[Maybe it would help, indeed. If nothing else, it would give him something to focus on.
There's a sound from the loft stairs and if Jon turned to look, Nothing was perched on the railing, perfectly balanced and watching the chaos below with....a respirator? covering the lower half of his face to protect him from the lingering fumes. When had he stolen that?
Perhaps more importantly, when had he painted it red?]
The blood adds to the drama. Give it a few more wears before you make a new one.
[His voice, already raspy and broken from the batarang wound, was a hissed nightmare of it's own as it seeped from the respirator's vents.]
I do own most of the Eastend, you know. I got a whole fucking laundry list of people who need a little fear in their daily lives.
[ Hearing a noise, Jon looked back. It was clear it was Jon. If not just from the fact he was texting, but the cigarette hanging from his lips between the stitched mouth of the mask. It was an oddity, but Scarecrow hated Jon smoking. Seeing Nothing there, he decided he needed to make that boy watch the Crow. That was some Eric Draven energy.
Tipping his head some before slipping his phone away into the suit and ashing off to the side. ]
I must say, I had not considered painting one of those. Smart move.
[ At least this burlap was already a faded red, so the blood did add a lot. ]
If you say so. So long as it does not start to smell, I will see how it goes.
[ Making his way over, pulling about four long hat pins free from the wide witch hat to pull the hat and wig off at once. A man could be killed with those hat pins. He has stabbed Jason with one when he was smaller. The GCPD knows to get his hat off before he can even be put in the van. ]
Now that sounds like a very beneficial plan. The fears of the wicked are just so much sweeter. And what will this cost me?
[Jason had no idea who 'Eric Draven' was, but he'd love the movie. It would hit hard and he'd no doubt lash out after it, but he'd love it.
Peering down at the older man, Jason tilted his head to one side, warily watching those pins be set aside before he gripped the railing and let himself drop easily over the edge. He dangled a few seconds before he caught the under rail with his other hand and lowered himself down further. From there, it was a tall, but easy drop down to the main floor and Jason landed it in a soundless crouch before he was standing up and strolling over to snatch up those pins.
Those fuckers hurt and, knowing Jon, the tips had been soaked in Toxin. He'd just be keeping these while they chatted, newly found trust or not.]
Symbiosis, Doc. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. You get test subjects that no one will miss and I get the peace of mind knowing they're off the streets.
[The more he spoke, the harsher his voice hissed and he winced a little as he reached up to lightly rub at the fresh, pink scar. The respirator was doing it's job, though. None of the wisps of airborne Toxin had managed to bypass the filters yet.]
[ he would be seeing it soon enough, Jon would be sure of that. Sometimes Jon was jealous of how easily the young man could jump and toss his weight and not seem to ache after. Dancing aside, Jon had to deal with the aches and pains that came with age and not taking care of himself. ]
Do not lose those, they are antique... And coated in toxin, be careful.
[ So Nothing was right about the Toxin. The hat pins had pearl ends, and were the very same he had stabbed Nothing with in the past. They were none other than Granny's brought from Georgia when he took up the Scarecrow persona. He himself had a few scars from them, but, they are effective. ]
Now, that sounds like a fine working relationship, Nothing.
[ Holding a bony hand out to shake. ]
You have a deal, and do let me know if you need that respirator upgraded, that looks like one of the older models the boys used to use.
[ Nothing had gotten to see the goons sometimes got respirators or jabbed with an immunity shot for jobs. It did him no good if his help got sucked up in the fear. ]
Switching to prose to make our lives a little easier
Oh, he'd feel it eventually. He was too physical of a being to not. His training had left him limber and flexible, but it had also worn through his joints much faster than just everyday wear and tear. A body only had so many beatings in it before it started to click in odd places.
He just hadn't gotten there. Yet.
Snorting softly, he arched a brow at Jon. "I remember, thanks. Why do you think I'm holding onto them?" His trust was still tentative, then. A slow budding thing. Which made sense, considering exactly how Jon had come to have him in his testing warehouse. But for as wary as he was, he only eyed that extended hand for a moment before he stepped forward to take it. He didn't even grind any of those bones together, just gave a small shake before retreating to his self prescribed 'safe' distance.
