jamesgcrdon

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim barely stifled a sigh, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was no way this wasn’t going to turn into something -- no way this wasn’t already something, even if he had no idea what. He really didn’t want to know. Whether or not he’d actually be spared that knowledge was a different thing entirely. He smiled politely as she spoke. Yeah, I bet he did, he thought, although he didn’t let the words pass his lips. He didn’t want to alert her to the fact that there was something decidedly off about this situation. 

His heart sank when she confirmed that she worked in a library, although he smiled back at her when she beamed. How the hell did this happen? And how long before Ed decided to do something about it? More importantly -- what would he do, and who would suffer the consequences? “Oh, thanks,” he said, managing a genuine chuckle. He’d expected her to give him a little bit of a lecture. “Still, I’ll try to be better about getting them back on time.” It was such an inane conversation, but it made him feel a little more grounded. 

“Yeah, yeah, back in the day,” he agreed. He paused. There weren’t many things he could truthfully say about Ed Nygma that wouldn’t offend someone who clearly cared about him. But then, Jim had been one of those people. He’d genuinely liked Ed, back when he was the eccentric, eager forensic scientist on the force. “He’s an incredibly smart guy,” he said. “I think that intimidated a lot of people back then.” It had annoyed them, to be more precise, but he thought that intimidation was really at the root of it.

"Yes, but that was years ago now," Isabella replied, partly to remind herself. She knew two years had passed since her accident -- things were just different enough for her to remember that -- but it was still difficult to believe. "When we first met, he told me I reminded him of someone he used to know," she continued, in a fond tone.

Jim shook her hand, and Isabella beamed when he asked if she worked in the library. "Yes, I do," she said. "That must be where we know each other from, but please don't worry about your fees. If you're out fighting crime, it's understandable you don't get your library books back on time." She laughed a little, to show she was only half joking. She took her job very seriously, but she was sure they could forgive a few dollars for a cop.

"I believe you used to work with my --" she cut herself off. She had just called Edward her boyfriend, though they hadn't had that conversation yet. He had given her flowers and taken her out to dinner, but it had seemed juvenile to ask if they were going to start seeing each other again, especially given how shocked he'd been to see her in the first place. So, she decided to simply call him what she thought he was, what he seemed happy to be. "-- partner," she finished. "Edward?" She thought it was best not to mention the fact that Ed had regaled her with stories of the G.C.P.D.'s incompetence from their very first date.

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim’s head was throbbing, and he felt like his mouth had been stuffed with cotton. His eyelids each weighed approximately a ton. It took him a few minutes to manage prying them open, and as he did, he heard a familiar voice addressing him. Ed’s words acted like a splash of cold water on his face, drawing him further out of his stupor. Which, to be honest, he wouldn’t have minded staying in for a bit longer. His head was still fuzzy, but not so much that he could coast through this. He wasn’t too worried -- really, he was just annoyed -- but he much rather would have been at home, eating a TV dinner and nursing a beer. “What do you want, Ed?” he asked, his voice even rougher than usual. 

“Right,” he said flatly. He just looked at him, evidently not impressed. He didn’t really care how creative Ed’s traps were, but he knew Ed did. “Oh, yeah, well, necessity is the mother of invention,” he responded. “Besides, you know, you have to save your best work for the Batman. I get it.” He sighed. “So, are we gonna…?” He attempted to make a get on with it sort of gesture with his hands, only for the restraints to tighten.

@jamesgcrdon

"Good morning, sleepy head!" The Riddler told him as he noticed Jim finally begin to stir. He had the detective restrained to a medical table by his wrists and ankles. "Oh! I wouldn't move too much, Jimbo. The restraints are designed to tighten the more you squirm. Which would make it significantly harder to get out of my trap." He said, lifting his hands up as he spoke and grinning at him. It wasn't difficult to nab Jim from the cop bar he went to. The GCPD would have been significantly more difficult but the bar only required a well placed goon and a spiked drink. Which he was likely still feeling now.

