∗ 52﹕ sender takes a [ punch / stab / bullet ] meant for receiver .
@agcraphobic ▸ nonverbal prompts !!
while she may not be a rogue anymore, that doesn't stop her from having a nasty streak in the form of her rather bratty attitude. even in a situation such as this one; where she's found herself tied to a chair, wrists bound and ankles restrained. breathing is laboured, the bag atop her head keeping her from getting much in the way of oxygen. it probably isn't helping that the woman won't stop thrashing around.
or screaming. ❝ - let me 'da fuck outta' here! it ain't a joke, y' fuckin' hear me?! i know y' do, i know y' fuckin hear me! i know one'a youse is jus', waitin' an' listenin'! well, y'er a FUCKIN' LOSER! FUCK YOU! UGH! ❞ chest is heaving with every muffled insult she hurls, knuckles going white from how hard she's dug nails into the arms of her seat. odette wants out, god damn it.
bruce had kept her out of everything since identities were revealed to one another. it was both a safety precaution, and a newfound boundary. he worried, didn't want her getting roped into something that would lead to .... well, this. she shouldn't have to suffer anymore from this vigilante bullshit, she shouldn't have to be some damsel in distress hostage. for bruce, or for batman.
yet, here she was. head hangs, eyes flickering about in the darkness of their sack as she listened to what happened to prove her hollering right - yelling, outside wherever she was. posture shifts, woman perks. it had to be bruce. it had to be. nobody else in this shit hole city would come for her. he'd probably been looking for her since she hadn't returned from the shops. he was astute like that.
the creaking of a door. ❝ ... b ... bats? ❞ it's clear she corrects herself in the middle of her call out, doesn't wish to reveal his identity to any prying ears. she deflates at the sound of his voice - relief, washing over her. admittedly, tears sting her eyes a lil'. she couldn't help it. you think she enjoyed this, getting roughed up and used as bait? ❝ t'ank fuckin' god. ❞
bag is removed from her head, and she smiles at the sight of him. he might have a mask on, but it was still her man. ❝ eheh, my hero. ❞ she muses, bruce questioning if she was alright as he goes about removing her restraints. she answers in the form of a hug, arms thrown around him. she's quiet, barely above a whisper. ❝ t'ank you. ❞
her hand is taken. she's told to keep behind him, that he isn't sure how clear the warehouse truly was. odette obeys, glancing down as they step over unconscious body of the hired guard he'd bodied to get into this room. she can't help but spit on him in passing. what an asshole.
a shout for ratcatcher. odette instinctively turns, eyes widened at the sight of a shotgun in her immediate range. there isn't chance for her to react - but amble time for the batman to do so. she's yanked out of the way, muzzle flash a blinding sight as vigilante takes the goon down. ❝ - bruce! ❞ she does it thoughtlessly, scampers after pair as they scuffle down the hall. she can smell the stench of fresh gunpowder, assailant knocked out cold with a final punch to the jaw. ❝ fuck, jesus - ❞
he's holding his abdomen. he tells odette to hurry. she comes to his side, does her best to support him. ❝ oh my g'awd, oh my g'awd, why'd y'a do 'dat, why'd y' fuckin' do 'dat, baby? ❞