12226/Nowhere Fast

Nowhere Fast
Date of Scene:	30 July 2022
Location:	Robinson Park - Miagani Island
Synopsis:	Everybody's goin' nowhere slowly, they're only fighting for the chance to be last...
Cast of Characters:	Lonnie Machin, Tim Drake

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Lonnie Machin has posed:
...One of the richest young men in the world is currently in a Target department store. His boyfriend, who thinks money isn't real, is leaning over a shopping cart while said rich young man is evaluating a life-size human skeleton display on his right hand and a big spoopy jack-o-lantern on his left.

Outside, there's a hazy rain falling, and only the neon star sign of a nearby restaurant cuts through the gloom.

"So THIS is really what you wanted to do for your birthday." Lonnie says, adjusting his glasses as he watches Tim. "Browse 'Halloween in August' store sales. You know this is all stuff somebody found in the back, right?" He seems more amused than anything, though. Lonnie's never had much use for holidays, but he does like Halloween. It's an opportunity for mischief, which he approves of on principle.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "The storage room with all of our decorations got taken out in the attack," Tim explains as he tests the points of articulation on the skeleton. Which he apparently finds lacking, judging by the annoyed click of his tongue. So it's just the big spoopy jack-o-lantern that ends up in the cart.

    He hipchecks Lonnie out from behind the cart so that Tim himself can take over steering duties, and then he spares a glare at the nearby Back-To-School section for having the audacity of still being out, rather than the expected Halloween decor. Yeah, Lonnie's right, this is just last year's stuff cleaned out of the backroom, and Tim slumps over the handlebar of the cart with a heavy sigh. "I don't want to explain Senor Bonesalot's death to the team. It'll crush them. I just need to find a similar skeleton so that no one notices the difference."

Lonnie Machin has posed:
Lonnie sighs, and then he watches Tim. He picks up some blood capsules - always handy if you need to fake your death - and throws them into the cart - and then he stands with his arm on a pillar as he continues to observe Tim. "You've got a lot of sentimentality for a plastic skeleton wearing a paper sombrero and a fake moustache."

He snorts. "Well. There IS a Spirit Halloween that's open-" The rest of them won't open until next week - but it's in..." He checks his phone. "...Ohio."

Tim Drake has posed:
    There's not a whole lot of variety on the shelves, so Tim is left eyeing several cheap plastic skeletons in the shape of animals for a few moments, as they're at the end of the aisle and that's all that's left. And knowing Tim, he's eyeing them critically, because that's definitely not what a dog skull looks like.

    The bat skeleton is all wrong, too.

    "Team morale is my biggest concern right now, and if having a skeleton in a sombrero and mustache hanging around keeps that up, I don't really care." No skeletons end up in the cart, but when Tim crouches down to surveil the bottom shelf, he finds several bags of fake spider webs, which he promptly dumps into the cart. Then immediately brushes his hands together, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Those bags must've been in the back for a couple of years, at least. He pushes the cart round the corner and leans over, peering down the way at something in another section. Casually, he asks, "Roadtrip?"

    He's definitely joking.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Lonnie watches Tim, and then he casually leans over the other end of the cart, a small but genuine smile on his face. "You're having so much fun right now." He says, "...I wish I had half your savoir faire, and yet here you are buying fake spider-webs." He straightens up, and says, "Okay. Road trip. Let's go."
    As an afterthought, he puts a creepy bug man mask into the cart. There's a crooked police officer who's been harassing girls on the street who's absolutely *terrified* of bugs, and Lonnie's going to make him take an early retirement. See? Mischief.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim is left surveying the meagre contents of their cart. Just the pumpkin and the spider webs. Well, and also a dinosaur costume for Yap.

    ...And some blue corn tortilla chips. Those don't count, though.

    "I like taking care of my team," Tim says, and it comes out as a question, his tone lifting at the end. He blinks a couple of times, and then shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah. I guess I do. And if that means spending money on decorations because half of them didn't get to have a normal childhood with trick-or-treating and birthdays, then it's the least I can do." He's walking as he talks, and while he is attempting to make it look like it's a casual stroll, he's not exactly trying THAT hard. Because they're at Target at 9PM. Tim doesn't really have any reason to hide that he's headed for the toy section, made all the more obvious when he takes a hard left at the aisle with all the Lego.

    He hops up onto the bottom rail of the cart and gives himself a push, propelling himself down the asile. "For real?" he asks, without looking back. Too busy eyeing up the space shuttle set. "I was mostly just joking, but... uh... I wouldn't exactly be opposed."

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "I know I can come off as something of a curmudgeon." Lonnie says, as he walks next to the cart. "Things people enjoy - I tend to view them as wastes of time. And-" He stops himself. "The thing is, I would give you a line about self-actualization and how members of your team need to take care of themselves instead of depending on you to do it..." He rubs the back of his neck, "You do it because you care. And it's one of my favorite things about you. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the big picture that I don't care as much as I should about people as individuals. But I'm trying."
    He sighs, his face affecting a mock-serious expression. "I've been thinking about something? But we can talk about it in the car. Right now your mind is focused on legos. Don't you already have that set?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim parks the cart and drops down into a crouch, because of course he's the type to look at every single box on every single shelf. "You gave up your life when you were basically still a preteen," he says as he picks up one of the sets and spins the box around to look at the back, brow crinkled with focus. "But here you are now." With one hand he gestures around, likely to indicate the notorious Anarky is currently... well, shopping at a Target at 9PM. With his boyfriend.

