Re: Log, Gotham: Holly R/Jim G
He could believe in men who handed out sandwiches but supposedly there was a librarian-type out there who was taking girls, one by one by one and kindness? Kindness normally meant someone wanted something: a freebie, or a favor or even to feel good about themselves this close to Christmas. She was fuzzy on Christmas: the rented place didn't stretch to lights and to trees but she liked the idea that somewhere a bunch of kids were getting theirs.
She watched, curiosity with her shoulder pressed up against brickwork and the spill of wheat-colored hair over grubby-dark cloth. He shook the guy's hand, he said something and it was neighborly, that whole boy-scout, give-the-man-his-things-back schtick. And maybe that was warm fuzzies for the man in the overcoat, but there was a little left over for the thief in the alleyway.
She dug her hands into her pockets and she curled her fingers into her palms, all bright grin. And if he wanted to buy her a meal, she wasn't going to say no: the only people who turned down charity? Could afford pride.
"I like pancakes," she said, because she did, and she thought maybe he'd seen the wallet if he'd seen the groceries but he didn't ask and she didn't volunteer. "I'm Holly." Maybe he was a preacher or a social worker or somebody who believed in things, but he didn't look like a librarian, so she figured the asshole disappearing girls? Wasn't him.