THE BLUE AND WHITE BARRICADES of the Gotham PD line the entrance of Faden's apartment building. Forensics shuffle in and out, dodging the flash of cameras and murmuring reporters. The rain drizzles steadily, making the streets slick.
Y/N pulls his trench coat tighter against the drizzle, his gaze flicking between officers and reporters. Every face in the crowd looks bored, detached.
Like they've seen it all before.
He adjusts his collar as if the borrowed coat might somehow make him feel more at ease.
"This is how you blend in?" Lucy Lane's voice cuts through his thoughts. She stands beside him, notebook tucked under her arm, giving him a once-over with a smirk, "You look like you're waiting for an interrogation. Loosen up. You're supposed to be a journalist, not a private eye."
Y/N tries to adjust his stance, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"I thought reporters asked questions too."
"They do. Just not like they're building a profile." She jerks her head toward the building entrance, where officers begin to usher people away, "Come on, before they lock everything down."
Y/N follows her through the crowd.
She moved like she was on autopilot. Knowing exactly when to nod, smile, and nudge her way through.
They reach the yellow police tape where an officer stands guard. His face hardens the moment he spots them.
"No press allowed inside." Jerry says flatly, folding his arms across his chest.
"Aw, come on, Jerry. We're just here for a peek." Lucy flashes him a bright, insincere smile, her badge appearing like magic from her coat pocket, "Two minutes, tops."
"No dice, Lane." He grumbles, "Orders from the top."
"Don't be like that, Jerry. You let us in, and I'll owe you one." Lucy steps in closer, her voice dropping to a murmur, "Maybe even leave your name out of the story."
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