"It's working fine. I might play with it." It was the closest he'd come to acknowledging that he was here and maybe didn't mind being here. "So, what was the plan with the singer? Was she just convenient or were you trying to see if someone could literally tear out their own vocal cords screaming?"
Thank you, im so used to action but I like prose more.
Nothing was pretty much ready to return to whatever he wanted to do. Jon wouldn't admit he worried, but he does. The boys know as well as he does that Jon isn't actually the cold beast he tries to pretend he is. Still, he knew the boy would go stir-crazy if kept inside too long.
"Smart lad." He chuckled as he said it. "You did learn faster than the others." That trick had only worked once on the second Robin. Oh, he knew who the kid was, you don't forget the face of the child who nearly killed you. Even if the mask now covers a different part of his face.
Once the shake was complete, Jon tugged the burlap tunic over his head to put it back on the waiting mannequin. A simple black T-shirt under it to protect some of his skin, but it did leave his scarred arms visible for now. Grabbing the flannel shirt left on the back of the chair from earlier, tugging it on, ignoring the costume pants for now. "Let me know should that change, I do not think it would be wise to expose you to the toxins." He heard those screams, he paid attention. "She poisoned her costar, one of Simon's girls. So, why not? I do enjoy the screams of the wicked, but even that was a bit much." That was part of why Simon had been moping about of late, one of his favorite off and on again's had been poisoned and found in the river.
He was surprised at the ease in which they shook hands. He knew that Crane had never been one for random touch, a fact that he could tell had continued with his interaction with his men. The rest of them were quick to brush shoulders or clap a hand against a back or knee, but those antics never included Crane. So to feel that surprisingly strong grip unflinching against his own?
A flicker of warmth reared in his chest and he was quick to smother it before it grew to anything substantial.
He scoffed, letting the respirator twist it as he moved over to sprawl in Crane's abandoned chair. If it was from the praise of his adaptation skills or from Crane's no doubt empty promise of keeping him away from the toxin, he wasn't about to share. "She got what she deserved. Petty bitch. I hate it when they're so pretty on the outside but rotten under the skin." 'Like Bruce and Dick...' He kept that last part private, but it was still clear in his tone. "I'll take Simon out for drinks or something. Help take his mind off things.
Hey, what's the halflife of this? I wanna smoke, but I like my eyebrows." Smoking also meant taking off the respirator and the last thing he wanted was to subject himself to that nightmare over a cigarette.
The only time there was touch between Crane and the boys was if Jon got hurt and someone hauled him up to make a quick getaway. Or if one of them was upset or angry and needed to be grounded. A hand on the shoulder, or a quick slap to break a panic. Hell even once Sam talked about being homesick and asked Jon for a hug. He had stared at the youngest a moment before standing and allowing it.
His men, Nothing and the birds? Those were his family, his people. Each one brought together in a strange way. Nothing was part of that now. The difference was, Jonathan was worried about Nothing, he rarely worried about his boys. So the shake was fine by him.
"I am inclined to agree, I know the entertainment industry is rather cut-throat, but Sarah seemed too soft for this city." The dead girl. "I have always found beauty hides a rotten soul. Not always true, but often." Then an amused noise passed. "Some of us just come with a natural warning that we are awful, just from how bad we can look." Years of bullying would never be cured. But, he didn't care too much. "A good idea, if you wish I'll loan you the keys, or give you the money for an uber."
Reaching over Jon kicked on the exhust fan, not that there was much in the air. "About two hours, so it should be pretty much gone. Give it a try There is an antidote shot in the top drawer next to you if you feel any anxiety amplifying." He offered, luckily it was gone enough that Jason would be fine. Taking out his pack he shook two free, holding one of the Reds over to Nothing, along with the zippo he always had, with the initials 'H.P.' engraved. Henry's lighter he stole off the body ages ago. ]
The old truck had that classic rumble to it. Jon had always insisted the body may not look the best, but the engine was strong as ever. A classic three on the tree, waaay to many miles on it, but clearly well-loved.
Scarecrow, beside him on the seat, humming some old 40s tune to himself and popping bubbles occasionally with his gum.
