ₓ₂₃ on RolePlayer.me - www.roleplayer.me/1786723 ₓ₂₃

21 years old

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June 27 2022

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     ₓ₂₃'s Details
Characters: Laura Kinney, Laura Howlett, X23
Playbys: Odeya Rush, Dafne Keen
Length: Multi Para, Novella
Member Since:May 25, 2022

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Casey Jones

8 hours ago

Casey Jones was here.
𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮

Jun 25th 2022 - 12:12 AM

Who Was Your Father? 

In all honesty, what she said took him by surprise. Why on earth wouldn’t she want to run away from someone apparently behaving like a madman? Somethings was taking place behind her eyes. It looked like he did when he was reliving memories. What was she seeing within her mind? Through his own mental fogginess, he brought up the urge to process thoughts more clearly. It was easy to get lost within your own anguish, but Laura mattered a great deal to him. She was in a way, his responsibility even though there was no blood relation between them. Nor a formal document of adoption.

Their relationship wasn’t a traditional father-daughter connection, but he didn’t ponder it too deeply. If people were in askance of his choices, he didn’t need to explain. Other than she had saved his life and she was significantly important to him. Not just for her actions, but because she had crept into his very guarded heart.

When the hiccup sob erupted from her, his heart felt even more shattered than the mirror he had fractured. Guilt stricken, his optics drifted away from her and looked down again. God, she could shred him if she wanted to. Why was he telling her to leave? Even if he shot her, she wouldn’t die. But all the same, the notion of shooting her at all was a hard one to bear. Violence wasn’t his normal. Fighting with words, and crafting them into weapons in the courtroom was his form of violence. It would seem…asking her to run and not look back, was a cut he didn’t mean for it to be taken so scathingly.

Calmly, he reached and took her hands into his. Gentle pressure. “Laura. I’ve never asked you this because you have never brought it up. But, who was your father?”

If she didn’t want to talk about it, he would understand. Truth be told, he despised bringing up his own dad. The abuse he had endured was buried deep inside, secured in a chest he never wanted to open. Within it, the pain and anger were so raw. Although he had done grief therapy after his wife died, he refused to be open about what had happened with his father. So much could be caged within. They were alike in that regard, they held their emotions captive in the cruelest way. Why was she the way she was? And why had it taken him so long to ask these questions?

Being a busy working man kept him preoccupied. However, he didn’t want to neglect the one person in his life that hadn’t taken off when his crazy side surfaced. And he wanted to get to know her better.

The historical red brick building held the coolness of the night. It had been built during the early 1800s, beautifully preserved. A fireplace in the bedroom and the study, though no longer in use with wood, an electric version replaced it. Winters were cold here, one might not expect it during the summer’s heat. It had been sold to him for millions so he could delightfully call it his own. The historical aesthetic fit him well, both classy, and sophisticated, the Bullfinch Architectural style was similar to the nation’s capital. It had been the bay window that won him over. He suspected she wasn’t used to being in such a rich, glamorous building. Not that he was judging, but she didn’t have the look of someone who came from a wealthy background. Nor the personality.

Secretly, he wasn’t either. Only when people delved into his past did they learn the posh, smooth-speaking lawyer came from a poor family. He had certainly made something of himself, built up a personal empire. One might think he would be happy. To an extent, he was. Being successful always offered a sense of pride and accomplishment, but the one person he wanted…wasn’t there. Loss had taught him something. That none of it really mattered. The expensive furniture, house, or any of those possessions. He would gladly give it all up if it would bring Grace back. They could sleep in the entryways of the city’s heart, homeless. And he would be positively blissful, holding her in his arms.

Maybe he was a little strange for thinking that way. Five years passed, and it was as if he lost her yesterday. What was a heart that couldn’t move on? Haunted. Most people would have moved on by now and he knew it. His friends wanted him to try dating. It wasn’t that simple. Every time he tried, it didn’t go well…and they disappeared. A few had ended up dead. All he could do was love her ghost. That was alright, he supposed. 

𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮

Jun 24th 2022 - 9:59 PM

He knew she told him not to look. Truthfully, he should have obeyed. It was just…he had a hard time agreeing with allowing a young lady, so small and scrawny, to approach an SUV of thugs. Even worse, he couldn’t get the expression on her face out of his mind, the look she wore before departing from the vehicle filled him with guilt. What were he qualifcations? He didn't even know that much. However, he had to watch. Had to know she was safe…and whether he needed to use his pistol or not.

At first, he felt disbelief. “What…the…Hell?” Already narrow oceanic eyes squinted, as she…He was blinking in shock. But only for a moment. They were distracted, allowing him to snatch his briefcase and pull out the pistol hidden within it. First, he checked to make sure it was loaded.

The back window of his car shattered as a stray bullet hit it, but missed him. Harvey ducked down, heart racing a mile a minute. As if the seriousness of the situation hadn't been known, it was amplified the moment bullets when flying. One made a hole in the structure of his vehicle. Embedded. He heard someone talking. “Oh, Harvey. Let me take over. I’ll get your idiot ass out of this situation.”

What? He glanced around but no one was there. He swore he heard the words spoken inside the cabin of the sport’s car. There was more gunfire, and he dared to sneak up and look because he needed to know she was alright. Fingers unlocked the safety catch. His palms were sweaty but he wasn’t about to drop it. The weapon feld foreign in his grip. 

Had he fired it before? It had belonged to his dad, he had inherited it. An older antique model that was in perfect condition and still quite lethal. However, he never had much reason to use it. Living in a high security upscale neighborhood meant there was very little violence or crime. Normally, it was stored in a gun safe in the wall of his study at home. Harvey wasn’t the type of man that went to the shooting range to unload frustration, nor did he do target practice. But did he know how to use it? Well, sort of. Well enough. Batman had advised him to carry one and this was probably the reason why he had been given that advice. Up until now, there hadn’t been any attempts of kidnapping or assassinations. They weren’t kidding when they said being district attorney in Gotham might cost him. His life.

Laura looked bloodied and it worried him. So much so, that his finger unlocked the door and his hand gripped the handle. Ready to burst out to save her. They might be after him, but he wasn’t going to allow a girl to die on his behalf like a coward. Just as he was about to push the door open, the dust was clearing…she was walking away. Covered in crimson. Shattered and momentarily afraid - those were bullet holes in her clothing - the car door was pushed open so he could swing his long legs out though he remained sitting inside. 

He pointed the gun at her purely out of fear. What the hell was she?! With a shakey hand he stared at her...and after a moment, he sighed and lowered it. Shoulders slumping. Laura had just saved his life. Even if she wasn’t quite human, he couldn’t hold that against her. Suddenly, there was a long drawn out silence while he tried to pull together the parts of his mind that had flown in a million directions. Whereas he had been pumped on the fight or flight response, it slowly was simmering down.

A hand pulled down his face, and he rested his elbow into the curve of the steering wheel, while he rubbed fingers into tousled black hair. He was a mess too. But not harmed, just shaken. The bullet had amazingly missed him. Mentally, he knew he needed to call 911. No matter who these goons were, they deserved medical attention before they got locked away for their attempt at kidnapping. Assuming that was the intention, who knew really? Hopefully, they might find a good lawyer in town that wasn’t him. Too bad he was pretty much the best.

“Are…Are you hurt? I-” He was staring at her clothing again, trying to keep down the feelings of horror at all the blood. Though she walked, talked, and acted perfectly fine. “What are you?” That was the main question at this point. This was the first time he had ever met anyone nonhuman. Or, perhaps, superhuman was the more correct term. Moving his hand slowly so as not to push her to react, he put the safety lock mechanism back on his gun. As far as introductions went, this was one of the strangest that he has had.

