was presently flipping through a book, but paused at the knock and the door now opened with the mere gesture and will. The inmate raised an eyebrow at the bat man. Then his attention was on the book once more.

[tookmeyears]

Stepping inside, Tim closed the door behind him. "Put that down. We have work to do, and you aren't on vacation."

[gray_atonement]

Sylar rolled his eyes, but replaced the book on his shelf and then turned to face Tim. He lifted an eyebrow as he faced his warden, wondering what Tim could be calling on him to do. "This is a vacation. From the normal you."

Sunday, before the end of the flood

[terminates]

[He's ignored the dramatics and fanfare, leaving it to others to whine and protest about consequences of the flood. To him, it's just more drama -- something that will pass, as most Barge-related things do.

Except he's been getting restless. He's always been a man of action, and doing nothing for days on end sets him on edge.

It's why he's on the prowl, not necessarily looking for anything so much as testing the waters. He's done it before; this time, though, he doesn't bother with stealth. A sword, a blade, and a handgun -- the first visible, while the others are secreted away.

He doesn't expect trouble. Not really. Even so, it never hurts to be prepared.]

[tookmeyears]

[That's a motto Tim lives by, too. And when he sees Slade, armed, Tim pauses, eyes narrowing just a little.]

Wilson, [he said, eying the sword. Tim stilled.] Where did you get those?

[terminates]

[He eyes the other as well, his gaze sharpening when he sees the tell-tale glint of metal beneath that cape. A disgrace.

His lower lip curls with something not unlike disdain. He knows who this is.]

I could ask you the same.

[tookmeyears]

[Slade's disdain washes over him. Tim prefers to focus on things that actually matter.]

Put the weapons on the floor. [It's an order, there's no mistake about it, and there's a(n un)healthy helping of Bruce in his voice, but Batman is all his now. And he isn't uncomfortable with it.] Now.