#thirdsmartest

@thirdsmartest  :  i  get  the  feeling  we  may  not  be  as  similar  as  you  think.

EDWARD  HAD  THROWN  HIMSELF     right  over  the  nearest  chair,  curling  downward  now  to  adjust  its  height  to  his  liking.  The  ebb  of  his  courtesy  evidently  cannot  extend  beyond  keeping  the  other's  lab  a  NO  -  CRIME  zone.     His  leisure,  as  it  is,  and  the  theatrical  way  he  carries  his  amusement,  will  seldom  dare  to  orphan  him  –  eternally  spun  'round  the  length  of  his  cane  and   the  rim  of  his  hat.    "Well,  then  it's  only  that,  dear.  A  feeling.  Not  so  substantial  now,  is  it?"

The  tip  of  his  shoe  presses  against  the  floor,     pushing  the  chair  to  spin  'round  and  'round.    "Nooo,  no.  Not  at  all."    He  stops,  and  about  him  lingers  this  air  of  something  to  come,     clinging  to  the  curl  of  his  smile  and  prying  at  the  walls  to  still  and  listen,  just  like  the  man  before  him  should.    "Think  about  it.  Understand  me.  Get  it,  Mister  Holt.  What  does  the  humble  tomato  have  in  common  with  the  deadly  night  shade?"

“ What were you planning to do? ”

plans that they were sure were going to work if they had gotten a chance to do them. predictability coming across in people that didn't think through their actions--but they did, they thought of everything, or most things. simulations running at a constant instantaneous rate. then even if the calculations had gone by quickly, they were too slow to action. stagnant and paused by systematic glitches when unknown or too dangerous a factor showed into their view. then there needed to be more thought, more development put it until...

...well, someone else solves it first.

" fix the. take down the bad guys. " drifting between tones, they weren't sure where to settle yet--what kind of person they should be around this hero.

" trap them somewhere they couldn't cause trouble, eliminate the immediate threat then- "

they gave a gesture of their hand, talons raking through the air as fractals bounced off the edges of each imperfect prism. they had been ready to do it, they could have, surely. the most important part of the situation was eliminating the prime threat, priorities had not been on what do with the 'bad guys' afterwards.

ᯓ nonverbal prompts ᵎᵎ

as if one notorious intruder wasn’t enough, rats had to forewarn her of another? oh my goooood, did these people ever stick to themselves? there was no such thing as privacy in this city. it’s like squatter’s rights didn’t mean anything anymore. maybe odette should take that to court.  ( yeah, her and what money? that’s funny. )

children inform her this is someone they’d never caught wind of before. it only got better, apparently. as if that stupid bat didn’t have enough birds under his wing; what, he’d found another just, laying around? seemed to be how it worked!

she stays strictly out of the water in an attempt to keep her approach quieted, the lantern slung on her hip decidedly unlit. she didn’t need it  -  saw better in the dreary conditions anyhow.

plans had been made in her head to …. sneak attack? he looked easy enough to tackle to the ground from behind. focused on something at his feet, squatted down and observing it with tech far more advanced than her flimsy flip phone. she wouldn’t attempt to understand it.

she’s more so stuck on who the fuck this guy even was. she’s never seen him in her life. though, that wasn’t exactly uncommon.

turns out, he's smarter than her. this was also not uncommon. while odette believes herself the upper hand here, it’s obvious an eye is being kept on her. her takedown attempt, embarrassingly futile. the guy swiftly dodges out of her grasp, cause for the woman to helplessly squeak. s flail, and she slams face first into the filthy concrete.    ❝ guh. ❞

An incredibly long drag is taken off his cigar, the tip glowing an almost blinding red before he would exhale a cloud of noxious fumes into the room. He had little regard for the concepts of second-hand-smoke, in fact he almost enjoyed the fact that he was being such a nuicence. "Why am I here?? Th' better question is why are YOU here, desk-jockey? Ya ain't got no powers, cept' them lil' balls of yers..."