"Mmmm what about the one over in the Bowery. I am told they have the best candy to see." It was a small artesian kind of place, homemade fudge and all. And numerous older candies no longer sold. "Jonny says we have to play, or at home we have to stay." Luckily, Scarecrow does have Jon's wallet. Nothing may have realized by now, but while Jon would happily rip off a corporation, small family businesses he'd always pay. Bookstores usually, but still.
He'd wanted to drive the truck as soon as he'd ridden in it the first time, his fingers twitching to get into the engine and poke around. Matt had let him watch a couple of times and he'd started helping out the older man, but even that couldn't quite ease the need to drive Jon's truck. So as he eased them out into traffic, grin safely hidden under the respirator, he found himself relaxing despite the madman beside him.
Though....Scarecrow hadn't hurt him. Hadn't even threatened to. In fact, he'd promised that Nothing wouldn't ever be hurt by them again. No one had ever promised that. It was a lie, surely...but it was lie he wanted to believe.
"Yeah, we can go see Cunningham. I need to check in, anyway." He had, after all, gotten into a fight with Bats and then blown up. He had no doubt that at least a few people thought he was dead. "Bowery is mine, though. You can have the people I give you, but anyone else and I'll be pissed. Don't worry, there's plenty of garbage to go around, though. We can even grab some tonight, if you want."
That would help with his rumored death. He made the turn that would take them to the candy maker, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to Scarecrow's hummed tune.
Matthew knew how protective Jon was of the old C10. He was one of the few who knew why from a night Jon had been a little too stoned from a lab accident. So, while he was happy to have Nothing's help and even teach him when he needed a little help, he stayed lingering if he let the younger even look under Jon's hood when the old truck was tempermental. It was clear that Matthew trusted Nothing's skills, even letting him help with some more picky peoples cars.
Scarecrow was different from Jon in one glaring way, he didn't care who knew who was under his protection. Nothing may have noticed by now that the boys rarely ever got hurt on jobs, Jonathan might look like he was half dead when they got back, but the boys always got to their homes. Scarecrow and Jonathan refused to lose their minions or anyone under their watch. Nothing was under that watch now.
"Yes, yes! That one, it will be fun! I won't hurt the bird, you have been heard." waving a hand, those long pointy nails looking more befitting of Scarecrow than Jon when he was in his street clothes. "Yes, yes, Jonny told me the deal. The Bowery is yours, so none we are to steal. The wicked you bring may be to kill." The words rolled purposely, pushing the rhymes even when they didn't fit. "Maybe, maybe, we will see, Who knows what is to be."
Cunningham's Confectionary was a small shop that had been passed down in the family since the Great Depression. It had survived purely on grit and ambition alone and it was the first generation that the business had passed from father to daughter instead of father to son. Mostly because the son had gone to war, but she'd still taken the reins and ran a tight ship.
Her granddaughter was made of similar stock and when the overhead bell chimed, Jason grinned into his mask at the sight of the young woman standing behind the counter, her eyes a little wide at her late night customers, but a shotgun still casually laid out in front of her.
"Easy, Mace. He's with me." His voice was still rough from both the neck injury and the gas mask, but it was close enough to his modulated voice that her eyes narrowed for a moment before she huffed softly.
"Word on the street was that the Bat did you in. Glad to see the rumors of your death were exaggerated." She was still watching Scarecrow with wary eyes, but she didn't stop him from exploring her little hard earned shop and it's delightful treasures. Everything was handmade right there behind the big plexiglass window, though the hour meant that the actual candy makers had long gone home.
It was not a place Jonathan would have even gone on his own. His sweet tooth was mostly for sweet tea and simple deserts, Scarecrow lived for candy, though. Something Jonathan was denied as a child; thus Scarecrow must have it. Jonathan would have been impressed by the history of the store, but Scarecrow was more interested in the selection.
"Easy pease-y pumpkin squeasy~ we are here for no harm. Take it easy." The last part singsonged like the Eagles song. As the tall creature moved in that far too graceful way that always felt like he was floating by. The handmade stuff wasn't what caught the specters attention, but their selection of vintage candies.
A little basket had been grabbed up along the way. Candy dots, Charleston chews, Mary Janes, gummy bears and skittles of multiple times. "Nothing!" he hissed out to Jason, tone full of mirth, ignoring Mace for now. "They have cinnamon bears! I love them and no one cares!" The pack snatched up.
