mad woman, bad woman; daryl (falcons) wrote in rooms,
This place was dark. It probably always was, and maybe it rained almost constantly, too. A taste of crime lingered in the air, and she saw at least one pickpocketing. Nobody stopped to help.
It was exactly like Zozo. Must be Gotham.
She couldn't decide if she stood out more or less in Gotham than she did in Zozo, but her short red jacket and red boots were definitely eye-catching. Her feet were steady if erratic in their steps--tipsy, but not able to control herself. And the way she dangled a dart openly between her fingers made people wonder if she wasn't quite right in the head, so they left her alone.
Daryl didn't mind. In her world, you always had to stay armed. There was nothing weird about it at all.
In her world, people also weren't shy about approaching strangers. They might not talk to you or tell you the truth--they might even fight you--but that didn't stop people from approaching. It was getting a little drizzly outside again, so Daryl stepped into the nearest establishment to dry off and stay warm for a while. She had no money for Gotham, didn't know another thing about the place than it was like Zozo, but she didn't seem undeterred.
She helped herself to a seat and, without an introduction, asked, "What's that?"
They didn't have laptops in her world. Her airship didn't have computerized chips, just gears and oil she had put together hself. This little thing that the other woman was staring at was strange, and so Daryl asked.
She was going to get thrown into Arkham at this rate.