logsinthenight | a chance encounter || closed

Entry tags:

a chance encounter || closed

characters: Jason Todd (

mind_blown) and Peter Parker (

webshoots)
location: Village, moving towards ice cream
date/time: August 10, daytime.
content: It's just a chance encounter log, following up their last discussion-- except I guess, this time Peter isn't meeting Jason as Spidey!
warnings: None, will edit if that changes.

[there really wasn't a lot going on. part of him wanted to go out on his own, leave the rest of the group behind. but even he knew that that would be practical suicide, given how little they knew about the rest of the area. and he was too stubborn to ask dick for help, no matter how many times he offered it.

guess he was still bitter over the graves.

but also, there was only so much "being personable" he could stand in a search for information, especially after he'd worked through who was useful, and who was a dick despite being useful... and who wasn't. he didn't need a drink, but man, he sure would like a smoke to think it out. or a goddamned burger and fries.

and he didn't have time to learn how to use oil to make them himself.

At any rate, after a successful day of foraging it's time to finally hit up the mystery flavors of ice cream. that he'd said he'd do forever ago. when he jumps down from his perch, he glances at the one person he'd seen near-by.]

'Scuse me.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[hm, the voice sounds... familiar. He's pretty certain he's chatted with this guy at some point.

and there's probably a reason he doesn't quite recall when. but he sets that aside, after all. he was pretty good with names and faces (not the smartest of robins, but he had his points of capability compared to the others). he's sure it'd hit him later. But he notices that this guy seemed to be working on something. Something tech-y.

And he couldn't help but be interested, even though he was trying his best to slip out unnoticed to try, well. the 21 flavors of varying quality. Or something like that.]

Probably because I wasn't trying to be noticed.

[said with a shrug.

at least he's not bothering with his mask this time, though his hood was definitely over his head. it didn't make sense to default to the mask right now.]

[ when jason responds, peter's pretty sure he recognises the voice — but then, in a town of sixty-odd, it'd be pretty tough not to have a vague familiarity with most of the voices of most of the individuals present. the hood, though—

peter's attention shifts curiously from jason towards his lantern — not long enough or probing enough to really catch sight of the design — and back again. was it—? (maybe, though peter hadn't managed to get a good view of the kid's face then, and isn't really able to get a good view of whoever this is, not yet, not without being wildly obvious with his lantern.) still, no spider-sense tingling, no apparent immediate threats to his person, so that's a positive.

(but then, he's not entirely sure how reliable his spider-sense is here, and he's not sure how much he really wants to think about that.) ]

—Sure, [ he answers, the quirk of his lips somewhere between incredulous and amused. ] What changed?

Decided I wanted to get food. No one needs to sneak around to get food.

[plus he's tired.

but he ignores most of the look Peter's given. He's settled for tying his lantern to his belt-- it's the best thing he can figure out to do until he doesn't have to carry the damn thing around anymore. but it sure does add to the shadow factor from the hood. but, hey. it could be worse.]

Unless I should've stuck with the sneaking, because walking's overrated.

Is it? Some of us don't have any other options.

[ what. a. lie.

(or: it's true, just not for peter.)

pause. wait— ] —What were you sneaking around for? [ peter doesn't entirely expect an answer — or at the very least, he doesn't expect an entirely truthful answer. jason's right, at least, that food doesn't require sneaking, unless you're in company and determined not to share. there's another question there though: had he been following someone? (who? why?); or was he just mildly paranoid (which, peter couldn't really blame him, but again: town of sixty-odd.) ]

And I feel for you, I really do.

[ he still thinks Peter sounds familiar, but. He can't place it, maybe it'll come to him later. to the next question, he waves it off airily, and then hooks a thumb in his pocket, relaxed. not threatened. it's natural to wonder something like that. just like it was natural for Jason to not trust anyone as far as he could throw them. ]

What does it matter? I didn't want to be bothered, or I wanted a moment alone.

[ a lot of moments alone, actually. ]

It isn't really any of your business.

—Right. [ fine, fine — it's a fair point: it's not really any of peter's business, although the twinge of curiosity can't entirely be helped. the response is filed away for later reference (doesn't like company— though, really, peter's a fine one to talk as far as a tendency towards being alone goes). he does at least have the good grace to look momentarily sheepish before holding a hand up in lieu of an apology, and: ] It's a creepy town, I was just wondering if there was anything I should be worried about... [ another pause and the sheepish expression lingers for just a moment more, then dissipates and— ] You're one of the new arrivals, right? I'm Peter. [ not one of the new(est) arrivals, is the unsaid remark there. ]

You’re not new, you probably know better than me what there is to be worried about. [ actually, maybe he should hold that thought. Most civilians had no clue how much there could be to worry about in any given situation.

But... there were plenty of roof crawlers who looked like perfectly approachable people. They could elaborate, if necessary. And maybe he just had too much faith in people’s willingness to protect the weak here.

And also, this was a great way to subtly answer his question. ]

Can’t a guy roof crawl in peace around here? And here I thought this was supposed to be a quiet, peaceful getaway.