It would do to have him seen. So no one was dumb enough to step onto his turf, and so that Sionis kept where he bloody well should. If Crane had known what was going through Nothing's head, he would have thumped him on the back of the head. The boy was as welcome as the rest, if not a little more. He had a soft spot for strays.
"You like him." He finally stated it as he leaned on the workbench, looking down at the sprawling hood. "I dare say I believe he returns that. Just don't let me catch you two in any compromising situations while we are all meant to be working." Jon didn't care if they dated, fucked, or whatever. As long as it didn't affect the work.
Nodding then. "Yes, we can make those detours, all you ever need do is ask, Nothing."
He was considering the idea of having Simon swing by the ally he'd stashed his bike in all those weeks ago when the world had gone to shit. It would be nice to have his own ride again and he was maybe a little eager to get Matt's opinion of a couple of upgrades he wanted to make to the beast...but then Jon oh so casually called him out on his...thing with Sam and he ended up blushing so deep his freckles stood out against the red.
"I...Shut up. Not gunna do anything while we're working..." It was a half mumbled lie (He'd already pinned Sam sweetly up against the workbench, murmuring Italian into his ear until the older boy was a blushing, squirming mess before sending him back to work with a cheeky grin and a slap on the ass), but it was the best he had. He'd never had to deal with someone calling him out on something like that and he...he both hated it and was confused by it.
Because why did Jon care? It wasn't like he was actually a part of this ragtag group, right? He was just the stray they'd taken in to keep him from bleeding out. Hell, Sam probably didn't even like him, just the idea of him. The allure of possibly bedding the myth of the Red Hood.
"Stop being so nice to me. You make it sound like you're going to keep me or some shit."
One bright side with having Simon swing by was Sionis did not want issues with the Roman or Scarecrow. Everyone knew Simon Falcone was one of the Frighteners and in line for the Falcone empire, about 5 people before him, but it meant no one could touch him outside of the family. Simon was happier with the Frighteners, Jon treated him better than his uncle. But that name gets him places no one else in the gang can go.
"That is all I ask." he stated before grinning and pushing himself off the workbench. "And be careful, of course." The boy is damned old enough to not need the birds and bees talk, plus he knows all about Red Hoods protective of sex workers. Jon didn't care if they messed around in the lair as long as it didn't affect a job.
"Who said I didn't intend to keep you?" He asked, not even bothering to hide his accent as he took out a cigarette to light up. Despite yelling at the others for smoking near the toxin. Jon does all the time. "Come on, we have work to do." An unlit cigarette offered back towards the younger as he made his way towards the truck.
The words hit him square in the chest, slamming into the soft bits under his ribs with enough force to make his breath hitch. They were unexpected and caught him be complete surprise, pale blue eyes widening a little as he processed them.
He'd never asked how long Jon had planned on keeping him there. Not the man himself, not his team, not even Sam in the darkness of their whirlwind fling. He'd been scared to. Scared to put a hard limit on the little bit of normalcy he'd found. Scared to hear that he would be set back out with a pat on the head and clean bill of health, like a mutt someone nursed back to health but couldn't actually keep.
Because no one kept him. That was the one constant, the one common denominator that ranged over all the different homes he'd sheltered in. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. It made no sense and he had no use for the ex-professor turned conman.
The realization sat bitter in his stomach, but his fingers didn't shake as he reached out to take that offered cigarette. He could live with bitter. Especially if the genteel southern man wasn't going to stop him from finding his comfort where he could.
"Stop talkin' shit, we got places to be." He tucked the smoke behind his ear and grabbed his mask off the table as he followed Jon outside. Simon's Mustang was still ticking in the driveway and Nothing grinned as he reached out to take the offered shake from Sam's hands, transferring the drink to his other hand before looping his arm loosely around the Italian man's waist.
If Jon knew, he was at least going to enjoy his time while he had it.
The whole outing was a literal blast. Jon hadn't laughed that hard in awhile, even Sam had let a few English words slip. Simon knew he could speak some English as well as Jon did, no one admits it to Stanley and Matt though.
Working on his 3rd cigarette in the last few hours, he finally whistled. Calling out in italian for the tree. "Sam, your classes start in an hour, say goodbye. Simon, we have a few places to go with Nothing."