"You're going to be groggy for a bit but do try to answer my riddles the best you can, hmn? If you get all three wrong... I'll be using your own gun to put you out of your misery. Not very creative, I know. But I'm on a time crunch."

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim just raised an eyebrow, waiting for Oswald’s little pantomime to be over. He knew Oswald well enough to be perfectly aware that his hurt feelings were just an act -- when the Penguin was actually upset, it wasn’t nearly so subtle as a melodramatic pose. Despite all the help Oswald had given him over the years, Jim knew that full well. And it was because of such experience that he knew -- more than full well, overflowing well -- that help from Oswald Cobblepott never came without an assortment of strings. 

A quiet huff left his lips as Oswald called them partners. “Partners are usually on equal footing,” he pointed out dryly. “And you have a thing for one-upping as many people around you as possible.” How many times had he been one of those people? Probably more than he was comfortable admitting. He knew there were god knows how many cops, including his actual partner Harvey, who didn’t see anything wrong with reaching across the proverbial line. Jim still viewed it as a necessary evil, one that would always gather in the pit of his stomach like bile. Carmine Falcone seemed to think that a give and take between the police and the mob bosses was not only inevitable, but natural, like the push and pull of the tide. Jim wanted to believe that wasn’t true, but it was getting harder. 

He listened to Oswald’s speech, his expression stony. There wasn’t any other option when it came down to bringing down the nuisance Oswald had mentioned. It was a matter of public safety, a big one, and if he could put a stop to it, he would. “So those are my choices, huh?” he said dryly, glancing over at Oswald. “Letting a criminal go free, or watching the city descend into chaos?” Further into chaos, he should say.

“ your lack of faith in me is both saddening, and wounding. ”  oswald presses his lips together in a thin line, bringing a hand up to rest against his chest — the image of pained offence, like a shot straight to the heart. still, he cannot deny that with every arrangement comes something for him. it’s simply the way he operates: something in return a given, if his efforts are to be exerted. 

a smile breaks out, shoulders raising to ears as he gives in.  “ alright. i can’t lie to you, jim! — after all, what good is a partner if dishonest? ”   partner — as though they were such a thing.  their exchange of favours could barely be considered a partnership; well . . . to anyone else but oswald.   “ this will ensure loyalty to me down the line.  your bringing down of this . . . ”   to use their name would give them power.   “ nuisance . . . will spark an unrest. we all know the power held in vigilante power. the public, though faithful in official power, will sway to unrest. ”   he chuckles, though he doesn’t find it funny.   “ the drama of it all!  anyhow — those who scatter look to a source of leadership. that will be me. ”  

he fiddles with his hands as they rest upon the table, nervous for the rejection that is likely to come. but he has a point, does he not?  order is better than disorder, power in his hands is better than anarchy.   “ have faith in me, jim. i am a leader, and you’ve seen it. yes, i may also dabble in gotham’s corrupt — but i lead them, too.  we both know that. ”  

[jamesgcrdon]

“Oh, yeah?” Jim said, smiling politely, though a feeling of dread was already starting to grow in the pit of his stomach. He definitely didn’t like this -- it wouldn’t be the first time in Gotham that someone had shaken off death like it was nothing more than a bad bout of the flu. Jerome Valeska, Fish Mooney, people like that were bad enough, but if this woman was who he thought she was…the fact that there were two options didn’t help. He couldn’t even really eliminate one over the other. Kristen Kringle had been…well, not in an ideal condition to be brought back to life, but Isabella had been hit by a train. Not a prime candidate for reanimation, either. 

Automatically, when he held out her hand for a shake, he reached out and grasped it. He half-expected her skin to be clammy, but it wasn’t. He felt his heart sink when she introduced herself. A part of him wanted to believe that it was a coincidence, but he knew there wasn’t any such thing in Gotham. And this would have been a dangerous coincidence, anyway. Not only was there Ed to contend with, but all the people who knew about his history and would use it against him in the blink of an eye. Oswald, for instance. 