“I want to thank you for saving my life. I’m just curious. Why did you want to?” God knows he wasn’t a perfect man. There were things about him that she didn’t know, that no one knew. To a degree, he didn’t even know. But on some level, he did, he got it. And while he tried to be the white steed, he knew he was a dark horse. 

Jun 19th 2022 - 10:57 AM

Lenore Devereaux "Cryo❄️child"

A new day had arrived at the X-Men mansion. There was a lot of movement but not of those who had to go out on a dangerous mission, on the contrary, everything was very calm and the mutant children were very happy because today was Sunday, the day where they ate all kinds of desserts and sweets. For Lenore, that was her favorite day, because she could eat all the cookies she wanted. Jean Grey approaches Xavier:

"Charles, the kids are ready for candy day, but I think we have a little mission and I already sent Cyclops and Storm."

Xavier observes through the window of his office all the children playing and excited for what was coming soon, however, there was a girl who was special, she was a very powerful mutant and at the same time, she was very misunderstood by others, because her character was aggressive and she would swear when something bothered her. There was another mutant with those qualities in the X-Men, her name was Laura. 

"I think, we should carry out the candy day but, I think I have a special mission for Laura, I want her to improve her character, I want her to start to understand her mutant comrades."

Jean Grey was confused, what Xavier meant by that. Everything was very clear to Xavier, Laura was a mini Logan, she was aggressive but at the same time, she had a big heart. That's why Xavier was going to assign her a very special task: to take care of Lenore for a day, to see how well she would do with the children and especially with Lenore, who was very similar to Laura. 

"Laura, I want you to take little Lenore to town and have a really fun day, you will make candy day for her. Keep in mind, this is a very special mission Laura and if you pass, you will be rewarded in a very good way." 

Xavier said with a happy look on his face and very confident that Laura would do a great job. After everything was ready for the big day, Lenore was waiting for Laura at the entrance. She was a little scared because she had heard that Laura was quite an aggressive mutant. It was then that Lenore saw Laura walking towards her.

"Have fun, and remember, don't use your powers in public."

Jean Grey said with a smile. Lenore and Laura took the bus to the city and during the ride, they didn't speak to each other. Laura because she was a little annoyed for babysitting and Lenore because she was a little intimidated by the mutant.  When they got off the bus, they arrived at a small park. Lenore wanted to take Laura's hand but she pulled it away very quickly. At that moment, Lenore realized that Laura was not comfortable with her, which made the little girl sigh with sadness.  The two mutants walked for a long time until they reached another park, as there was no playground in the previous one. Lenore didn't like parks very much but she was afraid to tell Laura that and that the mutant would hate her even more for it. 

After a few minutes, they both arrived at the park. Laura tells Lenore in a very annoyed way to go for a run or whatever the kids do. Lenore plucks up her courage and tells her 

"You don't have to be so aggressive to say things, I'll do what I want and if you don't enjoy my company, why did you come?"

Said the little mutant as she headed towards a large tree nearby. Once there, Lenore sat down and took out of her backpack a PSP to play video games, that was her passion. She also had a box of cookies and some juice. After a few minutes, Lenore put her PSP on the grass to take a break. That's when she realized that Laura couldn't take it anymore, she wasn't comfortable in that place. Lenore took her PSP and her box of cookies and put them back in her backpack. While she was doing that, she was walking towards Laura 

"We can leave if you want, I can see you're not comfortable and truthfully, neither am I, I don't like parks."

Lenore said, trying to empathize with Laura, as they were both very much alike and she wanted them to be friends. Lenore knew that, deep down, Laura was a good person and all the little girl had to do was try to gain her trust and she would do that, no matter what. 

𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮

Jun 17th 2022 - 7:24 PM


The moment she ended the call to 911 before it could even be answered, he nearly lost it. Mentally, he wasn’t thinking clearly. Of course, there were officers at the station who didn’t agree with Jim or him, that wouldn’t mind handing his ass over to assassins. Or who knew what. The fact that his life was actually in danger was rattling. He nearly snapped at her, but Laura’s assurance that she was going to get him evidence and more swayed him a bit. Because ultimately, he needed everything he could get his hands on to build a case, especially against the Mayor.

