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Terry McGinnis (futurebat) wrote in silverage,

1964. So his hunch was correct. He was somehow in the past. And probably not Gotham's past, judging by the street name and Queens. What did he know about 1964? Terry tried to remember something - anything - from history class, but his mind surfaced nothing. He had slept through too many lessons. And 1964 was so long ago. Figures that he'd actually need history, now.

At the offer of medical attention, Terry finally softened and regarded the woman without any suspicion for the first time. As Batman, he was used to being subject to tricks to try to gain his trust, but her offer seemed genuine, kind. He shook his head.

"I'm okay. Thanks," he said. True, he had fallen from fairly high up, but the suit had absorbed much of the impact. And his fight with Inque had left him bruised, but that was the norm and it was nothing that required first aid. Not that he would allow the woman to help if he were hurt, as he wouldn't want to risk his identity being discovered, but it was a kind offer nevertheless.

Terry couldn't remember much about 1964, but surely even back then it wasn't safe for people to just walk around so late at night. Or maybe it was. Terry couldn't be sure, with the gap in his brain that was his history knowledge, but he himself was accustomed to the night being filled with things that people would be better off avoiding. "Is it safe for you to be out so late at night?" he asked. With luck, she'd give him some insight on the climate or at least some inkling as to what he should expect as he tried to find a way back to Gotham.