Rooms

[The hotel was quiet when he stepped through, empty and silent, but he supposed he preferred it that way. No one to bump into, no one that might ask questions that he couldn't/wouldn't answer. People around here seemed to have a hard time taking 'no' for an answer as of late, and he just didn't have the energy to deal with that.

He was dressed simply in a dark suit, hair slicked back, wings carefully concealed beneath the well-cut suit. He had no idea what Betty looked like when she wasn't at one of the parties, so he parked himself against a wall just down the hall from the Marvel door and he waited.]

[As Jonathan C]

That was one of the more sedate parties that I've attended.

The man who begged for his life: I'm calling.

[As Jonathan K]

At first, this place was rather novel. Exciting, even.

Now? I'm quite bored. And the daily struggle is getting quite old.

[Locked to Becky L]

Hello.

Who: Jonathan Crane & Becky Lyons
What: A meeting in a dream
Where: Dreamland
When: Recently
Warnings/Rating: TBD

( He wasn't the same as he once was. )

[Steve wanted to be in the room with her, because he thought he owed her that, the news he was breaking. But it was out of the question. He understood that. Her blood, the scientists said, was host to more toxins than a woman ought be able to walk around with, growing in organic urban sprawl throughout, burbling death under skin, bone, fascia, muscle in ugly, geographic strata.—Instead of face-to-face, they would meet separated by sealed glass, inches thick, the room containing him antiseptic in silver, the room containing her the same, but with a flood of heavy lights recessed in the ceiling above, creating the small explosion of stars in eyes that caught reflections.

It took time to prepare. He had to be decontaminated for the hundredth time in a week, and a small hazmat suit in stark white had been sized for him by the tight-lipped CDC doctors busy upstairs in the laboratories. He had to figure out how to put the thing on, then be checked for holes or tears. Only then was he allowed into the privacy of the interrogation room separated by glass.

Becky had been given time to recover. She'd been given bland, porridge gray scrubs. She was fed three times a day through a dispenser, as no one could come in contact with her.

Not wanting to keep her in the dark any longer as to why she was being held, Steve sat in a four-legged chair bent abstract, on the other side of that pane, the comms set up to project into her cell as he spoke from within the suit. He folded his hands in his lap, small shoulders stooped forward as he earnestly spoke.] Ma'am?

Who: Becky and Helena
What: Catching Mrs. Crane
Where: New York, Marvel
When: Current
Warnings/Rating: Forced drugging, but rather tame.

( The part of her that should have been horrified, that once would have been, was buried deep, deep under five years with the man she loved. )

[Locked to Bruce W.]

She's here now.

[Locked to Eddie N.]

Did Bruce update you?

[Locked to Becky L.]

Remember me?

[Locked to Seven]

How are you? How's Liam?

[ETA: Text to Steve R.]
[After this.]

Have you got a Jo Harvelle at the Tower?

Didn't intend for the seizures. Unexpected side-effect. I much prefer the one where it's quiet and calm and no one knows there's something wrong.

Nevertheless, it's interesting, isn't it?

[Phone call to Becky L]

Ring!

Doesn't time just fly when you have someone to spend it with? Five years would have felt like an eternity if I'd been alone.

Guess I'm just lucky. [A scribbled smiley face.]

Who: Jonathan Crane & Becky Lyons
What: A five year jump
Where: Gotham City
When: This week!
Warnings/Rating: Nothing to speak of.

( Something quite out of the ordinary happened. )

[Locked to Captain America]

[It's deleted repeatedly, but someone is going to ask eventually and she'd rather just have it done with.]

I'd rather chop off my fingers. I owe you an apology.

[Public]

I'm beginning to hate the sight of orange juice.

[Because why lie low?]

( helloooooo ) sweet freedom!!!!

[Locked to Joker]
puddin! you holdin up in there ok?

[Locked to Becky L]

[After this.]

If someone named Helena contacts you, please do not talk to her. She is the one who attacked me before. She is an unhinged young woman and I would not want her to harm you.

[Locked to Becky L]

Hi.

[Honestly, he hadn't been expecting her to visit. Of course he had hoped she would visit, that she wouldn't disappear into the world now that she was here, but he wasn't holding out much hope for it to actually happen. People said things all the time that they didn't mean, and he wouldn't hold it against her - for long.

So when they came to fetch him one afternoon with a comment that he had 'a visitor', Jonathan found himself pleasantly surprised. They were still treating him with kid gloves, healing injuries aside, and though he was accused of many, many things, his behaviour was not that of a criminal. He didn't fight, he didn't raise a fuss, and he was, in fact, one of the most well-behaved people who were being held there against their will.

You got more friends with honey than vinegar, Jonathan thought, and he would continue to behave that way until something gave him reason to behave otherwise.

He was sitting in the visiting room when they escorted her in, hands clasped together, wrists still bandaged from Helena's attack. There were fading bruises on his face, a row of stitches near his hairline, and though the plain clothing of the asylum was old and faded, he still looked like himself.

When she came in, he looked up, meeting her gaze, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. Nothing was said, though, until the door was closed and they were afforded some bit of privacy.]

I wasn't sure you'd come.

oh hell fucking no.

[locked to jonathan c.]

Please, please Jonathan?

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