#eatdevil

halloween. not an everyday, year-round event… unless you’re in gotham city. people here like to pretend this isn’t the case, and sure, christmas is pretty christmas-y, and summer tastes like a nice cold popsicle– fact remains that you can’t throw a stone without hitting something grisly or gruesome. but they all pretend this isn’t the case. pretend they’re not living in the shadow of wayne manor like this is transylvania and it’s dracula’s castle. pretend there aren’t man-eating monsters stalking the streets and the skyline after dark. pretend they can just shut the door and jump under the covers and it’ll all go away. and for the most part, it works.

it’s gearing up to be spring, wet and almost-warm and windy and thoroughly unpleasant for somebody who’s allergic to pollen like becky is. and there’s somebody on the train wearing a creepy white mask. alright. okay. that’s fine. none of her business, she supposes, more for her sanity than for her morality. she gets off at her stop and keeps telling herself he’s nobody, he’s nobody, he’s nobody.

but then she swears she can hear his breath behind her.

was there something on the news today about another arkham breakout? she can’t recall. this is getting into urban legend territory pretty quickly, isn’t it.

@eatdevil  /  taxi driver sentence starters.  /  accepting.

“you think so?”  so maybe harlem’s a little far out there -- away from hell’s kitchen,  and it would’ve taken more of an effort than hey i was just in the neighborhood and i saw these, thought you might like ‘em for him to be here.  but he’s trying.  for curtis,  anyway.  frank holds the bouquet toward him --  peonies,  in various shades of pink and laughably contrasted to his own dark attire.  his face flushes a little warm about it. 

“mapp’s out of town for the week so -- i do appreciate this,”  pause.  “i could do with something to eat,  though -- so,  there’s take-out menus in that drawer beside the fridge.”