Love is kinda crazy

[restingstitchface]

WHO: Jonathan Crane and OPEN.
WHERE: Porter cities. See prompts for details.
WHEN: During February.
WHAT: The Scarecrow's leaving his post to meet folk.
WARNINGS: Child abuse is mentioned.

A: Meetings in De Chima - throughout the month

[A visitor to Wayne Enterprises might spot the name Dr Jonathan Crane on one office door. Heroes might pass the time by slipping inside and poking around his desk. People he's made arrangements with will find him sitting behind his desk, awaiting their appointment. Or they might knock the door loudly and, shockingly, discover he isn't there. On other days, you might spot him feeding the crows in the Municipal Park round the corner - and he'll be scribbling notes as he does this.

Sam's Grill is a place Crane occasionally visits for lunch. Every time he claims the same table in a quiet corner. He might not answer you at first; he's too busy thinking about work.]


B: Maurtia Falls - February 6th

[There are few places Crane enjoys visiting more than the Maurtia Falls Institute of Art, due in no small part to the uncultured moneybags who believe attendance equals intelligence. If he cannot be spotted inflicting his ill temper on an unfortunate soul having a conference with him, those calling in at the Brew World Order teashop might see him imbibing a cup. Some of you might have business with him. If you're late, his face will remain an emotionless mask; but his attention will be on the daily newspaper. In other cases, he might be asking you to excuse his presence so he can pass by. He might also be in Petyr Baelish's Ambassador's Office.

What might he want there?]


C: Hotel Castile - February 8th

[Eventually, when folk aren't looking, a scarecrow climbs off its pole and wanders to friendly hunting fields. Jonathan is visible in the Hotel Castile today, and can be found in the bar savoring the timeless atmosphere. He's certainly polite enough to most of the residents who want a space at his table, even with his fingers struggling to stop clawing at that dark itch under his skin that thrives on fear. The itch begins to subside only to be replaced by a tingling that won't be sated till he's wearing his sackcloth. Early the next morning, a strawman is concealing itself in the dark corridors. Eluding friendly patrons and stalking the fearful ones. It might be happy to chat to the hotel's blackest residents. Perhaps that resident is you?

Unless you're Sally. Who might spot it leaning against a wall in a part of the hotel most don't use, lighter in hand. Need a light, girl?]


D: Nonah, closed to Harley - February 4th

[Crane unlocks the door and it swings inward, revealing a hall emptied of all of his books.

He takes a very deep breath, and does an admirable job of keeping his eyes from dropping down anywhere near her cleavage. His hand, still on the handle, grips tighter, turning his knuckles white. She's wearing a detestable pink coat. By comparison he's been caught without his jacket, with his sleeves rolled down to his elbows. He looks casual. There is an unforgiving look behind his eyes. Whether he's angry at his appearance or her dripping on his floor is another matter.

He steps away from his door.]

Come. I have a kettle boiling on the stove.


E: Anything you want!

[Just hit me up through DM or safekeeping!]

Comments

9th; Nonah; random small park

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl justified his checking in on Crane after the black out as just paying back the limited kindness the man had showed him when Daryl went off about New Years. Sending him an invite to meet up to 'talk books' in a relatively secluded park in the suburbs of Nonah? Not so easily excused. Doing it on the day of the week he and Mako weren't drifting, even more so.

And it wasn't even that he was hiding this from her. She knew what he'd planned as soon as the idea came into his head. He wasn't trying to hide any of it from her. But it was easier to actually go out and do it when her worry over him and what was driving him to make said decisions weren't being fed directly back to him.

So to the park he went. And in the park he waited. A pair of ravens sitting on his shoulders cawing in his ear for attention. He was already strongly considering leaving five minutes into the wait. But didn't. Crane actually agreeing to come seemed like a miracle in and of itself with how standoffish he'd been in the past. Leaving him high and dry would just make things worse.

[restingstitchface]

Well, Jonathan had arrived a few minutes early.

But, despite his preference for punctuality, he'd discounted the presence of a couple of ravens, an unwitting reminder of trauma. And here he was thinking he could trust the situation to remain stable; that he could believe in his control.

His shoulders, stiff, are forced down. He wets his dry lips; wishing he could terrorize the local flock pecking at the lawn but unable to get away with it. The ravens have put him in a bad mood, at least, but he masks it well. He has no issue being seen wiping at his fingers with a handkerchief as he approaches.

"Good evening."

[dirtyredneck]

As soon as Crane was close enough to speak without shouting, Daryl moved to lift the birds off his shoulder and set them down on the table he was sitting on. He nodded at each as he moved them by way of introductions, "Jackhammer. Nailgun. Hope it's okay they're here. I need to keep them with me as much as possible so I can feed their greedy asses when they get hungry."

He wasn't actually aware of Crane having a bad reaction, he'd just gotten enough bad reactions from the Native public in minor ways that he was now aware they weren't as well received in general as he was. So once they were on the table and trying to hop back over to climb on him, he made a noise and told them to stay. A command they knew perfectly well and also knew not to fight him on at this point. Fortunately.

"If you'd rather I keep 'em at home, next time I can ask Mako to take 'em," he continued before he nodded and squeezed the paperback he'd brought in a nervous manner he was trying to hide. "You uh... you ever White Fang?"

De Chima, Wayne Enterprises

[acclimatized]

The last time John was at Wayne Enterprises, he was responding to an SOS call and fighting newly super-powered natives down in the laboratories. Today's visit is more low key, giving John the opportunity to wander along at his own pace and admire the building properly. It's not completely a social visit though -- he brought along a card for Bruce Wayne, made by the children in the hospital to say thank you for keeping them happy and entertained during the blackout. He passes it over to Bruce's secretary, and then continues looking around the building.

Because come on, who wouldn't want to snoop around Wayne Enterprises when they know Bruce Wayne is Batman?

There's one point where John has to stop and take a step back to make sure he read name on the door he passed correctly. He glares at the name on the door, lips pressed into a thin line as he wills the letters to rearrange into a name that doesn’t enrage him. Is this some kind of joke?

He looks to his left and his right and then tries the door, finding it unlocked.

[restingstitchface]

The office is a base of academic research; a collection of papers, books and chemical equipment. Every day Crane can be found here, reading to himself or pretending to be a productive member of society. But he has to leave occasionally, and it's at one of those times John's come calling.

There are a stack of notes on Crane's desk. It looks as though he isn't going to be missing for long.

[acclimatized]

John was pleasantly surprised when he found the door was unlocked. Either Crane is dedicated to keeping up the pretence of his rehabilitation or he simply doesn't care. Surely he won't mind if John lets himself in and has a look around. If he does... well, that's a shame.

He closes the door behind him with a soft click, wandering inside. It looks like he's been here for a while now, judging by all his personal effects. He stops next to the chemical equipment first, inclining his to the side and regarding it with a suspicious sniff. He moves along again and stops by his desk. He glances over the paperwork, idly flipping through until he sees a name he recognises: the name of a native nurse working in the same practice as him.

B, tea shop

[dun_moch]

By this time, the staff at Brew World Order are familiar enough with their most loyal imPort customer that the baristas greet Count Dooku with a formal 'My Lord' when he sweeps into their establishment. It's unusual to the natives, but Dooku likes it, and he does keep bringing them new customers along with his own patronage, which is good enough for the proprietors to play along with the affectations of space nobility.

Dooku isn't intending to have one of his clandestine meetings today. He has come to genuinely appreciate Brew World Order as a fine place to have decent tea and a private place to think by himself, which is his purpose when he enters and spots Doctor Crane sitting with a cup. For a moment, the Count's eyes narrow, wondering if Crane might be here for him. There is only one way to find out though, and Dooku approaches with a smile that is as warm as it is false.

"Doctor Crane," he intones in his inimitable voice. "What a pleasant surprise. Truly, it has been far too long. May I join you?"

[restingstitchface]

Crane glows under the warmth of Dooku's smile. Reflecting its hollowness with practised precision, he folds his newspaper and gestures open-handed at the opposite chair. He doesn't feel surprised to see the Count here; yet he isn't drawing up a script, thinking of proper words, making covert observations.

Oh, but he is tempted to give Dooku the impression he's been waiting. To spook him even just a little. He fingers his cup. Would it pay to lie? That is, would it be productive? Idly, he wonders what would happen if he set up a little confrontation. He shrugs it off, not looking that bothered about it...

"You will certainly get no argument from me." Then, once the man is seated. "How are you?"

[dun_moch]

"I am well, all things considered." In truth, there's a bit of stiffness in Dooku's right arm that will be visible to Crane's keen eyes. He caught a couple of shotgun pellets courtesy of the 417 during the blackout. Dooku survived- the shooter didn't.

"And yourself, Doctor?" The Count scrutinizes Crane for a moment, narrowing his eyes, noting the subtle shifts in his face since they last met. Has he aged? "You'll pardon me for saying so, but you seem somewhat... different."

Maurtia Falls Institute of Art; 6th Feb

[cleptes]

Those 'uncultured moneybags' as he described them were the kind of people that Bela mixed with back home. They were also the same people she swindled, conned and occasionally pick-pocketed from. She wasn't here for that though. Bela actually wanted to experience some culture.

What Bela wasn't necessarily so keen on was bumping into one Jonathan Crane.

"It's been a while, Doctor Crane." Her tone is polite, if a little strained. "I didn't know you were into fine art."

[restingstitchface]

As far as visitors go, Bela isn't the worst he can think of. There are five he can name who couldn't make it through the door without alarming security. Julian Day being the prime contender.

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. This is as much as she's getting as a greeting.

"That depends," he says calmly. "Are you referencing fine art, good art, or fine art as a form?"

He doesn't want to share why he hasn't enjoyed art for a while. Not yet.

[cleptes]

Better than being outright ignored by him.

"Fine art as a form." Bela confirms, still in that tone of voice. "Apologies for not clarifying that before."

She looks around the room for a moment to see who else was around. Not very busy for a Monday, probably because a lot of people were at work. Bela was lucky because she could set her own hours and today, her shop was closed.

in a classy enough bar

[catchacold]

[By the time the good doctor joins him, Leonard has already been in this bar for a while. He's sitting in a booth, providing the privacy that was asked for, and is nursing a drink, dark liquid with more than the usual amount of ice cubes floating in it.

His legs are folded under the table and he leans back, one hand on the bench, head turned to watch as Crane approaches. He lifts his glass in greeting, nodding his head.]

Cheers.

[restingstitchface]

[Crane placidly bows his head, and catches how Leonard is sitting at the table. Calm, confident. He strolls over and slides his briefcase under the table. He then slips onto his bench, brushing against the padded backrest. A drink can wait. Conversation cannot. He lays his hands together on the table before drawing them apart.]

Good evening. You like slipping in early, then?

[catchacold]

Mostly I like slipping in unnoticed. In this case, doc, I just didn't want to keep you waiting.

[Manners. He takes a slow sip of his drink and sets the glass back down, fishing one ice cube out and setting it down on the table, passing it between the fingers of one hand in a kind of dexterity exercise.]

So, did you just miss me or are we discussing business?

[morethan084]

[Don't mind Daisy. She's just been spying interning here when she has a chance. She's been doing a pretty good job at it too, or at least she thought she was. Obviously daisy had no idea that Bruce was Batman and that he knew who she was.

Daisy had just gotten lunch when she spotted Crane and it was hard for her not to grip her tray tightly. She didn't think twice about walking over to him, trying not to look too tense as she placed her tray down on his table and moved to take a seat.]

Busy day at work?

[Hi. Asshole.]

[restingstitchface]

Oh.

[Crane closes his eyes. He focuses on nothing but the bottle of water icly clenched by his right hand. Twisting the lid off, he looks like wants to pour it over himself - or over her. So he looks up at her. He doesn't turn his gaze away like he's supposed to - Jonathan, it's rude to stare - and clears his throat.]

Yes. I'm very busy. Did you want something?

[morethan084]

[Good. Any way she could make him feel uncomfortable or uneasy was good in her book. She didn't need some damn drug to strike fear into him.]

You look it. Just wanted to say hi. See how you're doing.

[Dick.]

[hypodermicgurl]

"Oh, honey. You didn't have to dress up."

She's steadier than normal. Not entirely sober, moments like that are few and far between. But it's early yet, for her. So she catches the glint of the lighter, smile spreading over her face as she pulls a cigarette out of her coat and hangs it between her lips.

"I didn't even know we were going out tonight."

[restingstitchface]

Wordlessly, he lights her cigarette, smiles and leans back against the wall. He slides his hands into his pockets; tips back his head and focuses on nothing but her body. An addict craving her fix. How would she feel to be torn apart from her dependency? A crawling numbness? Would that coldness settle in her chest? He shivers.

"We don't need to go out to have a little fun. I trust you're not averse to a private nightcap?"

[hypodermicgurl]

Alarm bells should be going off. Sudden change in demeanor, inviting her in. But instead it just makes her eyelids flutter as she takes her first long drag of the cigarette. With the exhale she moves in closer, hand coming up to trail along his arm. It wouldn't be the first time, probably wouldn't be the last, that something just broke in someone in the hotel. That the unthinkable become the inevitable.

If she'd caught him in just the right moment, she wasn't going to spit a gift horse in the eye.

"I'm all yours."

de chima, municipal park

[helpline]

[ The Doctor visited De Chima more often than not. De Chima Technical Institute had a wonderful telescope, somewhere that the Doctor often visited to check his star charts against the telescope's star charts against the star charts that he had rattling in his brain back at his universe.

It was amazing how similar this Earth was to the Earth back home. And yet, every once in a while, there was a planet or a star that was just slightly out of place for seemingly no reason. He hated it and loved it at the same time.

Of course, you can't eat lunch in the room with the expensive telescope. Lunch was a turkey sandwich at a park. And hello, it seems he's not the only imPort at the park today. Spotting Crane feeding the crows, the Doctor grins. Crane's pleasant conversation enough, and feeding birds? Well that's certainly a good sign, he hasn't had someone to talk with and feed the birds with ever since Margaux was Ported out.

Walking right up to Crane, he sits down right next to the man on the bench, acting as if this is a perfectly normal thing and they're totally good buds. ] Next time you're in Heropa, I know a good place that's got plenty of pigeons to feed--they're wonderful conversationalists as well.

[restingstitchface]

[Seconds pass. In between feeding the crows that come calling, and feeling his own confidence grow, Crane pointedly avoids giving his visitor any attention. There is a wonderful comfort in feeding these birds, in having power over something that had once emptied his life of meaning. His expression is calm and serene as he thinks about how he now decides what happens in his life. His world feels in tune.]

Oh, I agree. I knew a pigeon once, you know. He was terribly fond of psychology.

[And then that pigeon, his mentor, stabbed him in the back, the coward.]

D; JUST FOR ME; BECAUSE I'M SPECIAL

[itistolaugh]

[Um, correctly, she is wearing a fabulous pink coat, but she will concede that faux fur was a poor choice on a rainy night. In her defense, she hadn't planned to bail on her date, but it was boring and he wasn't that cute after all so she climbed out of bathroom window because that's a measured and reasonable reaction.]

Who actually uses a kettle anymore? You probably just like the aesthetic.

[She shrugs the soggy pink monster off and leaves it in a pile by the door.]

So, I think I don't like dating anymore.

[restingstitchface]

[He shrugs her comment off, correct as it is, while nudging the coat aside with his foot. Not that he is opposed to the color pink or anything, but the sight of it is poisoning his life.]

What an astute realisation. Perhaps there is potential in that mind of yours after all.

[Was that... a compliment???]