Work is not something that Enfys does in Gotham - sure, she has a job, but it's not work. Work is something that stays the fuck out of that city, because anything human she might touch is already on Bruce's territory and it's not a place where the things that rise up under her fist congregate. Work is something that Enfys goes home for, sometimes other places, and usually by way of commuting through Xanadu, which is why she's picking at a café sandwich on the patio, Bruce on the other side of the table, and-
-and she's moving before she's even started thinking about moving, because it's Mabel and she's running from something and the instinct to fuck that something up kicks in without Enfys's conscious permission. Sandwich forgotten, tea spilled, and she's vaulting the low fence almost before her mind catches up to her.
That Enfys is an explosion of immediate action is no surprise; it's a strange feeling to know Okay, she's got that part handled and not have to think about it past that. Bruce doesn't go to Mabel, but rather looks to her wake. He knows if he tries to grab Mabel he'll just get a black eye for it, so: this.
How, exactly, he gets from the cafe table to in between the two women and the rest of where Mabel's coming from that quick is a mystery for the ages, but he does, back to them, and looks. There's only subtle changes between his casual stance and this, but there they're.
It's a matter of not colliding into anything that makes Mabel stop more than anything, a blur of familiar faces that she has to stare at for a moment, gulping for air, before she registers them correctly. Bruce, Enfys, cafe, battle axe. Right, she could work with that, as soon as she could breathe properly again. It felt like she had been running for miles, she truly had lost track. She would breathe better, possibly, if she didn't keep twisting around, eyes darting everywhere for something.
"Don't let him touch you," she wheezed pathetically. With a deep breath and her best 'this is fucking serious' tone given the circumstances, she said it again. "Don't let him touch you." She had to listen for the sounds of the dead, the shrieks of something that could never be. It wasn't a long wait
( ... )
"What," Enfys enunciates, holding that axe - long handle, made to fight long range or used as a staff in a pinch - like she knows exactly what she's doing with it, "the donkey-fucking Christ is that?"
She can see what it looks like, but stupid teenagers don't make her flesh crawl like this; girls like her might have once been designed to fight the vampire, but over time needs must, and just because it doesn't clench her gut like a bloodsucker doesn't mean she doesn't know what something fucking wrong feels like. Enfys puts herself between it and Mabel like it's second nature - maybe Mabel can handle herself, she doesn't know, but she's clearly still trying to catch her breath and a part of Enfys sincerely wants to split that thing in two from crotch to crown.
"You, back," without really pausing, poised with her axe to take this from stunned tableau to pitched battle in a matter of seconds if it so much as breathes wrong. Does it breathe? What the fuck is that. God, she hates coming in blind.
Comments 21
Work is not something that Enfys does in Gotham - sure, she has a job, but it's not work. Work is something that stays the fuck out of that city, because anything human she might touch is already on Bruce's territory and it's not a place where the things that rise up under her fist congregate. Work is something that Enfys goes home for, sometimes other places, and usually by way of commuting through Xanadu, which is why she's picking at a café sandwich on the patio, Bruce on the other side of the table, and-
-and she's moving before she's even started thinking about moving, because it's Mabel and she's running from something and the instinct to fuck that something up kicks in without Enfys's conscious permission. Sandwich forgotten, tea spilled, and she's vaulting the low fence almost before her mind catches up to her.
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That Enfys is an explosion of immediate action is no surprise; it's a strange feeling to know Okay, she's got that part handled and not have to think about it past that. Bruce doesn't go to Mabel, but rather looks to her wake. He knows if he tries to grab Mabel he'll just get a black eye for it, so: this.
How, exactly, he gets from the cafe table to in between the two women and the rest of where Mabel's coming from that quick is a mystery for the ages, but he does, back to them, and looks. There's only subtle changes between his casual stance and this, but there they're.
What is it?
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"Don't let him touch you," she wheezed pathetically. With a deep breath and her best 'this is fucking serious' tone given the circumstances, she said it again. "Don't let him touch you." She had to listen for the sounds of the dead, the shrieks of something that could never be. It wasn't a long wait ( ... )
Reply
"What," Enfys enunciates, holding that axe - long handle, made to fight long range or used as a staff in a pinch - like she knows exactly what she's doing with it, "the donkey-fucking Christ is that?"
She can see what it looks like, but stupid teenagers don't make her flesh crawl like this; girls like her might have once been designed to fight the vampire, but over time needs must, and just because it doesn't clench her gut like a bloodsucker doesn't mean she doesn't know what something fucking wrong feels like. Enfys puts herself between it and Mabel like it's second nature - maybe Mabel can handle herself, she doesn't know, but she's clearly still trying to catch her breath and a part of Enfys sincerely wants to split that thing in two from crotch to crown.
"You, back," without really pausing, poised with her axe to take this from stunned tableau to pitched battle in a matter of seconds if it so much as breathes wrong. Does it breathe? What the fuck is that. God, she hates coming in blind.
Reply
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