Okay. [ his eyebrows knit together in a brief frown as he notes that jason doesn't bother to introduce himself in turn; it's punctuated by a brief quirk of his lips, and: ] When you say here, do you mean here-here, or do you mean here? Because I hate to break it to you, I don't think any of this is designed to be a quiet, peaceful getaway. You stuck around for the welcome speech, right?

[ there's a moment where peter glances away from jason, towards the closest building: maybe once it'd been nice — there's enough to speak of a small community, the only question is what happened to that community. they'll find out, he guesses — or he hopes. beacon is creepy enough, but grand (villainous) plans he can cope with; it's the underlying mystery of why the entire place is unnervingly devoid of anyone that's apparently not dead and whilst not entirely pleasant or — clean, it's lacking in the signs of disuse and abandonment that peter had entirely expected. (but then: the resets.)

—but right. threats— ]

—And sure, you'd think that, but current threats are hovering somewhere around the 'deeply traumatising' with way more than your RDA of 'psychologically horrible'; and the smallest dash of river-based Lake Placid for effect. [ beat. ] This is my first time here. [ lie number two; he gestures loosely with both hands at their surroundings. ] The only thing I know we've got to be worried about is whether or not some guy prone to crawling roofs is going to drop down and give me a heart attack.

Edited 2019-08-14 15:32 (UTC)

[fiiiiine. He sighs and offers a mildly sheepish shrug— though the expression doesn’t exactly match. He didn’t hang out with normal people all that much, but he had to imagine Isabella would be giving him an earful.]

Right. Anyway, where are my manners? I’m Jason. Most of everything I said was a bit of gallows humor. I’m new and still exploring this place.

[and he’s tired. That’s fine.]

[ oh, so this guy is—

(red hood. that'd been what he'd called himself, right?)

—that makes sense. (peter had checked the directory on the tablet not long after arriving, continued to check it periodically — there was only jason, from what peter could see, so: huh.) after the flicker of surprise fades from peter's expression, he holds a hand out— ] Jason, right. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but given the circumstances... [ he trails off with a shrug, though it's accompanied by a flash of a smile that manages to sit somewhere between amused and apologetic. ] You managed to find much? Via your, uh, roof crawling? The village seems to have more going on than the square around the Bonfire, but that's only by a comparative definition of things going on.

The square has the fire, who knows if it actually has the most going on. It’s kind of hard to tel without being able to see? But I did find a hobo in a treehouse.

[he will never stop giving Dick a hard time about that. And how he referred to him, well... no harm in ribbing his brother, right? He offers the barest hint of a smile, at that.]

But honestly, I’m still getting an opinion on this place.

—A hobo in a treehouse? [ the note of surprise is entirely genuine — peter was aware that some of them had made use of unconventional lodgings, but he hadn't entirely expected someone to go ahead and either claim (or build? did they build it?) an entire treehouse. ] They know there's an inn, right? And— [ he waves a hand over a shoulder: the village has plenty of buildings compared to the current population. if someone wanted privacy and a place to stay, they didn't need to do it in a tree.

still. a quirk of a smile. ] I've been here a month and I'm still trying to form an opinion on this place that isn't just 'unsettling'.

They do. It's a choice. A choice they built a lot sturdier than I expected, but still a choice. You might not know Dick Grayson, but this was probably one of his more bird-brained ideas. I won't say where it is out of respect of what he was trying to do, but I let him know what I thought of it. [the way he talks about him is very familiar, very open.

very much like family ribbing on family. but he stretches lightly, thinking back to what he hopped down to do-- and also casually glancing at what it was that Peter was carrying. trying to get a sense of what type of person this guy he felt very certain he's talked to before was like. Maybe it'd hit him eventually, like a sack of bricks.

wouldn't be the first time.]

Anyway, I'm thinking of trying the ice cream. Were you headed in the same direction?

Huh, [ soft and almost contemplative — he'd met dick o...nce, he wants to say, and he hadn't struck him as the 'hobo in a tree' type, but evidently it took all sorts. peter doesn't miss the familiar tone jason adopts and peter thinks, momentarily, of that first conversation he and jason had had, where jason had mentioned knowing about — expecting — divergent and alternate dimensions, and he wonders—

—but doesn't ask. there's a curious glance instead, one that quickly follows jason's attention to the items in his hands: there's nothing immediately discernible, just a handful of — plastic? (maybe). his lips twitch briefly and he acknowledges the glance with a vague shrug. ] —Apparently the mailman missed the 'fragile' aspect of the package.

[ but moving swiftly on, because ice cream. he hadn't been, but ice cream is always a great shout, so— ] You're a man with priorities. [ beat. ] You know where it is?

[it definitely took all sorts. especially in their family. though, he knows he's being a little too obvious, when Peter answers one of the questions he hadn't quite gotten to asking. And so, he rolls a shoulder, letting that question drop.

he'll figure it out later.

maybe. He'd need a better look at things, without completely giving himself away in the meantime.]

Nah. It's close to here, though. Am I hot or cold on that?

[he's slowly warming up to him.]