He forced himself to smile again. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Jim tucked his hands back into his pockets. “You don’t happen to work at the library, do you?” he said. After Isabella Flynn had shown up in their morgue, Jim had looked into her. Just a little. The resemblance to poor Kristen had thrown him then, too. “Maybe that’s why you look so familiar.” He offered a sheepish smile. “I don’t really have as much time to read as I’d like, so I probably have a few late fees racked up.”

Isabella blinked at the man, and for a moment felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu. It was ridiculous, since she had never met him before in her life, but it made her stomach feel odd -- fluttery and a little queasy -- and she had the inexplicable urge to stand up and hug him. It made no sense at all, and she hoped her surprise didn't show on her face, and she looked only politely curious.

The man apologised, and introduced himself as Jim Gordon, and the sensation vanished. Of course. She must have recognised him from the television. He was a detective, wasn't he? She remembered Edward mentioning him. She smiled. "Do you know, you're not the first person to say that to me," she said with a laugh. "My boyfriend said exactly the same thing, when we met."

It felt odd to be sitting while he stood, so she stood up and held her hand out for him to shake. "Isabella Flynn," she said. "It's nice to meet you, Jim."

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim couldn’t help but smile a little as Jeremiah spoke. “That’s true,” he said wryly. He couldn’t imagine what other cities thought of the headlines in the Gotham Gazette. Outside of the city, it probably had the reputation as a joke newspaper, no better than the National Enquirer with its stories about Bigfoot and Elvis sightings. You could say a lot of things against the Gotham rogues, but you definitely couldn’t deny they had a certain flair. It just so happened that they seemed drawn to Jim like moths to a porchlight. There were definitely times when he would much rather they gravitate toward someone else.

His eyebrows drew together as he watched Jeremiah’s expression change. He knew the younger man had suffered at the hands of his brother, and he hadn’t been able to protect him. He really hadn’t been able to protect anyone from Jerome, unfortunately. Including Jerome from himself. It was sad, when you thought about it. The boy hadn’t really had a chance to be anything except a monster. But no one was born like that, were they? He had to believe hope itself was inherent in the human condition, or there just wasn’t a point to his job. Or anything, for that matter. But all he said to Jeremiah was, “Maybe you’re right”, with a tight little smile. “A bunker in Gotham probably isn’t the worst idea, anyway,” he said, his tone dry. 

“I’m just doing my job,” he said, with another little smile. Although -- he smiled sheepishly at Jeremiah’s next question. “Uh, technically, no,” he said. There were plenty of people in his life who would say there weren’t any technicalities about being off, at least in his profession. Either you were or you weren’t. “Lead the way.”

"They don't need to," He argued. "We live in Gotham. This city is strange enough that no one needs to exaggerate a story." Of course there was always going to be bad reporters, but that wasn't the point he was trying to make. He wanted Jim to think he saw him just as most good little citizens had. As a hero. The truth was that he hadn't. He made that little situation with Jerome a little worse by being there. He failed to protect him or anyone else his twin brought up on that stage. Yet he just kept trying. Didn't he?

He opened his mouth and then promptly closed it when Jim suggested that he could be helped. "I um-" He got out, recalling the way his eyes stung and his skin burned and itched from the gas. How his body had shaken with uncontrollable laughter and that strange sense of freedom that came with it all. Not entirely sure why the memory assaulted him so suddenly or what it had to do with the subject at hand. He blinked a few times and then turned his gaze from Jim. He easily fell into the topic of his brother instead. "I don't want to disagree with your lovely sentiment... but I do beg to differ. I couldn't help Jerome when we were kids and no one could help him in Arkham either. Despite it being one of the only things Arkham promises. Mental Health care." He said with a sigh. "I think some people are beyond help... and let's face it. I've lived underground for 6 years without breaching the surface. I may never be ready to venture off on my own. I think I'll just go back home and forget this little excursion ever happened."

