possibly a corpse

If you think Jinx let me feed Lana anything on the grease side of the menu, I have some eye-opening news for you. 

hhahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I’m--

The cold weather was an advantage; with layering it was nigh impossible to clock the thin padding that made up his makeshift Mirror suit under your standard coat, shirt, and jeans. Only the gloves and high collar may come off as a little odd but in this day and age of fashion he’s been witnessing, the first person he hears call him out for it is going to get a hand-mirror passed their way.

Charlie flexed his fingers in the gloves. The little squeak of stiff padding was so commonplace now that even Boomerang’s ears stayed down, dog happily snoozing on the couch. 

Alright. Day-tour. Sure his last few times have been in the light of dusk or dead of night but it’s not like this was hard. He’ll blend right in. 

“Don’t wait up for me, buddy.” The Monarch reached over, patting Boomerang once on the head and getting a small boof for his troubles. “I know you know how to open the fridge. Help yourself if I’m back late.” 

I keep thinking I’m almost out of here, but before I find the right door I end up right back in this apartment.

Really, if he hadn’t been bogged down with work and dodging all the needling questions about family and holiday plans, he would’ve noticed one of his alerts going off. Some home-made cobbled together thing with a single flickering red light. Piled together from scraps of every single Renegade who has popped up and left their mark on his life before managing to escape again. 

Just one, flickering red light. Alerting him of a time anomaly happening within the range-field he’d set up.

He didn’t even know the thing worked. He’s a glorified scout and historian, not a technician. Field stripping is one thing. This. 

But there it was. Red light flickering away as he passed by it, totally unseeing, for nearly a week of a work-and-alcoholic haze.

I think you’re missing the very clear statement here that he’s actively doing this willinglyversus fucking up, royally.

The English word is hypocrisy, I guess. 

Though there is a large difference in his crimes; both are awful but he’s purposely committed what you’re calling a sin. There was no accident, he wasn’t too slow and slipped up. It was a deliberate event that changed the course of history, purposely committed by someone already going against the fabric of time itself.

[( Fuck, ow?? What was--that’s a rock. ...Wait is that coal? This century still has coal readily enough to throw at people? )]

Oh, probably. I think everyone is. 

I thought we’ve been over this a million times.

Yes.Yes. I took full responsibility for it. I’m still taking responsibility for it. 

How do you survive?