Gabe Novak is "Joe King" (likegravity) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-08-17 22:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | harley quinn, joker |
Who: Emily and "Joseph"
What: Neighbors meeting
Where: Bathos, Sixth Floor
When: This evening
Warnings: ...I actually don't see any. Swears?
Bathos didn't surprise him. Not the people inside, nor the forums and the thoughts given. People were the same whether they hailed from this world or the next. There were physical differences of course - powers and weaknesses that changed their make-up - but all in all, people reacted as he expected. Topics of discussion were taken personally. Everyone was too emotionally involved - good for him, bad for them. He'd made note of it, adding it to a mental file of notes on human nature. It would be useful at some point and while he had free time, why not sit and observe?
It wasn't so easy though, even camoflauged with bare skin. Bathos was a busy building, people coming and going to work and not. He did a better job of watching via a video camera, several miles away then seated at a bench down the street. In this warm weather, no high coat could come over his scars. He couldn't help but draw attention to them either, habit worn in at rubbing at them. People were always drawn to movement and their eyes would follow his hand to the glimpse of scars, pausing in their path. He couldn't blame them - he wasn't one to blame. Human nature dictated the action, putting them in an unusual momen to observe, which wasn't his intention in the slightest. He'd wanted to see if there were any differences between the Musings people as they were cloistered away in these buildings - he'd seen enough in the Rainier Valley to know the differences there. Why was it that they felt so different that they had to be sequestered away?
Perhaps it was one of his few good qualities - something that brought a wry grin to his face as he made the walk back to Bathos. He didn't see any reason to find himself any better than the regular humans versus the Creations. They were the same; the fact that he was above, meant they were at the same below.
He took the stairs up, jogging to get up the six flights as quickly as possible. No one had paid much mind to Mr. King so far and he intended to keep it that way. He wasn't sneaking in and out - he was simply a busy man with other places to be and other things to do. What he was doing wasn't anyone's business anyhow; not unless they wanted to end up dead. It was easier to arrange that yourself or ask after all. People tended to be moronic about things like that.
A sound at the top of the stairs did slow his steps and the barest of frowns crossed his face. With the scars, it wasn't as noticable but he wasn't too pleased. Carefully he adjusted his shirt and pants - appearances did matter - before stepping up onto the sixth floor, wary of whoever would be there.