Was it reassuring that she was at least twenty-one years old? Sort of. Was she telling the truth? There were moments in time, moments when you had to take a leap of faith and trust the best outcome would unfold. Chance. It was tricky, it was ambiguous, elusive. When it came down to this very moment, he could trust her and potentially live. Or potentially die. Could he die either way? Probably. Maybe it was one of the infamous catch-22 moments, or was there a glimmer of hope? Harvey knew he was going to have to take a chance with this young woman.

“Alright.” He didn’t know she was a mutant. There wasn’t even the remote inclination of suspicion for her to be anything besides human. Also, he hadn’t told her why anyone would be after him too. Besides being a public official sworn into office, it made you a target in Gotham. But he was also engaging in a lot of investigations, spying, interviews, and detective work in secrecy. If people knew - which they might he realized - his life would be in danger on a daily basis. That was the risk he had taken.

After crossing a long bridge, they were on the outer fringes of Gotham, the majestic city full of skyscrapers and towers poetically and disarmingly peaceful against a backdrop of delicate evening colors. Tender pinks and baby blues, soft hazy clouds that gave the impression that the world was in harmony. If only.

There was an abandoned mill in this neck of the outskirts, established during the late stages of the Industrial Revolution, now appearing as broken tooth smiles with an array of shattered and boarded windows. Graffiti and trash were scattered across the premises. Do Not Enter signs and official city warnings about structural damage making the buildings unsafe. They were a part of history that no one paid attention to any longer. He was driving down a long road toward the back, SUVs in tow.

His sea-hued eyes glanced over at her and for a moment, his heart softened. That someone saw so much in him and thought he mattered was touching. At least someone believed in him.

“There’s a pistol in my briefcase if you need it. It’s loaded.” Despite himself, he glanced over his shoulder and back ahead, realizing he needed to put the car in park or his expensive sports car would be entering wooded vegetation. His feet ease onto the break and he stopped the vehicle, then he considered his words carefully. Noticed the gloves and realized that she was probably telling the truth about this not being her first rodeo. 

“What other options do I have?” Again his knuckles clutching the driving wheel turned white. “Good luck, Laura. And thank you.” He glanced over at her, expression resigned, sad, and worried. What if she lost her life at this moment because of him? Blood on his hands. The blood of someone too young who had a whole life ahead of her. What dreams did she carry? What did she want to become? “Please…be safe.” Soft concern.

𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮

Jun 17th 2022 - 6:07 PM

Would she stay or leave? He was fairly good at reading expressions, and her face told him everything he didn’t want to know. He was half-minded to dismiss her as an act of concern for safety. Truthfully, he was exhausted. So much had happened within a matter of minutes. Becoming the monster he never wanted to be - as indicated by his surroundings - was a torturous disappointment. Worse, he did recall that he had considered hurting Laura. She was a tough girl, he knew she wasn’t entirely human and stood a better chance than anyone in an assault. That wasn’t the point. How could he even consider harming her?

While he was internally debating on his next words, teetering on a decision to make, Laura bravely crossed the distance between them. Seeing her outstretched hand…for a moment, he didn’t even understand. Was she the dove, the olive branch? A gesture of peace and trust he probably didn’t deserve. Harvey stared at her hand for several moments before his azure eyes dropped to gaze at his knuckles, sharp splinters of mirror sticking out. Blood trickling. Oh, God. He hadn’t even noticed…And now, he felt the sharp-dulled pain shooting up his arm. Slowly, carefully, he offered his hand to her. Not wanting to frighten the one person in his life who had witnessed the devil that existed inside his head. And actually stuck around.

Their blue eyes met and he stared, trying to speak again. As though he wanted to say thank you, or say he wouldn’t harm her, or something along the lines that he was himself and everything would be alright. Golden-intentioned promises that he wasn’t sure he could continuously keep. He appreciated her help. Words swirled around his mind like troubled waters, splashing into his gaze. His lips moved to stay something but nothing flowed out. 

