Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2016 9:33:50 GMT -5
It was raining again and all of a sudden a hat wasn't just a snazzy article of clothing but a shield against the torment of the skies. Well maybe not the one that the Question wore; one of many of the same blue hue that he had stored in his cramped wardrobe in his grimy little hovel of a bachelor pad. Batman never releases an Autumn collection and the Question's appearance must be consistent for the sake that of all the variables out of the reach of his hands, what he wore was entirely down to him so he thought to himself that he might as well fight crime in a sharp manner. A cheap suit for a cheap guy, sewn together with cheap thread by cheaply paid hands and finished off with an equally cheap navy tie and darkly toned orange shirt. It wasn't quite a flowing cape and scarlet boots but this poorly crafted off the hangar purchase was his suit of armour as much as his expressionless mask was his helmet for it gave him a sense of security. As he judged if you're going to bite it then the brand of your brogues hardly mean a thing.
Anyway back to the rain - that thick downpour from Heaven's very own garden sprinkler no doubt, had seemed to cover Gotham ever since he got here off the train from Hub City. It either rained or it snowed or poisonous spores clogged the air or pieces of flaming shrapnel seemed to be falling left right or centre. And when it rained it poured. Peering up into the grey avoid above, the thin sheet of skin like latex across his face all that protected him from the elements, the Question sighed and knew that if the Government did in fact use Project HAARP for influencing weather patterns then they must despise the Gotham demographic. If he had lips to drink from he'd have brought a warm broth in a flask but alas anonymity over a warm stew any day. From the alleyway where he stood, one bent leg pushed backwards onto a graffiti stained wall so that he could lean for a bit, Vic Sage better known by the legions of doom and online conspiracy rooms as the Question watched the home of Nina Stenet closely. As he hummed some catchy jingle that he heard on the radio over to her house, he waited for his opportunity to approach.
With a flick of his wrist he peered down into a water stained digital wrist watch, examining the time before returning back to his vigilant watch. For the past week she had been getting home from Gotham City's Lexcorp outlet at 7:30, though his working career in journalism only really lasts from 22:00 to 23:00, every Tuesday, Friday and Sunday night. So as long as he turns up with a story worth airing or a guest worth interrogating at 21:59 he'll work for another week and repeat. So this leaves him with copious amounts of time for daylight snooping between the warm embrace of two back alley dumpsters. Since the last time he had dropped by her security system had been upgraded for some reason and though he could likely find some way in it would be easier for them to speak if he approached her in the open which he wasn't too happy about. Still when an innocent such as the good Doctor finds herself rolled up in the arms of an agent of the powers that be; Alexander Luthor himself well then the Question can't help but have one or two quick questions. As soon as he finished mentally muttering to himself the sound of an approaching engine cut through the downpour, a German manufactured engine and so he moved closer with the hope that the vehicle would be her's.