[He's not as armed as he likes to be. Even just in the matter of utility, which is actually pretty irritating, if mostly because he's pretty sure Mr. Crook and Co. made off with most of his gear while he was busy being unconscious and then charged him for the pleasure. But they did leave the important things, like they could tell they'd be playing with fire if they didn't. And that'll be enough for now.
So much for being prepared. Better, though, not to need it.
There's a tick of something in his face and his posture that's hard to read in the dark. A tight shift in his jaw and the set of his shoulders. Defensiveness, or aggravation, or bitter amusement, at the thought of being made to do any of this alone. And since Jason's already done his little investigatory circuit of the hall, he's well positioned to fuck off and handle it himself if he really wanted to. But.
It's been an interesting night already, might as well keep it going. Besides, they're burning moonlight. The tick of time keeps climbing since that last ominous thud. Abruptly all business—]
Stairs are to the north and south. [Like he's followed that look down the hall and picked up the train of thought. Predictably, both of the stairwells are pretty much unmarked in the darkness. The city's most unhelpful emergency exits. Maybe the upstairs will be luckier. He raps his knuckles on the wall beside him.] Closer if you hang a right.
[That is—Back the way he came. He barely seems to pause to weigh the pros and cons to turning his back to a guy he still kind of half-suspects of attempted late night B&E at his expense. (A certain kind of cockiness, or confidence, or both.) Just pushes himself up away from the wall and ducks his way out of the hallway toward the right nondescript-looking door.
Might be for the best if he takes point, anyway. Marc's very unBatmanlike white-on-white silhouette doesn't make for the most subtle approach.]
no subject
So much for being prepared. Better, though, not to need it.
There's a tick of something in his face and his posture that's hard to read in the dark. A tight shift in his jaw and the set of his shoulders. Defensiveness, or aggravation, or bitter amusement, at the thought of being made to do any of this alone. And since Jason's already done his little investigatory circuit of the hall, he's well positioned to fuck off and handle it himself if he really wanted to. But.
It's been an interesting night already, might as well keep it going. Besides, they're burning moonlight. The tick of time keeps climbing since that last ominous thud. Abruptly all business—]
Stairs are to the north and south. [Like he's followed that look down the hall and picked up the train of thought. Predictably, both of the stairwells are pretty much unmarked in the darkness. The city's most unhelpful emergency exits. Maybe the upstairs will be luckier. He raps his knuckles on the wall beside him.] Closer if you hang a right.
[That is—Back the way he came. He barely seems to pause to weigh the pros and cons to turning his back to a guy he still kind of half-suspects of attempted late night B&E at his expense. (A certain kind of cockiness, or confidence, or both.) Just pushes himself up away from the wall and ducks his way out of the hallway toward the right nondescript-looking door.
Might be for the best if he takes point, anyway. Marc's very unBatmanlike white-on-white silhouette doesn't make for the most subtle approach.]