young, dumb, & broke

[ployboy]

WHO: Tim Drake and (---)
WHERE: Fountain Park, nowhere and everywhere
WHEN: August 28, and surrounding days
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: N/A but will warn in threads

---

Arrival (South Village) : Fountain
[He coughs, and he wakes up.

He wakes up because, when he coughs, there's water rushing down his throat and up his nose and into his lungs. It's not the most pleasant way to wake up after an exhausting night's work. Thankfully (for some given value), it isn't the least pleasant way to wake up, either. Not in Tim's mind. So his throat burns and his eyes have trouble adjusting to the blur of being underwater (fresh water), and it's taking a hell of a lot of control to not give in to the urge to let the coughing fit take over and instead suppress it (Tim's pretty sure he's either beet red or splotching blue at this point). He listens to training, though, and refuses to drown before he at knows what the hell's happened; he's climbing over the lip of the pool (no, fountain) in no time at all, just kind of hanging there for a moment as his eyes adjust again to the surface.

No... immediate threat, that he can process. And still, he's got goosebumps of sorts. The backpack (waterproof-- weird) is ditched and Tim sucks in a breath before submerging himself in the water again. He dives purposefully to the bottom of the fountain-- it's all solid underneath. He pushes, what bit he can. And gives up for today because he's wearing clothes he hadn't been wearing before and that's weird and the next time Tim surfaces, brows pinched in frustration and tiredness (he couldn't even get one full night's sleep)] _{Damn it...} [he sees a-- person. You. Close by. He swings out of the fountain and prays that backpack he's slung onto his shoulders has a towel but first:] You don't look surprised to see me climb out of that thing. [Game: start.]

Arrival (South Village) : Police Station
[He's fresh from the fountain, but his navy blue shirt is hanging from where he'd tied it on a strap of his pack (for easier drying) and he's left in the tank top. It's uncomfortably moist and clings to his skin and Tim wants nothing more than to find a dryer, for heaven's sake-- but that seems like less and less of an attainable fantasy with every block of this town he passes. He's a tourist.

He takes in the sights.

And then he maps out his first destination: coming up this street is what looks undeniably like a police precinct. He makes a beeline for it. There should be records, files, computers, something familiar--

and then he is, not for the first time, so horribly let down.] People keep animals here? [Speaking to himself: check. Stating the fucking obvious: check. Tim steps... almost gingerly through the place anyway, because something has to have been salvaged, right? --god, it's obvious the boy very much wasn't raised on a farm.]

Settling In (South Village) : Inn & Housing & Boathouse
[He'll be around, trying to keep his head relatively low and (amazingly) keeping the exploration to a minimum until he understands this whole... bullshit a little bit better. But Tim isn't keeping still, isn't holing himself up, not really. He knows there's hubbub of something odd, something very uncommon going around. Three cheers for gossip and the habit to eavesdrop. He spends the next few days scouring houses that seem unoccupied, venturing into the Inn during its busier hours just to kind of... hang, and maybe ask questions when someone looks like they definitely know what they're doing.

Occasionally he makes trips to the boathouse, because he doesn't sleep (you can't prove that he does, anyway).

Here is the wildcard option.]

Comments

[scathefires]

[Well, this is a hell of a lot different from the kid who approached him, talking about mutual friends like it was a way into Jason's social circle (another joke, Jason has no social circle to enter, ba-dum tsh). Jason laughs dryly, almost under his breath, and squints out at the horizon.]

Hate to break it to you, kid, but you're not as one-and-only as you think.

[Jason doesn't even have to ask to know this is an entirely different Tim Drake. He wonders briefly what the Jason Todd he knows is like, if he's more like the other Jason he met, the one with the brand on his face, the one who lived -

He really hates this multiverse bullshit. Jason sighs, folds his arms across his chest, shrugs lightly.]

What makes you think I have information on this place?