Closing the dry chapped tiers, Harvey gave a nod of approval, allowing himself to be guided across the floor. Stumbling over broken objects until he was sitting down, shoulders sagging. Taking in the scene of wreckage made him wilt inside like a dying rose. Had he really done all of this? Already, he only vaguely remembered what had happened. Grace had been there, then a gunshot. The rest was muddled and difficult to remember. What had happened?

Cringing, he allowed his wounds to be tended. Thankful to have the glass removed though it hurt like a bitch. There was truly so much he didn't know about her. Typically, they didn't discuss their past or anything too personal. She was guarded too. Her comment, however, made him smile a little and he glanced away bashfully. “I’ve never been much of a fighter, I’m surprised I know how to throw one.” 

Noticing her awkwardness, he reached with his uninjured hand to touch her wrist softly. “You’re doing great, Laura. I’m thankful that you…that you’re here.” Bittersweet. Preferably, no one ought to see him like this…but he was thankful Laura found him rather than Gilda, Jim, or Bruce. Or anyone else for that matter. If it had been someone other than Laura, what would have happened to them? It was recognition of her face and how much he cared about her that brought him back from the other personality. He moved his hand away, brushing hopelessly at his messy sweat dampened locks, or removing particles from his clothing.

As soon as she gave assistance in putting him back together…at least, more assembled, he look down and smiled in his sad way. His own hands touched for a moment, inspecting the bandaging. It would hurt a whole lot worse later when the alcohol was fully flushed from his system.

“Laura…” He paused. Lips smoothing together, teasing one another while he struggled to gather his thoughts in a formation that would be articulate. “I want to tell you something.” Well, he didn’t mean to say that, but it seemed like he felt like being open with her. Taking her hand in his uninjured one, he held it gently. Affection, much like a father to a daughter in the gesture. Harvey covered her hand with the other. “There is…there is something very wrong with…with me. I-” He paused. This was hard. He wasn’t the type to be emotionally open with others for a plethora of reasons. “I don’t know why I did all of this.” Letting go for a moment, he motioned to the violent disarray of the room. “I don’t. But. I saw…My wife here. She was here.”

Daring to look up and into her eyes. “I know, that doesn’t make much sense, because she’s been dead for five years. But, I-I saw her. She has been visiting me. I don’t…I don’t know how. She was here, Laura.” His expression was a mixture of love, hopefulness, and tragedy. Wanted to convince her that this really happened. That there was some miracle that Grace could speak with him and visit him from beyond the grave. Where he was even going with this, he had no idea. As if he were simply rambling. While it shook him with fear to tell it, another emotion he felt was freedom. Finally, someone else knew about her, and a weight was taken from his shoulders.

“Grace would adore you. She wanted to have children, and I always tell her no. Being in law school and getting my career off the ground was more important to me. And I also worried, because of my father…I worry what I might do to a child.” Harvey took a breath, knowing he needed to bring this to a close. What he really had intended to say. “I want you to promise me something. I want you…I want you to run if I am ever like this again. I want you to run and not look back.”

𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮

Jun 16th 2022 - 1:04 PM


His bed felt warm and comfortable, and it was kind of Laura to make an appearance and look after him in this pathetic condition. Consequently, he loathed alcohol. On the other hand, it was a useful vice when he fell into these episodes of grief, morose, and unable to function. He always called them “sick days” as if he had the flu, a stomach condition, a cold, or some other medical ailment. White lies that left his tongue in a soft sigh, natural with a brush of dulled depression. Gilda knew about his benders though she didn’t mention it to him, she played the role she was supposed to as a secretary for a public figure. Covering his behavior because she understood he would never want anyone to know.

How could he allow anyone to see just how broken he was inside? That he was actually a fragile creature. How imperfect, and how…He never told people about the voices or the visions he saw. Especially of his dead wife. Back in New York, five years ago, he mentioned it to his grief therapist who suspected it was simply a manifestation of loss that would subside and go away. For a while, she had. Now she had returned, and he had no idea how to deal with her randomly appearing presence. If other people found out he wasn’t mentally sound, they would likely remove him from office. That was one of his fears. After all, he had made a vow to Grace that he would carry on their work of making a difference in the world. Carrying that torch without her, because it was their project, their one child. Despite her death, he didn’t want to let her down. And he also resolutely wanted to do good in the world.

It was his choice to not be like his father. They couldn’t know, it would ruin everything he had built.

Beneath his tall and slender frame, the king-size bed was a comforting cloud. He was drifting. Although the tears had stopped, his eyes were raw, red, and puffy. Delirium rushed through his mind. He hadn’t slept much for days. At times, his mind relived the trauma of the day the police arrived at his mansion and told him the news. That they had found his wife’s body and they were going to pursue answers. One might think the murder of his father would have been the most shattering moment of his life, but nothing could compare to losing his wife. Harvey had never loved his dad. He hated him. But Grace? To be found in the Long Island Sound, the cause of death was not drowning. She had never deserved to die like that.

Reaching up, he rubbed a hand over his face. Trying to sort himself through the dredge of expensive liquor and emotionally muddled sludge.

“Harvey?” It was her voice. Immediately, he sat up with opened azure eyes, staring at her. She was still wearing the floral dress. Come to think of it, it was the dress he last saw her in. They stared at each other across the small distance without speaking for some moment.

“...Grace…?” He felt a mixture of exhaustion and relief. “Why…How…?”

“Honey, what are you doing to yourself?” Her expression was tragic as his own eyes. Grace approached, touching a cool yet solid hand to his cheek. Harvey froze for a moment, then tilted and melted into the palm, staring up at her lovingly.

“I miss you. You’re…you’re dead. I…” Normally a very articulate man, his words slightly slurred with slow delivery.

“I know.” A beautiful saddened smile curved on her lips. Even now, they gazed at one another with profound love. “I came back. I have to tell you something important. Are you going to remember?”

Could he? God, he didn’t know. “I’ll try.” Her thumb brushed tenderly against his cheek. Could they stay like this? Would she be willing to stay forever? Whether a drunken dream, a hallucination, a ghost…Whatever this was, she was stunningly luminous and felt so real. And if he had a choice, he would never go back to the other reality. They could be lovers for eternity in this surreal space. The temptation was so gripping, that he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back. His psyche balancing on the edge of no return. Grace seemed to understand and looked even more saddened as if she could read his thoughts and expression.

“Harvey. There is someone inside you and he-” There was a gunshot and she exploded into glittering particles. Something about this gunshot was familiar as if a memory. Behind Grace’s shimmering dissolving light was a masculine figure in the background, holding a pistol, wearing a perfectly white grin. Half of his face covered in darkness. That face…it looked like him.

“No.” Just one blink and all of it was gone.

His hands gripped the edge of the bed until his knuckles were white. Out of nowhere, a whirlwind of rage struck. A supernova of fury kept hidden deep inside the darkest recesses of his mind. Standing up, he grabbed one of the expensive bottles of cologne and threw it at the wall, putting a hole in it, and shattering it against the floor. Next, everything he grabbed was being thrown, tossed over, and smashed. Arriving at the vanity mirror, he caught his reflection only for a moment. A profound sense of self-loathing and anger hit like a train. Harvey fist smashed his fist into it's smooth surface, causing splinters of spider web cracks and fragments of glass to shatter. Pumped with rage and adrenaline mixed with alcohol, he lacked the feeling of pain despite his cut, bruised and bleeding hand.

Grabbing a bookend, he was about to smash something else when he caught another reflection in the broken fragments of the mirror. Large, innocent ocean-hued eyes framed by a storm of dark hair. For a moment, he looked down at the potential weapon, tempted to throw it at her face and smash that too. But something within shifted, and control clicked back into place. Immediately, Harvey became sobered and calm as the furious rage disappeared. Laura.

