Re: Log, Gotham: Holly R/Jim G
Jim watched the light sludge in the syrup pronged at the end of that frozen fork before looking up at Holly. The coffee heated steam-wet against his cheek, and he pushed the mug back on the bar, enough space to let him cross his arms against filigree'd chrome. He didn't know what it all meant, the differences, whether people had expectations for him from their 'stories,' or even if he cared about what his future was supposed to have been someplace else. It was all unknown, uncharted waters in sullied, murky gray, and he only had so much air in his lungs to go dive in and explore—and right now, he felt pretty breathless.