"Thank you, Mr. Gordon. You're very kind." He said with a dip of his head, "Not far from here." He said, gesturing to the direction he parked his car. "Are you on duty right now?"

[jamesgcrdon]

@umbrellaclad

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Jim took a sip of his drink as he glanced over at Oswald, his expression neutral. Oswald was always offering Jim olive branches; it just remained to be seen if it would actually mean peace -- a pax penguina as it were -- or if it would prove to be a mass of splinters, drawing blood. He set the scotch glass down at the table and laid his hands flat on the surface. “What do you get out of this?” he said. “Just tell me now, Oswald. There’s always something in it for you, somewhere down the line. Even if it won’t materialize right away, I know you.” He looked at him again. “You’re planning two or three moves ahead of everybody else.” Especially if he could use other people as pawns.

[jamesgcrdon]

@ofbalance -- prompt from here

“I knew what I was getting into.” Jim smiled faintly at the younger man and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s part of the job.” At least around Gotham, it was. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his jaw, which still ached from where the perp had slugged him. The man had managed to get a shot in before being shoved into a holding cell. “People don’t usually say thank you,” he said, with another half-smile. “Especially not when you’re shoving them into holding.” He wondered idly if it would bruise -- it wouldn’t be his first in the line of duty, and almost definitely wouldn’t be the last -- before looking back at Dick. “Can I help you with anything, Dick?”

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim stood his ground and raised an eyebrow as Ed approached him. “Not everybody has the same colorful hobbies you do, Ed,” he responded. He smiled rather humorlessly. “Probably,” he admitted, although it was clear he didn’t care about that very much. Corruption had been rooted deeply into Gotham for a long time. It made sense that people would fight its destruction kicking and screaming -- not to mention guns blazing. Still, the logic of it wasn’t going to stop him. If anything, it gave him even more of a reason to keep going. The way things were shouldn’t be acceptable. Jim knew as soon as Ed’s eyes flashed that he recognized the man in the picture. “A little bit of both,” he murmured. Though that was usually the case. Few things were simple in this city. A little hopeful flame lit in his chest, though it flickered as Ed brought up a riddle. He didn’t hate them the way Harvey always had, but they were just so time-consuming. “What’s the riddle?”

"Why'd I even ask?" Edward pondered, "I mean, do you do anything other than your job? ...That was a rhetorical question. I know you don't." He said with a short laugh, hopping off the stage and moving closer towards Jim daringly. "I'm sure you've lost several already, detective." His little game show wasn't all that legal, so he was a little surprised when Jim pulled out a picture. Cocking his head curiously as he glanced it over. A flash of recognition showing in his eyes. He gave Jim a quick glance to let him know that he knew and then he paused for a long moment. "I have seen him, yes. He picks up gigs for costumed baddies like myself. Real desperate for money. Is he in danger or the one putting others in danger? ...I can give you another hint, if you'll answer a riddle."

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim gave an awkward little chuckle as Jeremiah spoke, tucking his hands into the pockets of his work slacks. He wasn’t really comfortable with how much attention some of his cases garnered, but there wasn’t like he could do much about it. The best he could hope for was that the reports would at least be factual. “Oh, well, the news,” he said, with a faint smile. “They probably exaggerate.” He didn’t seek out the bizarre cases that seemed to fall in his lap, nor did he really seek out heroism. He just wanted to prove to the people of Gotham that there were people on the GCPD who really wanted to help them. To protect them, to do the right thing. It just so happened that his particular windmill included people like Penguin and the Riddler, who wouldn’t know an average crime scene -- or subtlety, for that matter -- if it smacked them upside the head. 

His own gaze scanned their surroundings, not finding anything amiss. “Of course you can,” he said softly, looking at the younger man again. “Everyone can be helped.” Until they couldn’t, of course -- until they crossed a line they couldn’t cross over again, or until their lives were stolen from them by a monster wearing man’s clothing. Or a whole myriad of tragedies in between. But until then, Jim wasn’t just going to let this kid feel like he was alone and unprotected. He nodded as Jeremiah asked him if he could walk him to his car. “Yeah, no problem,” he said, putting a protective hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder. “Where are you parked?”