I feel like that's a trick question.

[ like, jason, dude, it's cold because it's ice cream, but it's also hot because that's the way that saying works, which means that he doesn't answer the question beyond that. instead, he glances right, then left, then— ] That way? [ somewhere between an answer and a question. based on the first time he'd been here and tried the ice cream, peter's pretty sure it's that way, but it's dark and peter does not have night vision, so whilst it looks about right, peter's prepared to be slightly wrong. ] I've heard it's got some pretty interesting flavours.

... Oh.

No, I'm not that good at word play. [he's the dumb robin.

he can own it for things like banter and any sort of pun that doesn't have anything to do with bats or birds, but you know. that's totally fair, and maybe the cheesiest of cheese lines like they have in the movies.]

So it was legit. Anyway, I'm gonna try all the flavors.

[he basically already promised he would.]

[ that earns a laugh and peter adds: ] Then hot.

[ he falls briefly silent as he bends down and shoves whatever it was he'd had in his hands in a rucksack — is it the same one that spider-man's occasionally seen with? you betcha. in a town as currently small as beacon, there are less places for peter to lose and/or forget about his rucksack(s) which, as far as these things go, is a pretty mixed blessing. (occasionally, his rucksack will be made out of webfluid, but that dissolves after an hour and your man's gotta conserve the webfluid.) ]

—All the flavours? [ sceptically, as he stands back up, hoisting his rucksack back over a shoulder and picking up his lantern with his free hand. ] You know there's thirty-one, right? Featuring such delicacies as— [ what had there been—? ] sriracha.

I know there are some questionable ones, but sounds like a challenge. So, why not? [said easily as he glances back at him. Realistically, he’s just following Peter. He knows there’s ice cream somewhere around there— and maybe he should have found it out himself. It’s weird to be tagging along with someone he barely knows, isn’t it?

None of this really shows for the moment. But he’s thinking about it as they walk.]

It’s the closest we’ve got to a fast food joint around here.

[ there's a moment where peter pauses, considering. he doesn't generally think of food as a challenge — peter's thought process tends to sit somewhere along the lines of 'does it (still) seem edible? great, let's give it a shot' — but it's a fair point. ] I mean, sure. [ side glance. ] We're dead, so what's the worst that can happen? [ rhetorically speaking, although almost immediately after saying that, peter hopes that he hasn't just managed to jinx the matter.

although when jason mentions it's the closest to a fast food joint they've got here, peter can't quite find it in himself to disagree. it is, but what he wouldn't give for a vendor that served something hot. ] We're looking for the stand with ice cream cones stacked on top, by the way. Just in case we weren't sure what we were looking for.

Are we dead? [asked with an exceptionally airy, and tired tone. It could almost be taken for sarcasm, and in fact, he adds onto it to make it seem as though it is.] Because I feel like I am living it up right now.

[he gets the opinion that his view is definitely... mixed. And after the graves, realistically he would never like to talk about death again. With anyone.

Much less this very earnest, very sarcastic guy that sounded like he was from New York.

Probably.]

[ living it up. there’s a sharp exhale of breath that’s definitely an ill-disguised laugh, because god, that was terrible. ]

That’s the going theory, [ peter replies dismissively. when he’d first arrived, he’d been married to the idea that they weren’t dead; he’d cycled through a list of potential suspects (the usual, followed by the less-likely), before accepting that this probably wasn’t thanks to anyone he had familiarity with — or, if it was, it was of a larger scope than ‘friendly neighborhood’ tended to signify.

after the fiasco with the graves? peter’s not so sure. there’s still a large part of him that leans towards death being an (the?) easy answer for something that seems a little more complex — alternate dimensions, time travel, divergent timelines—

pulling that off would take a lot of work and frankly, ‘complex’ doesn’t begin to cover it. ]

The only thing I know, Toto— [ ‘know’ enunciated carefully, with emphasis ], is that we’re not in Kansas anymore. [ pause. sly glance. ] But then, compared to Kansas...

[hey. The pop culture references definitely remind him of someone very specific. He pauses with a light “hah”, punctuating his response to Peter. He’d have to test some more before he could be sure.

But the voice and the pop culture? That ruled out the only other. Ew Yorker he’d met so far.]

You’ve been to Kansas?

[ nngh— ] No, but I saw The Wizard of Oz as a kid and if it taught me anything, it's: don't go to Kansas. [ it's uttered with a touch of self-awareness tinged with sheepishness, because look, it was an off-hand comment, don't take him too seriously, okay? he's travelled a few places, mostly thanks to parker industries, but at the end of the day, new york is where his heart's at. nevertheless — and moving on — peter slows down: the ice cream vendor was around here, he's sure of it— ] Have you?

[it hits him-- though not quite like a sack of bricks. he doesn't show that he's realized anything, instead focusing on answering Peter's question. But realistically? if someone asked him to put money on who he thought Spiderman was?

He'd throw it all on Peter.]

More on the way through to Texas. Honestly, though, compared to where I'm from? Kansas is nice. People could lead a decent, honest life there.

[because fuck Gotham]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject