[oopfsb / darkest timeline] Curtis

[stilljustandrew]

It's not that he hasn't been eating. It's that he hasn't been able to muster the energy to do much more than unwrap a granola bar or a stick of beef jerky or open a packet of chips, once or twice a day. And even at that rate, he's run out.

He made himself take a shower yesterday, which means his clothes have only been slept in once, so he can probably make it through the bar without attracting too much attention. There's a baseball cap to hide his bedhead, and obscure his face a little. If he's lucky, maybe he won't run into anyone he knows.

Down the stairs, one step at a time, and towards Bar.

Comments

[2goodarms]

Curtis doesn't seem too bothered by the accommodations, or Andrew's uncertainty. He gestures to the stool with his remaining arm.

"I've got water, if you want some." Another twitch of a smile. "No sandwiches. Sorry."

[stilljustandrew]

"No, it's okay," he says, and moves cautiously toward the stool.

"Is, uh ... is this the room they gave you?"

[2goodarms]

"Yeah," says Curtis. He rubs the back of his head, scratching underneath the cap. "I couldn't sleep in the first one. Too quiet."

Too comfortable.

[stilljustandrew]

A beat, as he looks (really looks) at Curtis's clothes for the first time.

"So this is, um ... more like what you're used to?" Hesitant.

[2goodarms]

No condescension. No pity, or disgust. Curtis wonders when he'll get used to this part, too.

He nods as he eases himself to the floor, leaning against the wall opposite the desk. "It's still a fucking palace," he admits. "But yeah. Spent eighteen years on a train before I got here."

[stilljustandrew]

His eyes widen.

"... eighteen years on a train?"

[2goodarms]

Another nod.

"It was pretty much the only place we could go," he says. Punctuating his words with a shrug, "Either that or freeze to death."

Which, in the end, may have been preferable. But nobody knew that going in. All anyone could think about was survival.

[stilljustandrew]

"Oh," he whispers.

Another dystopia. Not one he recognizes; there wasn't any train in Fallen Angels, and there wouldn't have been fuel for it in any case....

[2goodarms]

"Anyway." Curtis rubs at his neck again. "Figure this is better than taking more than I need."

There's less chance of damage that way.

"I don't even know what the hell I'd do with a bigger room."

[stilljustandrew]

"I guess," hesitant still, "as long as you're comfortable with this one."

[2goodarms]

"You have to get used to anything like this when you first got here?"

Mentally, Curtis doesn't classify Andrew as from the front, but he doesn't come across like somebody from the tail, either. He's got a feeling Andrew's adjustment period wasn't as bad as his own.

But there's also people from goddamn Mars running around here, so, you know.

[stilljustandrew]

He shakes his head.

"Not really. I mean, there was stuff I had to get used to, but not ..."

Almost unconsciously, a tiny crooked smile starts at one corner of his mouth.

[2goodarms]

"Yeah?"

Unconscious or no, the smile's pretty encouraging.

[stilljustandrew]

"It was a little ... weirder than that. In a different way."

Beat.

"First day I was here, I was recognizing people here from stories. Books, movies, TV shows ... stuff that's fiction in my world."

[2goodarms]

"...No shit." Curtis is smiling a little now, too. "So what, like Mickey Mouse walking around here?"

He remembers Mickey Mouse. Barely, but that's more than pretty much any other cultural touchstone.

[stilljustandrew]

"Basically yeah? I don't think I've seen actual Mickey Mouse, but I definitely saw Bugs Bunny once. And ... bunches of others. And like, I thought this was the best thing ever, right?"

[2goodarms]

"Yeah, it sounds like it'd be pretty cool."

He folds his legs, resting his right leg across his knees as he leans in a bit.

[stilljustandrew]

"So of course I screwed it up."

He looks away, the temporary animation draining out of his face.

[2goodarms]

Curtis cocks his head.

"What happened?" he asks, quietly, after a moment.

[stilljustandrew]

He breathes out.

"Do you guys have the Batman story in your world? Costumed hero who fights crime in Gotham City?"

[2goodarms]

"I don't remember," he murmurs.

[stilljustandrew]

His tiny indrawn breath is audible.

Because that --

He didn't see that coming, and it hits the harder for it.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, tears stinging his eyes again.

[2goodarms]

So much for no pity. Curtis looks away, with another awkward shrug.

It's not like Batman's the worst thing he lost. Pretty damn far from it.

"So did you meet him here...?" he prompts.

[stilljustandrew]

"Y-yeah. But. The thing is." He swallows. "The reason he becomes Batman in the first place is because when he was a little kid, his parents were killed in a mugging. He was there, he saw it happen. And ... I didn't meet him here as a grown man, I met him as that little kid. Like, only a few months after. And ... all I could think was here was this hero I grew up reading about, and how cool it was that I got to meet him, and ..."

Another swallow. The old shame has never quite left him.

"I scared him. I didn't mean to."

[2goodarms]

Well, yeah. That'd do it.

"What'd you do after that?"

(Because that's the important part: what comes next.)