He almost let his mask slip. Which wasn't something he wanted to do around James Gordon yet. No... he'd rather announce who he really was to him in a much more theatric way. So until then, he'd play a different part. "I find that hard to believe, detective. I'm always seeing your name on the news." Jeremiah told him, keeping his voice quiet. He quickly had a glance around them. Making sure to check behind the two of them for any more danger. "I don't know that I can be helped, Mr. Gordon." He told him, sounding more earnest than he probably was. "I shouldn't have left the bunker. At least, not without Ecco. I just thought... since he's dead-"

He never would have even dreamed of leaving his Bunker before a few weeks ago. He spent years surrounded by those tall grey walls. Safe within his maze where no one could possibly reach him. Two of those years, he hadn't even met his proxy in person. Some days he could feel his mind slipping from the isolation... with thoughts that twisted and turned just like the walls of his maze. He used to cover his mirrors so he wouldn't have to see Jerome's face looking back at him and now he didn't seem to feel nearly as paranoid. It was as though it washed away with the ocean tide. Leaving him with a confidence he'd never felt before now. "Would you walk me back to my car? It's not safe here. I should just go home."

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim had seen plenty of strange things in his tenure at the GCPD, not the least of which being Ed Nygma actually managing to date Kristen Kringle. He’d always liked Ed, probably more so than most of the precinct, but still -- game hadn’t exactly been at the top of Ed’s list of talents. And yet he vividly remembered that double date, with him and Lee, Ed and Kristen. Miss Kringle had seemed truly smitten with Ed, and despite not being a maudlin type of guy, Jim might be coerced into admitting it had tugged on his heartstrings. He’d wanted Ed to be happy. 

And then…well, things hadn’t stayed so rosy as they had been that night. Kristen had lost her life at Ed’s hands, and Jim’s own life had unraveled in his pursuit of the case. Jim hadn’t known her very well at the time, but after everything had happened, he didn’t think he would ever forget her face. So the sight of the woman sitting on the park bench stopped him cold. There were supposedly doppelgangers out there for everyone, sure, but…this was plain freaky, to borrow a word Bullock would use. She didn’t just resemble Kristen. If not for her hair, which didn’t even look real, she was Kristen. 

Even her voice was similar. Soft, pleasant, unassuming -- the voice of a woman who was accustomed to people speaking over her. And then Jim realized that he should be speaking. “Oh, I -- I’m sorry,” he said, and offered her an awkward, sheepish little smile. “You just remind me of someone that I knew a long time ago.” He gave her another smile, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Jim Gordon,” he added. “I’m sorry if I bothered you, Miss…?”

starter for @jamesgcrdon

Since waking up from her coma, Isabella was still getting used to things now. She knew she was very lucky that time moved on so slowly in Gotham -- technology hadn't changed at all in the two years she'd been in hospital -- but there were still small, odd, things. The mayor was different, and the newspapers referred to events she didn't know about, and public figures she had no recollection of.

She was trying to get up to speed on everything, to fill in the swathes of blankness she had. Time sometimes slipped away. She would be reading a book, and look up to find that several hours had passed, and she hadn't moved a muscle. Or she would walk into a room, and quite forget why she had walked in there in the first place. It reassured her to remember her doctor, with his smooth voice and calm demeanour and pink glasses, smiling at her. Things will seem unusual at first. That must be why. She was recovering.

She crossed her ankles and peered through her glasses at today's newspaper. The park was quiet for mid-afternoon, and she was grateful. Loud noises made her jump. But she felt someone looking at her, and she glanced up from the paper to see a man standing there, staring at her. She felt an inexplicable sense of deja vu, as if she knew him, though she had never seen him before in her life. "Can I help you?" she asked politely.

