Jim was out looking for trouble.
Otherwise known as patrol.
Otherwise known as damn, this was good coffee as he ambled through the park. He wasn't exactly at ease, considering how things had a way of happening around here, but he had a little bit more warning about things happening than most people would. So the relaxed pose was less of a
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Which . . . totally explained why he wasn't using them, currently. Yeah, so he still probably wasn't supposed to be trying to put weight on his left leg. He was tired of being injured, and thus maybe pushing his PT a liiiiiittle too much. . . .
He was focused enough on not wincing visibly as he gingerly made his way through the park, crutches tucked under his arm -- he might be stubborn, but he's not a complete idiot -- that he totally didn't notice Jim.
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And because he could be a bit of a dick sometimes, he purposefully made sure to loom out of nowhere.
"You supposed to be off those things?"
[[Sorry, totally didn't get the notif . . .]]
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Freakin' hip injury, freakin' Jim.
"Sonuva -- it's called physical therapy, dude. Don't tell me you ain't heard of it,"
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Yes. Floating. As if she was standing on nothing in the sky, her hands on her hips. She was trying to make sure she had a good read on the layout of the town, a light breeze blowing through her hair and cape. She put a hand over her eyes to block the sun, slowly peering around.
She didn't notice Jim. Not that she would have cared, anyway.
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". . . huh."
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