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NOSE CONSUMED BY CANDLES BURNT TOO LONG, ITS OVER-WHELMING SCENT SOMEWHAT REMINISCENT. THEIR SHADOWS CAST THE PERFECT HIDING SPOT, POSITIONED BETWEEN LIGHT AND DARK, ILLUMINATING ONLY THE DEPTHS OF FACIAL STRUCTURE. yet concealment of her presence is not her intention, perhaps only a mask to hide concern unspoken. A TRIGGER PULLED, NOT A WEAPON NORMALLY OF CHOICE BUT TIMING PARAMOUNT AND IT CLOSEST TO HAND. a memory to make the skin crawl, collision of past and present manifesting as the goosebumps invading.

" THAT ALL DEPENDS ON YOUR NEXT MOVE. " AN INQUIRY OF SORTS, ARE YOU GOING TO TRY AGAIN? THE QUESTION BENEATH. " WHY ARE YOU HERE, JAMES? "

[ STARTER CALL / @widova. ]

HE WAS EXPECTING HER, gunshot wound a message rather than a warning. two sides of a magnet, drawn to one another across decades, across mental manipulation, across lines carved by death — he knows her in gotham's darkness as much as she knows him, the creak of a floorboard in the dilapidated house he's squatting in a deliberate sign of her presence. bloodied bandages fall to the floor, ignored in the process of swapping out to clean dressing. focus on the task at hand, he doesn't acknowledge her other than to broach the silence, voice the low guttering of a candle in a winter's breeze, ❛ you here to shoot me again ? ❜