[jamesgcrdon]

“My job, Ed,” Jim said flatly, tilting his gaze up to meet the taller man’s eyes. He just raised an eyebrow as Ed brought up their history, for a moment seeing the eager, awkward young man who had just wanted to be taken seriously. To be seen and valued. It would take a harder heart than his not to be charmed by him. But Ed had changed -- to say the very least -- and there was a gulf between them now that he didn’t think could be crossed. “Yeah, well, I think I’ll survive losing a popularity contest or two,” he said, reaching into his inner coat pocket and pulling out a photo. “Do you know this guy?” he said. “Or have you seen him around here?”

@jamesgcrdon

"Oh, great. Just what are you doing here?" Riddler scoffed the moment he noticed the detective enter the room. Since when did the cops care about what happened in the Narrows? Most of them didn't even bother coming down all this way. "Look, Jim... because we have history, I'll allow you to be here for the show but I think you'll find the crowd won't like you very much." He warned him. The Riddle Factory didn't open it's doors to the public for another half hour. He was only really there to set up the stage. Ed placed a hand on the wheel and gave it a spin before he spun on his heels to face his old friend turned enemy again. "They do, however, love me!"

[jamesgcrdon]

@thejokerswilde -- from here

Jim glanced back at the younger man, thinking that he seemed rather…put out. He was used to people being less than grateful, to put it mildly, but this was different. It made him think of all the kids he’d caught back when he was a beat cop -- rocks or bricks held high in their hands, primed for a shop window, or with cans of spray paint aimed at a brick wall. He’d spoiled their fun. But it wasn’t like Jeremiah was the one who had been about to commit a crime. He had almost been the victim of one. It probably was just the face that threw him. Jerome’s face -- or, rather, Jerome’s face as it had been, before…well, honestly, Jim had lost track of everything that had happened to Jerome Valeska’s face at this point. 

He offered a brief smile. “I’m not that intimidating,” he cracked, although he supposed there were some younger officers who may disagree. “I arrested him earlier this week.” For the exact same crime he’d just stopped him from committing, come to think of it. He smiled again and shrugged. “Not a problem,” he said. “I bet.” He paused, looking him over again. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” He had the feeling the answer was probably no -- Jeremiah was undoubtedly used to shutting most people out, except his strange assistant, and getting on with it himself. But Jim felt compelled to ask nonetheless.

[jamesgcrdon]

@thedetectiverobin: from here

Jim studied the young man in front of him for a moment, his sandy eyebrows twitching together briefly. The speed of the answer pricked at his mind like a burr catching at his clothing, but there was nothing else to really arouse his suspicion. “My mistake,” he said, with a little smile, though he wasn’t entirely convinced that it was a mistake at all. “Sure.” He offered another faint smile. “Jim Gordon,” he added, holding out his hand for a shake. Since apparently they were strangers, he should introduce himself.

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim smiled faintly as Dinah spoke. She reminded him just a little bit of his ex -- he had the feeling the two of them would get along. “Uh, well, it’s not pleasure,” he admitted, another smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This isn’t really my thing.” Fancy dress parties seemed like a little bit of a time waster to him. But at the same time, it was hard to think about so many of the upper classes of Gotham gathered together in one place, and he wasn’t around to keep an eye on things. He smiled a little. “But I don’t have my badge on me, so it’s not business, either.” 

He glanced around the room again, before returning his gaze to her. “Dinah Lance, right?” he said. He wiped his scotch glass-dampened hand on the lapel of his jacket before holding it out for her to shake. “Jim Gordon,” he said. His name was starting to gain notoriety in certain circles, if not just because a few of his cases had ended up in the paper. Much to his chagrin.

Dinah glanced over as she heard someone say ma'am and then repeat it. Her eyes cast over to one detective Jim Gordon. She only knew little of him. Her father had been a GCPD detective before he passed. She was sure Jim was much younger at the time. Her eyes drifted down to the object in his hand.

