Re: Log, Gotham: Holly R/Jim G
She thought of Gotham the way she thought of the ratty teddy-bear she'd had for five seconds when she'd been young enough for bears in the orphanage and no one had filched it yet. It was comforting, the streets nearly the same and digging under the concrete and oily-thick air, you found the same people. The mob ruled but the mob had ruled her Gotham too and Holly didn't care.
The man sifting through his groceries like he was missing something? That was a failure, a fuck-up and she was still weight over her toes and ready to fucking run because rich people didn't need things but they fought the same way the poor ones did over the things they had.
People didn't give shit out on Gotham streets and she looked at the stranger who didn't reach for her arm, like stopping her was will instead of force. I'll get you something and she thought of the bodega shelves jammed together and she thought of Selina's place but Selina's stuff? Was Selina's stuff and there was honor among thieves, even if it was twisted.
She gave him another of those glass-sharp smiles, blue-eyed bright. It wasn't crying in a loft over some boy who'd died because he believed the city was terrible and the good samaritan here? Basically proved it wasn't. "Oh yeah?" The cash had disappeared into an inner recess and she wasn't palming over bills, but she dug into one pocket then another and loaded his hands up, with a darting look for the guy with the paper bag rummaging through.
"You do good deeds every day?" and she thought Richie Rich in the overcoat with the bag and the bodega could stand to lose some groceries, but good samaritans were few and far between, "What are you, some kind of boy scout?" And she pushed off, without waiting for an answer, the next alley-way ahead, where the brickwork jutted beyond the trash-bins and it wasn't in the sightline of the man with the paper bag and missing groceries.