narrative: micah callaghan Who: Micah What: Acquiring some protection Where: Gotham City When: Recently! Warnings/Rating: Eh, nothing really.
It was several days after his run-in with Louis that Micah came to any sort of decision as to how to proceed. Every move he made was seen as some sort of threat, which he did understand, but it was starting to make the simple act of breathing a bit on the difficult side. They were getting more brash, it seemed, and he wasn't ready to die just yet. So something needed to change.
It took a visit to Gotham City, a place where he was quite positive he could obtain anything he desired without too many questions asked. He had a wad of cash from selling a few things, a watch, an instrument, and he just hoped it was enough to get what he needed.
And what he needed was protection.
It didn't take long to find a seller, someone who didn't ask questions, just took the cash and gave him the gun. It was black, heavier than he would have imagined, and it was an awkward shift to put it in his pocket, to tug his jacket over to conceal. There were no thank-yous when the transaction was done, nothing like buying something in a store, but he didn't come here for the customer service. He came here to get what he needed and then to get right back out.
The apartment in Gatsby might have been where he was supposed to live, but the place in Something Wicked was the place where he lived. People didn't ask too many questions there, and he knew some folks, knew the faces and who was friendly and who wasn't. But coming back, he thought they'd all notice something was different, that there was something different about him. But no one said a word, just nods and waves as he made his way to the run-down trailer he had commandeered as his own.
The gun was shoved in a cabinet, underneath a pair of trousers, but even after he closed the door, he could see it sitting there. He wouldn't be leaving home without it, that was for sure. But that didn't mean he liked it.