Gwen, Jack, it'll be just the two of you at the New Brew for the next few days.  I'm trying the next stage of my physical therapy, and it's probably going to leave me too tired to be up during the afternoon, even wired on espresso.

On the plus side, after that I should be up for good.

In celebration of getting off crutches and braces, I'm going to go dancing, just as soon as I feel up to it.  Anyone want to come with me?

[Locked to Vigilance]

 Effective immediately I'm resuming my patrol routes.  Batgirl, Supergirl, I'm sure neither of you would admit needing or wanting time off, but at least with me carrying my own weight you should be able to call it a night by 2 or 3 AM instead of 4 or 6.  I'll be taking it easy at first, but I've been up on the rooftops on my own time a couple different times now, and it's been working pretty well.

For anyone who didn't get a message, Dick Grayson's been released.

In other news, apparently taking a double courseload, working full time, and picking up video-editing as a hobby is a little too much for me; if I don't do something soon I'll be clocking a B average after midterms.  Which, if you've forgotten, are happening this week.  Anyway, I'd like to remind everyone that the New Brew is hiring.  Apart from interviews, I'll be taking the week off.

Kazu-san, I realize you haven't seen that much of me apart from the day I moved in.  We should make time to get to know one another soon.

You never know how much longer we'll be here.

Is there a reason why everyone is distraught over the presence of a carnival or are you fools truly that pathetic?

Who: Tim Drake & Cass Cain, possibly Tim Drake and... whoever else wants to tag into this? Plurk me and we'll plot.
What: Batkids have unfair advantages at a carnival, but maybe not a haunted one.
When: The evening of October 11th.


Carnivals weren't always Tim's idea of a good time, but the spike in government activity before this one appeared meant it was probably significant, in one way or another, and he wasn't likely to find out why by sitting back on the sidelines.  He was halfway through a text message to Dick before he realized what he was doing and erased it.

No, he wasn't going to bring Dick into this without knowing how he felt about it first.  Poking around someplace like this could be fun for his brother... or it could be like poking an open wound.  If he saw Dick there, he'd bring him in, but in the meantime he needed to bring someone else in for his exploration.

Looking downhill at the fairgrounds, he snapped a picture and sent it as a picture message to Cass, along with a subject line: Meet me in 15?

 Explaining that I'm pretty sure my wheelchair is at the bottom of the bay went over great at the hospital.  Sorry if anyone was worried that I'd vanished, but there's not a lot of call for a coffee-shop in a pirate cove.  I decided it was best just to hide out until things went back to normal yesterday, and after that I got kind of caught up in editing my next video.  It should be ready soon.

Still, it'll be good to get back into the regular routine, even if that means coping with my usual Monday class-load tomorrow after so long on 'vacation' in centuries past.

Who: Tim Drake and Cass Cain
What: Hanging out in the hot hotness
When: Sunday
Where: The guan

( You and me, always between the lines )

Uh... Hello?

[There's a young girl aiming her phone... well, relatively at herself. Her face is in frame, that's what counts.]

My name's Cassandra. I guess... this is home, now. Which is weird, but I guess... fake people need homes, too? So... Hi.

[A pause, like she isn't quite sure she wants to ask this next question, but then she just goes for it.]

If there's anyone... named Barbara, here? Barbara Gordon? Or, uh... Bruce Wayne? Would really... like to talk.

[Because it's kind of weird being somewhere new with no mission and no Barbara or Bruce telling her what the next step is. A quick smile, and then the video dips as she goes to turn it off. Is that an outline of a bat on her chest? Surely not...]

I know it's hard but try to control your jealousy

I just got a job offer. Well, sort of.

Something in... our line of work. I'm taking it -- if for no better reason than to get in on the ground floor in case things go bad -- but they're looking for more people as well. A sort of... covert vigilante group to take care of the things police and local government won't. I don't know if you're interested or not, and I'm not going to mention you to them, but I thought you should both know. If you want to do a little networking, I'm sure you could sign on too. They're a little short on manpower just now.

someone followed me home.

All right.  We made good time getting those boats launched, everyone.  Good job.

Not done quiet yet, though.  We're not going to lose a single person tonight.

Rescue crews will be mobilizing already, so let's make this nice and easy for them.   Everyone who's still on the Medusa, sound off.  State your current location, what you're doing, any injuries, and anything important you can see about what's happening with the boat.

I'm on the aft deck right now.  Ship's electronics are going out, but I think I can keep the intercom running as long as we're above water.  Since we don't have any red-headed tech whizzes on board that I know of, I'll be co-ordinating and keeping us networked.

I mean it, give it back!!

ACTION LOG:  Tim & Cass hang out. (semi-closed log, ask if you'd like to jump in).
WHERE:  The city at night.  Possibly rooftops, because Batkids are unoriginal in their hang-out locations.
WHEN: Night-time (post dark hour).

Usually, Tim tries to sneak up on Cass.  It's a pride thing.  She's faster than he is, stronger, could outfight him in her sleep... in stealth, at least, he can still be competitive.

Mostly, he still loses.  Which is okay.  It's training, after all, and it's fun.  But sneaking up on a first-story apartment offers no real challenge in terms of approach... and given that he doesn't want to scare the daylights out of her young roommate, it just seems unsportsmanlike to play that game, here and now.

Still, knocking on the front door just feels wrong.  He looks around the empty hallway, shrugs, and does it anyway.

What's this?