Silence. Slowly, he gently placed the bookend onto the shards of mirror across the surface of the vanity table that bore his shamed reflection. Within only a minute or so, he had trashed his bedroom to the degree in looked as if a twister had struck. Finally gathering his resolve to actually face her, the district attorney half turned and stared at the young lady he had hired to protect him. A person he was fond of and cared about. His expression was guilty and humiliated. A trickle of blood ran down his knuckles, soundlessly dripping on the floor. For once, he looked disheveled rather than meticulously put together. 

“Don’t tell anyone." A pause. "Please.” It had been a long, long time since he had felt this exposed and vulnerable.

𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮

Jun 15th 2022 - 9:39 PM

Save your ass. He was doing his best to maintain a calm and indifferent composure. In fact, people might say that he could be  classified as a classic under reactor. It was due to his childhood, he had to learn not to be too expressive, not to show much weakness, or else it was a fist, a bottle, or some other object against his skin. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t having a reaction. Harvey was focusing on his breathing. Trying not to spiral into abandon with anxiety. Laura was helping, but her reaffirming how much his life was in danger was rattling.

Keep calm. Be slow. Remember what Grace used to say. With effort, he stretched his long fingers and tried to relax them. When the compact make-up is brandished, his brow knitted a little. Was she…was she doing make-up at a moment like this? Really? Harvey blinked. Suddenly, he remembered how his wife used to put on her foundation and setting powder every morning. The delicate details of eyeliner and eyeshadow, blush across her cheeks. Finishing with her choice of perfume for the day. All the tiny details he had noticed and watched, hypnotized, transfixed that anyone like her could possibly love him…

They were moving into traffic and mentally, he was in several places. “Cellphone?” He echoed. Then realized what she was doing. Sh*t. It didn’t sound good at all. Teeth dug into his lower tier, toying with the sensitive flesh.

“You’re so weak, Harvey. Look at you. You’re about to be followed, possibly killed, and you’re unraveling. How pathetic. You have a gun, Harvey-Tarvey. Shoot them first." 

Traffic never stayed still for very long, they were moving again. Stop and go, through the city red lights. He didn’t offer many words, his mind felt frantic. “Shoot them all.” When they were stopped again, he glanced back at the briefcase in the backseat. Knowing inside was a standard self-defense pistol. She instructed him to go to a desolate place and not drive away. Possibly he shouldn’t look.

“Are-are you certain? You’re so…” Young. He didn’t mean to be ageist toward her, but she looked nearly like jail bait. There hadn’t been enough time to read her application to even see how old she was. And while she had a valid point that no one would ever suspect it, he didn’t even know if she was of legal age to even touch a weapon. How could he send such a young person to fight his battles, when they had nothing to do with her? “I don’t know.” He sighed. “If you were smart, you’d stay away from me.” Harvey felt the internal moral struggle. After all, he was governed by a moral compass. How would he feel with her blood on his hands?

“Ask the coin, Harvey." There was laughter. 

Stop. Shut up.” Whispered words. Reaching up, he rubbed his palm against his forehead as his composure began to crack. Hand slamming against the horn angrily to get the driver in front of him to move. Why wouldn’t that voice just shut up?! He was accustomed to having thoughts in his head, the voice sounded just like his own. But the problem was, he would never speak that way, nor consider killing unless absolutely necessary.

“We’ll go to an abandoned place, but I’m calling 911. I can’t allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.” They turned down a street that would take them to the outer fringes of Gotham. He muttered beneath his breath. “…I’m not worth it.” Reaching toward the screen on the dashboard, he hit the voice command. “Call 911.”
Wee Hughie

Jun 4th 2022 - 9:17 PM

// either or is fine!
Wee Hughie

Jun 4th 2022 - 8:14 PM

// of course you can !
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