https://t.co/0qZZeVuvA1

Going through her bolts, she finds herself getting a little bored. Cue her pulling her cell from her pocket. 📲 [ @GUILTRlDDEN ] 💬 is it as cold where you are as it is in Gotham?

It’s cold out, she can see her breath; but she’s kept warm by her puffer jacket. She prefers it outside; she likes being able to hear what’s going on. Her hands move around the metal, wiping away the night before.

Cleaning her crossbow on the fire escape steps.

There’s a crossbow bolt lodged in the wall outside beside @GUILTRlDDEN’s window, a note tied around it. When he finds it and opens it, it reads; ‘Heard it was a special day. Drinks on me later. Hel x’

Tired.

— succumb, but she’s losing blood quickly and even she can’t fight against biology. Her hand placing pressure on herself slips, her head dropping to her shoulder; she’s in hands now.

The hum, the darkness, the relative warmth in here compared to down there— it’s a whole different world in here. Her lids feel heavier and heavier, her lightheadedness overwhelming her until she goes silent beside him. She’s well aware she shouldn’t be allowing herself to—

— asks, as though it might lighten the mood a little, but all she ends up doing is wincing. She leans her head back, her eyes closing behind her domino — it was getting harder to stay awake, no matter how hard she was fighting it.

He helps her into the cockpit, her body screaming at her to stop moving, but they have little choice. She’s able to get settled in enough, but the white fabric he’d given her from his costume was quickly changing colour as she presses it to herself. “You have a plane..?” She —

— softly; he’s having to help her move, objectively making things more difficult for him. She won’t be responsible for him having to fend off the GCPD.

Glancing up at him, Helena eventually nods; her crossbow still trained on the guy as Marc helps her to her feet. She’s starting to feel lightheaded now, sweat on her brow, but she can just about get to her feet. “… I’m only slowing you down. You should go.” Helena says —

Sunday night; she’s slipping into the back of the Church, the pew closest to the door as the Father reads an evening sermon. There aren’t many people here.

https://t.co/vKcWEAO3dC

She’s taking in the last of the light on her rooftop.

He’s a little biased, though.

Thank you.

She’s not scary.

Too many drinks deep. Someone called her scary.

Wind is biting. Cheeks are red.

Freezing cold hands.