Sam whispered something in Nothings ear while Simon ordered the youngest an uber to GSU. Jon was very much involved in Sam's education, his grades and reminding him to study, as tech was not his forte. So school nights? He was like any overbearing parent. "Come on, Nothing, lets go get your toys."
I heard you. [ Nothing hadn't earned himself a nickname outside of Nothing yet. Jon had little things he called everyone, but Nothing was just that, or child if he was tired.
He was tired now but didn't say it. Laying still as the boy patched him up. ] He demanded to know where I was keeping you... Harleen and Isley stopped him from doing worse.
[ Jon hated the Bat for how he treated the boy, but now that the Bat knew he was involved, he expected things to have to tighten up to keep Batman out of their current home. ] I told him to kiss my ass. [ Of course he did. Nothing was his now, he would fight for him, ] So, I guess that earns a few hours of the Mistress of the Dark.
[His hands stilled a little at those words. The reason for Jon's beat down wasn't just because of the usual reasons, but...because of him? Bruce was looking for him. He'd gotten wind that Red Hood had changed up his look and was running with the Frighteners now. He'd- The thought was a mixed bag and Nothing swallowed hard around the sudden lump that had formed in his throat.
Just under that fresh, pink scar that was still tight and itchy and only barely healed over.
The last steri-strip was pressed down almost gently and when the teenager sat back to make sure the stick was stuck, his hand rested quietly on Jon's arm.]
I-uh..yeah. Yeah, that earns you a few hours of your Mistress, old man. [If his voice was a little harsher than usual, then surely Jon would give him the benefit of pretending it wasn't.]
Come on, I'm not sitting on the couch with you in costume. The hat at least has to come off before you stab someone with those damned pins. You work on getting it off, I'll grab you some sweats and a t-shirt.
[While he looked through drawers, he sent a quick text to the man waiting for him downstairs to have him put in the DVD and make an extra batch of popcorn. Just a little bit of caramel drizzle. To satisfy both halves of the man who'd taken him in so readily.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
From Memes
Cautious Interest
[Maybe it would help, indeed. If nothing else, it would give him something to focus on.
There's a sound from the loft stairs and if Jon turned to look, Nothing was perched on the railing, perfectly balanced and watching the chaos below with....a respirator? covering the lower half of his face to protect him from the lingering fumes. When had he stolen that?
Perhaps more importantly, when had he painted it red?]
The blood adds to the drama. Give it a few more wears before you make a new one.
[His voice, already raspy and broken from the batarang wound, was a hissed nightmare of it's own as it seeped from the respirator's vents.]
I do own most of the Eastend, you know. I got a whole fucking laundry list of people who need a little fear in their daily lives.
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Tipping his head some before slipping his phone away into the suit and ashing off to the side. ]
I must say, I had not considered painting one of those. Smart move.
[ At least this burlap was already a faded red, so the blood did add a lot. ]
If you say so. So long as it does not start to smell, I will see how it goes.
[ Making his way over, pulling about four long hat pins free from the wide witch hat to pull the hat and wig off at once. A man could be killed with those hat pins. He has stabbed Jason with one when he was smaller. The GCPD knows to get his hat off before he can even be put in the van. ]
Now that sounds like a very beneficial plan. The fears of the wicked are just so much sweeter. And what will this cost me?
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Peering down at the older man, Jason tilted his head to one side, warily watching those pins be set aside before he gripped the railing and let himself drop easily over the edge. He dangled a few seconds before he caught the under rail with his other hand and lowered himself down further. From there, it was a tall, but easy drop down to the main floor and Jason landed it in a soundless crouch before he was standing up and strolling over to snatch up those pins.
Those fuckers hurt and, knowing Jon, the tips had been soaked in Toxin. He'd just be keeping these while they chatted, newly found trust or not.]
Symbiosis, Doc. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. You get test subjects that no one will miss and I get the peace of mind knowing they're off the streets.
[The more he spoke, the harsher his voice hissed and he winced a little as he reached up to lightly rub at the fresh, pink scar. The respirator was doing it's job, though. None of the wisps of airborne Toxin had managed to bypass the filters yet.]
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Do not lose those, they are antique... And coated in toxin, be careful.
