System malfunction || DC

Chapter Three

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Knock Knock

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The weather Gods had chosen to deliver the sun after so many days of dreary drizzle. It was the promise of spring, the end of the dreary, cold days of winter. Spring, flowers, and blooming loomed ahead. Gothamians, young and old, marched with a fresh bounce in their step, heads raised high to catch the first kiss of spring warmth.

The morning was picture-perfect, and even the buses arrived on schedule. The buildings downtown gleamed silver in the early sun, and the sky was an unbroken expanse of blue. The unusual blush of trees extended out to the light, casting a relaxing shade among the commuters below.

It was one of those baby-blue skies, not the kaleidoscopic candy-blue or washed-out grey of wintry mornings. The clouds were like puffs of bright delight, ready to scatter into the wind and go throughout our planet. Jocelyn sat on her balcony, watching them a whirl, clean reflected rays dappled and swirling with the sky until all that was left was that exquisite baby-blue, the same color as before as if encouraging those born of the wing to ride warm thermal air heaven-bound.

Her calm days were like feathers in the breeze, moving this way and that, pleased to shift course according to the wind. Just as the feather will come to rest on the earth in its own time, so will the sunrise and set in the sky. Yet there is such freedom in each given minute between them and an eternally branching route with no pathways at all. And with that entire freedom, there is a need for quiet patience, the type that is happy to wait for the way to gleam, to show itself worthy of adventure, wonder, and magic.

Her new life allowed her to drop her shoulders and relax her guard. To prop up her feet and admire the way the wind blew in ways she could never understand. She was free and although it scared her to not know what to do with her life, she had all the time to trial and error.

As Whiskey cleaned the thick plump of her fur and Jocelyn steadily threw back the last mouthful of her green smoothie, there was a sudden knock at the door. Both turned to each other accusingly, wondering who it was and who they were after.

"Whiskey, what did you do this time?" Jocelyn hissed under her breath, squatting low and peering over the chair and towards the front door. The cat huffed and smacked her leg twice.

"Last week it was Mrs. Sander's goldish and yesterday it was Mr. Dorbish's mail" the feline was a public nuisance who went where she wanted and did what she wanted. Many tenants had complained but there were more who favored the crazy cat and after an apartment vote, Whiskey was put on probation.

meaning she wasn't allowed outside apartment 8C for a week. If she didn't obey, then... well, nothing actually. It was more of an empty threat than anything. Whiskey was fucking cat. They couldn't discipline a cat.

The knocking continued, and Jocelyn finally gave in, not wanting a noise complaint to be added to her record. As she trudged to the door, she made sure she looked presentable. dressed simply in a flowy dress with her hair tied into a braid. It was a far cry from the stiff, armored uniform she used to wear.

Reaching the door, she quickly checked her breath—fine—and opened the door. Seeing who stood beyond the wood surprised her. The male, who had recently turned twenty, shifted under her gaze and then cleared his throat when she didn't speak up.

"Sorry, is this a bad time?"

Jocelyn regained focus and stepped aside, "No, it's fine, come in."

Tim Drake stepped inside, a hand sweeping over his black hair. To be courteous, he removed his shoes and exchanged them for some extra slippers. He turned back before entering the flat and handed Jocelyn the bag he had brought with him.