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You push the gun back to him lightly, the metal warm against your skin.
"What little rapport I have with this guy is built on trust, I can't risk him somehow finding out."
"Rook.." He begins but you shake your head.
"You know I'm right. He's shaken right now and something like this could be what sends him off the edge. Especially being near Wayne Tower, Shivers is already going to be stirred up like crazy."
Hawthorne holds that steel gaze on you but you're dead set. A few seconds pass and he sighs before leaning back down and refastening the holster. He yanks the rolled up pantleg over it again and stands shaking his head.
"I trust you, Mark. It's him that's the issue."
"I appreciate that, sir."
"Yeah." He grumbles.
"It'll be fine. Focus on getting everyone together, maybe put together an FAQ for Kimble." You chuckle and see Hawthorne's shoulders jump once as he lets his own silent chuckle loose.
"I will, kid, just text me when you get there. Thirty minutes and no contact I'll send someone. I'll send everyone." The unease is clear to see in his eyes. But your bond is too strong to let him stop you. You give him one last nod and make your way to the elevator, heading to the car.
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Wayne Tower's square was always busy. Reporters, Employees, even just people hoping to catch a glimpse of Wayne or his many guests. The trains connected to it rattle and shake the framework on which they rest. All of it watched over by stoic stone guardians who lurk on the edges of the tower.
This place was always bustling and this morning's attack on Dent has done nothing to cut those numbers down, quite the opposite it seems. A surging blob of lights, lens' and microphones crowd the door. An older man with a bald head stands at the door keeping the crews at bay.
"..Can you comment on Mr. Wayne's condition?"
"..Mr. Wayne vanished from the event just moments before the attack. Where did he go? Did he know it was coming?"
"...Are the rumors of the attacker wearing Wayne Tech gear true!?"
The reporters shout over one another, pushing and shoving for the chance to be the one who could break even the smallest story that would put Wayne's name in a headline. Your head swims slightly and a faint ache comes behind your eyes, you find a stone bench and take a seat. You inhale slowly and follow your meditations, but even then Shivers trickles through in small ways. Your face grows warm and itches, the scent of gauze infiltrating your nose, you close your eyes tightly and let out the breath. You open your eyes and see above you, falling slowly like a curtain of rain, slow and buoyant feathers. You blink. And the air is clear as it was just moments ago. You press your palms to your eyes and huff. You were right, this place is a hotspot for shivers, it feels like your brain is trying to pull you in every direction and the noise inside your own head reaches a fever pitch before it goes deathly silent.
