ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ;;

[latro]

This is Hood.

[ The sounds are unmistakable; the clinking of glasses, soft rock music, muted chatter. Hood's on a bar, be it for the booze or for the memories, he ain't telling. It's a little bit of both, really. At least in there he can pretend the crazy world he's been dumped into exists at all. As long as he doesn't walk out again there's nothing to worry, right? ]

Someone fucked up. [ There's a hint of irritation in his voice. ] They wanted a hero, they got me. I'm honored, really, but I sort of quit that life. [ Being a cop and being a hero aren't exactly the same, but that's as close as he's ever going to get. ]

I get it, though. No going back, at least not willingly. Fine. [ A pause; that whiskey isn't going to drink itself. ]

Just... you go your way, I go mine. Got it.

Good.

[ As if he would wait for an actual reply, pffft. ]

Comments

[tardily]

[ "Sort of quit that life". In Barry's experience that usually means there's still a small part of the person who still wants to be in that life. ]

Only sort of quit it?

[latro]

It's like everyone's obsessing in a single string of words I said.

[ Already regretting this shit. ]

[tardily]

[ Too late to take it back though. There's a snort before. ]

Tends to happen when you're in a place where there's a lot of superheroes, we all have powers. Makes words like that stand out like a sore thumb. Or a sort of sore thumb.