#whitealiice

❝There is more than one doctor in this city.❞ he points out, his eyes on the woman’s wound. Still, his gaze doesn’t linger and he shrugs  ❝Suit yourself.❞ Perhaps he will offer to do the stitches or send her to his own doctor, but for now he is much more interested in the comment she made, a comment that makes him grin and gesture at his coat ❝Oh this? I know a very good tailor. You obviously cannot copy my pattern, but I highly--❞ his index fingers connect with his thumb to emphasises    ❝recommend it. But! ❞ now he holds a finger up  ❝ I am always around, but never seen. I am often avoided but never outrun. I might find you at the end of the road, or around the next corner. What am I?❞  

Footsteps within warehouse to ECHO as he makes his way through. A whistled tune to add to the noise. At first glance, one might consider the place to be abandoned. Oh, how The Walkin’ Dude knew better. He knew the place was occupied, and by who as well.

Alice, Leader of the Wonderland gang of Gotham City. Also known to some as Elizabeth Kane. It was Alice he wanted to meet with. She had been on The Walkin’ Dude’s radar for a while now, and he was quite impressed with her work. He thought that perhaps she would be beneficial to have as an ally. Oh yes, folks like Alice always made useful allies! 

Whistling to come to a sudden halt as he spoke. “Hello,” the cold voice echoed throughout the building, “any bunny home?”

@whitealiice​ asked: “i’m worried about you.”        post - trauma sentence starters

@whitealiice​​ asked:  alice wants to know if she can have his autograph. for science. its for science. 

 @whitealiice​ said: “You’re bleeding- how long have you been hiding this?” (from beth to arthur 👉👈 )

     He didn’t want to tell her about it: another incident in the tragedy that his life that has happened to him that’s left him bruised and tattered. The blood she’s spotted was staining through the sleeve of his white button up shirt from a deep cut that he’s received earlier in the afternoon that he wrapped with toilet paper from a public bathroom in hopes to stop the bleeding while he was on the way from work to the pharmacy. Her voice is laced with concern as she’s looking over his arm and his gaze drops as if he were too ashamed to meet her eyes. The cut was the least of his worries as his body ached, skin and bones bruised along his back and ribs from a beating he took the previous day at work and he’s earned the cut today after falling against a dumpster outside of his work place. He’d gotten lectured by Hoyt, his job on the line all because of things out of his hands and he had taken his anger out on a massive group of garbage bags piled on the outside of the building until his legs bucked and he fell against the dumpster next to the bags. And he would never tell her of the bruises- not because he didn’t trust her but because one day, she’s going to grow tired of his ailments and realize that he’s nothing but inconvenience to those around him and she too, would leave. Everyone always leaves.

     His lips are threatening to tug into a smile, brows lifting as he’s trying to refrain from doing so because he doesn’t want to smile- there was nothing to be smiling over and he didn’t feel the need to explain himself. “Oh, that?” he asked as if he was unaware of it- or if he was, he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “It’s just a little cut.” he told her despite the amount of blood that’s staining his shirt. Emerald eyes drift towards the crimson stained fabric, the white shirt now ruined as Arthur doesn’t have the knowledge to know how to remove stains out clothing. He only had a handful of shirts, most of which he’s bought second hand and this one had been one of his favorites, though he’d wind up throwing it into the trash after he gets home. A soft sigh escaped his lips at the sight of it as he moved his opposing hand so that he could pull his sleeve up and show her as he anticipates her to ask him to see it, rolling the fabric up slowly to reveal the mess of drenched toilet paper wrapped sloppily around his forearm.       He had been on the way home from the pharmacy when he ran into her- a woman kind enough to grant him her time and speak with him. Perhaps the only person in this city who is kind to him: nice people were rare to come by and he seems to scare most of them off the moment he opens his mouth. His mother often tells him it’s because he’s strange and he’s always found himself agreeing with him despite his best efforts to fit in with the society around him. He didn’t think he was strange, not all of the time at least. They’re tucked away near a building out of the way of the foot traffic and he glances around momentarily as if he were embarrassed for anyone else to see, turning his back towards the people passing them by as he carefully plucked away at the toilet paper to reveal a rather deep cut hidden beneath. A soft hiss escaped him as he winced to his own touch, the cut much worse than he made it out to be. Though he’s still trying to assure her that it’s fine- because he can’t afford a trip to the doctor.  “See? Just a scratch.”

@whitealiice​: “ i thought they’d killed you so i lost my temper. ”

A part of her wanted to believe that Beth was still in there, that if she kept trying to reach her that eventually she would find her sister. Unfortunately, a small voice told her that she was wasting her time, that her sister was dead and that Alice needed to be stopped once and for all. That voice was getting louder and louder each day, but she was determined. Stubborn, but determined. Though, in that moment Kate knew that the odds at finding her sister were getting smaller and smaller. She knew her sister was up to something. Just what, though, she was still struggling to figure out. Whatever this tea party was she knew it needed to be stopped. If only she knew the words to say to get through to her. "I'm sorry, Beth. I never gave up but it's hard to ignore it when they say there's proof you died."