milliways_bar | (no subject)

Knox enters the Bar from his city, soaking wet as usual of late. He takes a breath, and is relieved not to be singing (yet).

"Good evening, Shufti," he says as he drapes his hat and coat over a chair.

"Good afternoon Mr... Alexander."

She smiles a little.

"You're all wet!" she says, moving over to him and drying him a little with the sleeve of her jumper.

"It's rainy season in Gotham. Starts in November, and goes till the snowy season starts. Part of the city's charm." Knox grins at Shufti's efforts to help.

"How are you doing, kid?"

"Did I mention I feel like I'm carrying an elephant?"

She smiles. "How are you? Apart from wet?"

"I'm no expert, but I don't think you're any larger than any other pregnant lady. And I think that's a good sign anyway. Means the kid should be healthy." Knox sits down.

"I'm doing well. Busy on a big story. Or at least I hope it's big."

"I think it's just because I'm small." she says. "Last time I was checked Doctor Guppy said it was slightly small but not dangerously so."

She picks up her knitting again. "What's the story about?"

"Yeah, I guess you a bit small." But women with crossbows have a way of seeming big.

"There's this man in Gotham. A crimefighter who calls himself Batman. And he got into a big fight with one of his enemies. During the fight, his airplane - that's a machine that can fly - crashed. I'm working on a story about that machine. About how's it built, and about the people keeping an eye on it."

"Was his Rupert angry?"

Knox makes a face. That can't possibly mean what he's afraid it means.

"I have no idea what that means."

"His officer." she says.

"If he's a batman he must be working for someone, like I'm a batman for Mr Faramir."

It takes Knox a few moments before he remembers the old British term for an officer's aide. It's a good thing Knox used to watch WWII films.

"He's not that kind of batman. He dresses like a bat. See, Bat-man. Guess we should hyphenate it.

"I didn't know you had a job. This at home, or here?"

"Here. Back home I'm the head chef at the inn I live at."

A hand to her bulge. "I had to support this little one somehow. People here are kind, but I can't rely on charity."

Wide blue eyes. "He dresses as a bat? Why?"

Knox wishes more people in Gotham would have that attitude.

"That's good to hear. Though it will be a bit rough, working two jobs and looking out for the baby. But you have help, right?

"He dresses as a Bat to...I think so he can scare the crooks. Or maybe because he has a thing about bats. But the stuff they believe about his is pretty intense, so at least the crooks are running from him."

"No time passes at home when I'm here, so I'll only be working one at once."

If you don't work in Borogravia you starve, that's more or less it really.

"Is he a watchman then?"

"He's independent. The watchmen - we call them police, or cops - are kind of corrupt. Oh, the men in charge are honest, but if you want to get things done, it's sometimes eaiser to be outside the system till they clean things up.

"Thing is, he's a man of secrets, and that's part of the story."

"Won't he be angry and upset if you reveal his secrets? He's only helping people after all."

Knox stops and sighs.

"You got a point. And believe me, if I really wanted to, I could go after all of his secrets. But I don't want to stop him. Or find out his real name. I just want to know more.

"And that plane of his? Someone wants to learn more as well. Someone in the government. So in a way, I'd be helping him by revealing their secrets, too." This is what's called splitting hairs. Knox is good at it.

"How does that help people?"

"It helps him by letting him know just who's been keeping an eye on him. And it helps the public by letting them know that the government is playing games.

"I mean, if they really wanted to impound his plane, couldn't they just take it away?" Knox tries to make a logic that works for others. It works fine for him.

"What does impound mean?" she asks, starting a new row.

"To take away to a government storage yard because the item in question is in the way or dangerous or badly parked. They do it all the time to, er, horseless carriages. So they could do it to the plane.

"They'd just need a really big tow truck." And he gets ready to explain what trucks and horseless carriages are.

"Like cars?"

"You know cars?" Knox is now ready to be surpsied, in case she means what he thinks she means.

She nods.

"They have engines in that makes them move without horses, and many families have two or more. They don't use magic and are cheap enough for ordinary Earth families to afford. CJ told me. He sells them."

"That's a car alright. Though this CJ forgot to tell you that you don't want to own one in a big city, and that the cost of maintaining one is high. But if he's salesman, I guess he'd gloss that over." Knox smirks.

"A truck is a larger form of car, meant for work purposes. If a car is a racehorse, a truck is a team of workshorses."