[ So Nothing was right about the Toxin. The hat pins had pearl ends, and were the very same he had stabbed Nothing with in the past. They were none other than Granny's brought from Georgia when he took up the Scarecrow persona. He himself had a few scars from them, but, they are effective. ]
Now, that sounds like a fine working relationship, Nothing.
[ Holding a bony hand out to shake. ]
You have a deal, and do let me know if you need that respirator upgraded, that looks like one of the older models the boys used to use.
[ Nothing had gotten to see the goons sometimes got respirators or jabbed with an immunity shot for jobs. It did him no good if his help got sucked up in the fear. ]
Switching to prose to make our lives a little easier
He just hadn't gotten there. Yet.
Snorting softly, he arched a brow at Jon. "I remember, thanks. Why do you think I'm holding onto them?" His trust was still tentative, then. A slow budding thing. Which made sense, considering exactly how Jon had come to have him in his testing warehouse. But for as wary as he was, he only eyed that extended hand for a moment before he stepped forward to take it. He didn't even grind any of those bones together, just gave a small shake before retreating to his self prescribed 'safe' distance.
"It's working fine. I might play with it." It was the closest he'd come to acknowledging that he was here and maybe didn't mind being here. "So, what was the plan with the singer? Was she just convenient or were you trying to see if someone could literally tear out their own vocal cords screaming?"
Thank you, im so used to action but I like prose more.
"Smart lad." He chuckled as he said it. "You did learn faster than the others." That trick had only worked once on the second Robin. Oh, he knew who the kid was, you don't forget the face of the child who nearly killed you. Even if the mask now covers a different part of his face.
Once the shake was complete, Jon tugged the burlap tunic over his head to put it back on the waiting mannequin. A simple black T-shirt under it to protect some of his skin, but it did leave his scarred arms visible for now. Grabbing the flannel shirt left on the back of the chair from earlier, tugging it on, ignoring the costume pants for now. "Let me know should that change, I do not think it would be wise to expose you to the toxins." He heard those screams, he paid attention. "She poisoned her costar, one of Simon's girls. So, why not? I do enjoy the screams of the wicked, but even that was a bit much." That was part of why Simon had been moping about of late, one of his favorite off and on again's had been poisoned and found in the river.
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A flicker of warmth reared in his chest and he was quick to smother it before it grew to anything substantial.
He scoffed, letting the respirator twist it as he moved over to sprawl in Crane's abandoned chair. If it was from the praise of his adaptation skills or from Crane's no doubt empty promise of keeping him away from the toxin, he wasn't about to share. "She got what she deserved. Petty bitch. I hate it when they're so pretty on the outside but rotten under the skin." 'Like Bruce and Dick...' He kept that last part private, but it was still clear in his tone. "I'll take Simon out for drinks or something. Help take his mind off things.
Hey, what's the halflife of this? I wanna smoke, but I like my eyebrows." Smoking also meant taking off the respirator and the last thing he wanted was to subject himself to that nightmare over a cigarette.
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His men, Nothing and the birds? Those were his family, his people. Each one brought together in a strange way. Nothing was part of that now. The difference was, Jonathan was worried about Nothing, he rarely worried about his boys. So the shake was fine by him.
"I am inclined to agree, I know the entertainment industry is rather cut-throat, but Sarah seemed too soft for this city." The dead girl. "I have always found beauty hides a rotten soul. Not always true, but often." Then an amused noise passed. "Some of us just come with a natural warning that we are awful, just from how bad we can look." Years of bullying would never be cured. But, he didn't care too much. "A good idea, if you wish I'll loan you the keys, or give you the money for an uber."
Reaching over Jon kicked on the exhust fan, not that there was much in the air. "About two hours, so it should be pretty much gone. Give it a try There is an antidote shot in the top drawer next to you if you feel any anxiety amplifying." He offered, luckily it was gone enough that Jason would be fine. Taking out his pack he shook two free, holding one of the Reds over to Nothing, along with the zippo he always had, with the initials 'H.P.' engraved. Henry's lighter he stole off the body ages ago. ]
Playdate with Scarecrow
The old truck had that classic rumble to it. Jon had always insisted the body may not look the best, but the engine was strong as ever. A classic three on the tree, waaay to many miles on it, but clearly well-loved.
