No, she hated uneven playing fields, and that was nothing new. It had nothing to do with this Gotham and its constant buzz of whine in her ears. It had nothing to do with all the things that were starting to parade themselves across her mind like a pantomime of not here and not this again. No, she always hated the uneven playing fields in Gotham. Enhanced plants, men that could freeze the world, Crows with their gases and Joe with his stuck-on face. It was all unbelievably unfair.
And, okay, so maybe she was feeling a little whiney too. Tired of being the good Cat. The peacemaker, the listener. And what did it get her in the end?
This.
Oh, and what was this? In addition to the occasional flash of is that real? Dilated pupils, dizziness, trembling. Oh, and the trouble breathing? That was fun.
And there was no Robert now. Alright, so maybe she'd become a little accustomed to him saving her tail. But the annoying thing - the really annoying thing, is that she knew this was a game. This wasn't going to kill her. If Ivy wanted her dead? She would already be dinner for some plant with a snapping maw. No, this was old Gotham. And everyone wanted old Gotham back? Well, the kitty cat didn't. But then, she was always the one hanging from a vine or tied to a gurney, wasn't she?
She didn't miss those days, not an iota. And she was cranky. So very cranky, and she would've just found a quiet place to go to ground, since that was what cats did. But she didn't want to die. Enough with the pathetic meowing. She wanted to live, and licking her wounds in the dark wouldn't net her anything at all. Mobs, diamonds, billionaires in cowls? All of it would be gone, and there went her death wish. Whoosh, and right out the window.
So, she managed to get to the cave on her own steam. She used the back way, the well and how Damian had taught her, past the old Pit, and she leaned heavily against the stone in the back of the cave. Jeans, a tied peacoat over grey. "Next year? Just make me come to Christmas."
Her color was high, and her breathing was labored. But, hey, she was smiling. It wasn't all sturm und drang.