    "And none of the team expects me to do it, but they appreciate when I do. They'd keep doing their jobs even if all I did was kept a roof over their heads and food in the kitchen, but that's boring." Though he pauses. "Not that I haven't been accused of being boring," he adds.

    Two sets -- including the space shuttle set -- end up in the cart. "Yeah. But I let Gabby put it together when she was benched, so it's hers now." He doesn't jump back on the cart to propel it through the aisle, but he does get it moving. "Okay. Anything else you need before we check out?" 'Anything else' as if Lonnie's asked for anything so far at Target. At 9PM.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "You're not boring." Lonnie says, "Just cerebral." He shakes his head. "No. I'm good. The sooner we get out of this red-tinted capitalist nightmare, the happier I'll be." He's not a fan of big-box marts, either. Though he does buy a snickers bar, the kind with two pieces in it at the checkout, and he shares half of it with Tim in the parking lot before they load the stuff up into the car.
    Once he's strapped in, he sits and stares out at the headlights. "So. Are we doing this?" He asks, before he lets out a sigh. "Do you remember what I said before, that eventually - what we do would probably come between us, and I just wanted to enjoy it until then?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    To the checkout, then. Tim's aware that Lonnie's tolerance for normal societal bullshit has a limit, even when accounting for his willingness to put up with it for Tim's sake.

    And the price of a candy bar is certainly worth it. They dump all of the cheap plastic Halloween crap in the back of Tim's incredibly expensive million-plus dollar car, and he's halfway through buckling his own seatbelt when Lonnie drops that particular bombshell.

    To Tim's credit, his expression doesn't move, and his movements hitch only slightly before he gets his hands on the steering wheel. As he's backing out of the parking space, he asks, "Yeah?"

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    He waits for Tim to be out on the open road, before he squeezes his eyes shut, and pinches the bridge of his nose. This is plainly difficult for Lonnie. "I've... been thinking about this for awhile. Suppose tomorrow I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams, and every vision I've ever had for a better tomorrow comes to pass, every... armageddon averted, everyone enlightened."
    He looks out the window. "And suppose I had nobody to share that world with. I- if you made me choose, if you forced my hand... I'd pick you, Tim. I don't know what I'd do with myself or what I'd become or how I'd deal with the sheer fucking *frustration* but I know - I know - the person I am *right now*-"
    "I guess what I'm trying to say is-" He pauses. And then he barks out a laugh. "Wow! I'm at a loss for words." He rests his chin in his hand, as he stares out the window into the streetlights.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim's peripheral vision is doing a lot of work at the moment. Eyes on the road, otherwise, which he hopes will give Lonnie the figurative room necessary to compose his thoughts. There are certainly moments where he looks like he wants to speak up, judging by the way his jaw shifts, but he just tightens his grip on the steering wheel and keeps quiet.

    The laugh startles him enough that he jumps a little in his seat. "Well," he starts, uncertain, and as he slows to a stop at a red light, Tim finally looks over. "I'm not asking you to choose, Lonnie. I know it's--unconventional, how we've made this work, but..."

    After a few moments it seems like he himself is at a loss for words. The light turns green, and Tim drives on.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Lonnie looks up, and then he says, "It's funny isn't it? I'm confessing how deep my feelings are and it's just awkward and uncomfortable for us both. Me because I'm literally a bomb-tossing firebrand and you..." He hunkers backward into the seat. "I feel like if I believed in more social conventions there'd be something more *to* this. Can't put my finger on what, though."
    "There's nobody I'd rather drive to Ohio and go to a Spirit Halloween and then drive back to Gotham City with, that's for sure." He gives a little bit of a smile.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Eventually if we keep talking about it, it won't be awkward and uncomfortable," Tim points out, "But neither of us are particularly skilled at... letting down our guard." Though something about that doesn't sit right, and his eyes narrow, mouth twisting into an uncertain frown. Soon enough they're crossing the bridge back to Miagani Island, and home is in sight.

    He hits the button for the garage. The above-ground one, which certainly has a hidden car elevator should it be necessary, but for the time being Tim just parks in his usual spot. "Being emotionally vulnerable," he corrects. Then he reaches for the keys, though he doesn't move to get out of the car immediately. "Let's drive to Ohio and go to Spirit Halloween in the morning. Unless the roadtrip offer was just a coded way of expressing your feelings, which... uh, same."

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Lonnie unclips his seat belt. "...Being emotionally vulnerable." He agrees. "Well. Yes, and it did sound kind of fun." He waits for Tim to get out of the car, and then swings out of the passenger seat, and he walks around and reaches down to take hold of Tim's hand, threading their fingers together. "I am - a lot for people to take. I'm a lot for a lot of your friends to take. And I'm *bad* at apologies."
    "So I'm sort of stumbling around in the dark here. Y'know - making an ass of myself. But I'm doing it out of love, because you're amazing. Is what I'm trying to say."

Tim Drake has posed:
    There's a lockbox on the wall, ostensibly for Tim's car keys, because that's a rich person thing for sure. Too many sets to comfortably keep them all on one key ring. He pauses there, inputing the code with one hand since his other is still linked with Lonnie's. "My friends are a lot for people to take, too. I'm a lot for people to take, when I'm not pretending to be your average, uh, billionaire. Yeah, I know, you don't have to say it."

    He squeezes Lonnie's fingers and flashes a quick smile, though he covers it up right away with a bemused shake of his head. "You're not making an ass of yourself, and I--appreciate how far you're willing to extend yourself to make this whole thing between us work. So... thank you." Awkward still yes, but maybe not so much uncomfortable any more, given the easy way Tim swings their arms back and forth as they head up into the house. As he opens the door he calls out, "Yap! We bought something for you!"