Scarecrow, beside him on the seat, humming some old 40s tune to himself and popping bubbles occasionally with his gum.
"Mmmm what about the one over in the Bowery. I am told they have the best candy to see." It was a small artesian kind of place, homemade fudge and all. And numerous older candies no longer sold. "Jonny says we have to play, or at home we have to stay." Luckily, Scarecrow does have Jon's wallet. Nothing may have realized by now, but while Jon would happily rip off a corporation, small family businesses he'd always pay. Bookstores usually, but still.
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Though....Scarecrow hadn't hurt him. Hadn't even threatened to. In fact, he'd promised that Nothing wouldn't ever be hurt by them again. No one had ever promised that. It was a lie, surely...but it was lie he wanted to believe.
"Yeah, we can go see Cunningham. I need to check in, anyway." He had, after all, gotten into a fight with Bats and then blown up. He had no doubt that at least a few people thought he was dead. "Bowery is mine, though. You can have the people I give you, but anyone else and I'll be pissed. Don't worry, there's plenty of garbage to go around, though. We can even grab some tonight, if you want."
That would help with his rumored death. He made the turn that would take them to the candy maker, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to Scarecrow's hummed tune.
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Scarecrow was different from Jon in one glaring way, he didn't care who knew who was under his protection. Nothing may have noticed by now that the boys rarely ever got hurt on jobs, Jonathan might look like he was half dead when they got back, but the boys always got to their homes. Scarecrow and Jonathan refused to lose their minions or anyone under their watch. Nothing was under that watch now.
"Yes, yes! That one, it will be fun! I won't hurt the bird, you have been heard." waving a hand, those long pointy nails looking more befitting of Scarecrow than Jon when he was in his street clothes. "Yes, yes, Jonny told me the deal. The Bowery is yours, so none we are to steal. The wicked you bring may be to kill." The words rolled purposely, pushing the rhymes even when they didn't fit. "Maybe, maybe, we will see, Who knows what is to be."
Scarecrow went back to humming Its been a long long time by Kitty Kallen.
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Her granddaughter was made of similar stock and when the overhead bell chimed, Jason grinned into his mask at the sight of the young woman standing behind the counter, her eyes a little wide at her late night customers, but a shotgun still casually laid out in front of her.
"Easy, Mace. He's with me." His voice was still rough from both the neck injury and the gas mask, but it was close enough to his modulated voice that her eyes narrowed for a moment before she huffed softly.
"Word on the street was that the Bat did you in. Glad to see the rumors of your death were exaggerated." She was still watching Scarecrow with wary eyes, but she didn't stop him from exploring her little hard earned shop and it's delightful treasures. Everything was handmade right there behind the big plexiglass window, though the hour meant that the actual candy makers had long gone home.
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"Easy pease-y pumpkin squeasy~ we are here for no harm. Take it easy." The last part singsonged like the Eagles song. As the tall creature moved in that far too graceful way that always felt like he was floating by. The handmade stuff wasn't what caught the specters attention, but their selection of vintage candies.
A little basket had been grabbed up along the way. Candy dots, Charleston chews, Mary Janes, gummy bears and skittles of multiple times. "Nothing!" he hissed out to Jason, tone full of mirth, ignoring Mace for now. "They have cinnamon bears! I love them and no one cares!" The pack snatched up.
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It would do to have him seen. So no one was dumb enough to step onto his turf, and so that Sionis kept where he bloody well should. If Crane had known what was going through Nothing's head, he would have thumped him on the back of the head. The boy was as welcome as the rest, if not a little more. He had a soft spot for strays.
"You like him." He finally stated it as he leaned on the workbench, looking down at the sprawling hood. "I dare say I believe he returns that. Just don't let me catch you two in any compromising situations while we are all meant to be working." Jon didn't care if they dated, fucked, or whatever. As long as it didn't affect the work.
Nodding then. "Yes, we can make those detours, all you ever need do is ask, Nothing."
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"I...Shut up. Not gunna do anything while we're working..." It was a half mumbled lie (He'd already pinned Sam sweetly up against the workbench, murmuring Italian into his ear until the older boy was a blushing, squirming mess before sending him back to work with a cheeky grin and a slap on the ass), but it was the best he had. He'd never had to deal with someone calling him out on something like that and he...he both hated it and was confused by it.
