[Chaos is absolutely the state of everything of late. Chaos, disarray, carnage in the physical sense, the mental sense, and the emotional sense. Oswald hasn't even seen much in the way of his own nightmarish thoughts walk the streets and he can already feel the way it claws at him from the way the monsters and the feeling of dread seeps out of others. Even if he hasn't got a clean line from A to B of how these things are coming to be, it seems clear enough that they're being generated from deeply personal places, everything far too specific to be generalised horror.
The escape from the glassy space of Vrenille's mansion in the Up to the Arena in the Down revealed that they had plenty of muscle, though not so much in the way of weapons and additional resource. So during a lapse in the hurricane of horrors, in the eye of the storm perhaps, there's Oswald in the club, rifling through what had been stored there to take back with him to Duplicity.
And that's when the banging starts to filter through.
The first few times, Oswald thinks about ignoring it, though even then he rolls his eyes to start to yell back 'we're CLOSED!' but even as the words start to form even Oswald knows the insistence of that noise isn't someone looking for a drink.
And not only that, he knows that voice. Not in such desperate tones, certainly, but he knows that voice.
It's what drives urgency into his steps, makes him fumble with the lock trying to get it open more quickly as he yanks the door open. No one would need to be a genius to figure out what's going on here--some kind of terror is hot on Dick's trail. This means there's very little preamble, just the door parting with enough space to usher the other man inside.]
Hurry up and get inside!
[Somehow, he still manages to make it sound as if he's the one impatient with Dick here, like the younger man is stalling somehow.]
no subject
The escape from the glassy space of Vrenille's mansion in the Up to the Arena in the Down revealed that they had plenty of muscle, though not so much in the way of weapons and additional resource. So during a lapse in the hurricane of horrors, in the eye of the storm perhaps, there's Oswald in the club, rifling through what had been stored there to take back with him to Duplicity.
And that's when the banging starts to filter through.
The first few times, Oswald thinks about ignoring it, though even then he rolls his eyes to start to yell back 'we're CLOSED!' but even as the words start to form even Oswald knows the insistence of that noise isn't someone looking for a drink.
And not only that, he knows that voice. Not in such desperate tones, certainly, but he knows that voice.
It's what drives urgency into his steps, makes him fumble with the lock trying to get it open more quickly as he yanks the door open. No one would need to be a genius to figure out what's going on here--some kind of terror is hot on Dick's trail. This means there's very little preamble, just the door parting with enough space to usher the other man inside.]
Hurry up and get inside!
[Somehow, he still manages to make it sound as if he's the one impatient with Dick here, like the younger man is stalling somehow.]