Post-It: ETD 00:04am

[maced_eggs]

[Video]

[Sometime shortly before lunch, an explosion of suds and soapy water escapes the laundry room, leaking out into the hallway. The immediate cause may or may not be Mason, who stands ankle-deep in the flood, missing his shirt and watching in horrified fixation as his own clothes not only wash themselves, but overload all the machines.]


This was not my fault.

...Honestly!!

But I should really like someone corporeal to come do my washing so that this does not happen again.

If anything, it's the Barge's fault for making its machines so bloody complicated. Who the fuck has ghosts doing their fuckin' laundry?

[He sits down in the suds, watching the self-washing laundry in perplexed hopelessness. Might as well take a bath while he's at it]

Comments

[maced_eggs]

They're very fetching on me, thank you.

[sickjoke]

Sort!

[ It's a word like a thunderclap. Jack doesn't get mad very often, but this-- this stupid, petty mess, grating at issues he's shoving down under a red pill cap... ]

[ This is finally the moment something snaps. He's never been a man who has enjoyed roughing up criminals for thrills, and while fear is a necessary part of his arsenal he's never been a Dark Knight defending his city. He's preferred to be a beacon and inspiration. ]

[ That doesn't mean that the growl coming out of the helm and the menacing, crowding body language can't be terrifying it he wants it to be. ]

I will know if you pilfer anything.

[maced_eggs]

[Mason's never done well with authority. He resists any sort of order or common decency introduced into his life, and seems to revel in how abysmally free of responsibility and conscience he can be at times. Fear can snap him into place for a time, but in turn it breeds resentment.

So he'll shrink back with wide eyes as the order comes through, and he'll even reluctantly get to sorting.

But he wont like it. And he'll glare at Red Hood's back while he does his work, petulantly tossing clothes this way and that as he sorts]


Fuckin' jesus christ..

[sickjoke]

[ And muttering, to himself, Jack says: ]

God, why can't I have one ounce of normality? I wish things could just be-- normal. For a day or two. Gotham normal, even....

[ And then just like that... ]

[ Jack is gone, and Mason is saved from sorting. ]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason looks up in surprise, blinking at the empty space where Jack had been.]


Uh.


Issat supposed to happen?