Because why did Jon care? It wasn't like he was actually a part of this ragtag group, right? He was just the stray they'd taken in to keep him from bleeding out. Hell, Sam probably didn't even like him, just the idea of him. The allure of possibly bedding the myth of the Red Hood.
"Stop being so nice to me. You make it sound like you're going to keep me or some shit."
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"That is all I ask." he stated before grinning and pushing himself off the workbench. "And be careful, of course." The boy is damned old enough to not need the birds and bees talk, plus he knows all about Red Hoods protective of sex workers. Jon didn't care if they messed around in the lair as long as it didn't affect a job.
"Who said I didn't intend to keep you?" He asked, not even bothering to hide his accent as he took out a cigarette to light up. Despite yelling at the others for smoking near the toxin. Jon does all the time. "Come on, we have work to do." An unlit cigarette offered back towards the younger as he made his way towards the truck.
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The words hit him square in the chest, slamming into the soft bits under his ribs with enough force to make his breath hitch. They were unexpected and caught him be complete surprise, pale blue eyes widening a little as he processed them.
He'd never asked how long Jon had planned on keeping him there. Not the man himself, not his team, not even Sam in the darkness of their whirlwind fling. He'd been scared to. Scared to put a hard limit on the little bit of normalcy he'd found. Scared to hear that he would be set back out with a pat on the head and clean bill of health, like a mutt someone nursed back to health but couldn't actually keep.
Because no one kept him. That was the one constant, the one common denominator that ranged over all the different homes he'd sheltered in. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. It made no sense and he had no use for the ex-professor turned conman.
The realization sat bitter in his stomach, but his fingers didn't shake as he reached out to take that offered cigarette. He could live with bitter. Especially if the genteel southern man wasn't going to stop him from finding his comfort where he could.
"Stop talkin' shit, we got places to be." He tucked the smoke behind his ear and grabbed his mask off the table as he followed Jon outside. Simon's Mustang was still ticking in the driveway and Nothing grinned as he reached out to take the offered shake from Sam's hands, transferring the drink to his other hand before looping his arm loosely around the Italian man's waist.
If Jon knew, he was at least going to enjoy his time while he had it.
"Load up, let's go blow some shit up!"
/wrap up
Working on his 3rd cigarette in the last few hours, he finally whistled. Calling out in italian for the tree. "Sam, your classes start in an hour, say goodbye. Simon, we have a few places to go with Nothing."
Sam whispered something in Nothings ear while Simon ordered the youngest an uber to GSU. Jon was very much involved in Sam's education, his grades and reminding him to study, as tech was not his forte. So school nights? He was like any overbearing parent. "Come on, Nothing, lets go get your toys."
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I heard you. [ Nothing hadn't earned himself a nickname outside of Nothing yet. Jon had little things he called everyone, but Nothing was just that, or child if he was tired.
He was tired now but didn't say it. Laying still as the boy patched him up. ] He demanded to know where I was keeping you... Harleen and Isley stopped him from doing worse.
[ Jon hated the Bat for how he treated the boy, but now that the Bat knew he was involved, he expected things to have to tighten up to keep Batman out of their current home. ] I told him to kiss my ass. [ Of course he did. Nothing was his now, he would fight for him, ] So, I guess that earns a few hours of the Mistress of the Dark.
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Just under that fresh, pink scar that was still tight and itchy and only barely healed over.
The last steri-strip was pressed down almost gently and when the teenager sat back to make sure the stick was stuck, his hand rested quietly on Jon's arm.]
I-uh..yeah. Yeah, that earns you a few hours of your Mistress, old man. [If his voice was a little harsher than usual, then surely Jon would give him the benefit of pretending it wasn't.]
Come on, I'm not sitting on the couch with you in costume. The hat at least has to come off before you stab someone with those damned pins. You work on getting it off, I'll grab you some sweats and a t-shirt.
[While he looked through drawers, he sent a quick text to the man waiting for him downstairs to have him put in the DVD and make an extra batch of popcorn. Just a little bit of caramel drizzle. To satisfy both halves of the man who'd taken him in so readily.]