"And they say they are supposed to stay in." She humored as she plucked the earring from his fingers and started putting it back into her right earlobe. Her eyes glanced back to the items before looking back at Jim. "Business or pleasure?" She asked, a knowing smile. "No flash of a badge unless you are undercover."

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim looked over at the young woman, shrugging his shoulders. “I grew up here,” he said simply. He didn’t really offer details on his personal history very often, even something as simple as being born in Chicago and moving to Gotham when he was young, at which point his father served as a district attorney. “I remember him,” he said. He also didn’t feel like it merited an actual verbal exchange, but he was fairly certain by looking at her that he’d been in high school, if not college, when Mayor Hill was the mayor of her childhood. 

“It’s not just up to the mayor,” he said. Fortunately. “There are people at all levels trying to make this city better.” A little boy with the world on his shoulders had once asked him if he believed Gotham could be saved, and he’d said he thought it was worth trying. He still believed that, even if it was an uphill battle every day. One that may very well cost him his life, but if that was the price he had to pay, he could only hope it was worth it.

Ecco turned to look at Jim Gordon. Of course, she knew who he was, though she'd never met him in person. He didn't seem eager for conversation, and she wondered if he was going to simply walk away. She wouldn't have minded. Jeremiah hadn't explicitly told her to forge a good relationship with the cops, but she had decided on her own initiative that it was the smart thing to do. But then Gordon asked if Mayor James had promised her something, and Ecco smiled to herself.

"Not personally," she replied. "But he promised the people." She paused, and continued in the same steady, calm, voice. "Were you born in Gotham, Detective Gordon? I was. When I was a little girl, Mayor Hamilton Hill was in office. He promised he would clean up this city." She blinked at him. "But it's still dirty. So no. Mayor James didn't promise me anything personally. He wouldn't have kept his promise even if he had."

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim chuckled softly, biting his tongue on the urge to remind his daughter to drink responsibly, as if she’d ever done anything but. “You know me, I’m not really a champagne kinda guy,” he said, offering her a soft smile. “But I trust your judgment.” He had already had a drink tonight, and although he wasn’t officially on the clock, he couldn’t help but feel like he really shouldn’t have too much to drink. He picked up a glass of water instead, resting on the same table. “Are you having a good time?” he asked, and smiled again. “Other than the long-winded speeches.”

usually dick was by her side at these kinds of things. she was an extra pair of eyes in the crowd just in case - barbara was always on edge but in a way that was exciting, ready to jump into action. She was on a couple years into the superhero stuff and it was everything fighting beside batman and robin. "Long winded speeches but at least the champagne is good." she smiled at the other person grabbing a glass.

[jamesgcrdon]

Jim glanced at the woman over the rim of his scotch glass, taking a minute sip. He didn’t exactly have a high opinion of Mayor James -- he’d had too much personal experience with the man to think particularly well of him, but he also knew that Aubrey James wasn’t a bad man. Not really, not deep down. He was just spineless, and more than happy to put his own interests before anyone else. Jim didn’t respect him, but he knew damn well there were far worse crooks -- far worse monsters -- in Gotham to contend with. 

He shrugged. “Who knows?” he said. He didn’t exactly want to talk about politics. There were few subjects in the world more likely to ignite a tinderbox. And yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, and he knew it was probably better to keep his mouth shut, he went on. He took another sip of his drink, his voice coming out rougher as the drink took a burning path down his throat.  “Did he promise you something?”

Ecco had attended countless events like this over the years. She knew how to spot who to shake hands with, who to smile at, who to flirt with a little. This was exactly like every other event she would have attended as Jeremiah's proxy, and she knew what he expected of her. She was to act like she always did -- greet strangers and acquaintances as if nothing had changed, when, in fact, everything had changed for Jeremiah, and, by extension, for her.

So, Ecco picked up a glass from a waiter's tray and sipped it casually. She addressed the person next to her, looking up at the podium where Mayor James had made his speech. "How long do you think it'll be until he follows through on those promises he made?"