Entrance post.
Stephanie Brown is more familiar with the Gotham skyline than any sixteen-year-old girl should be. Not familiar just with the way it looks, but with which buildings are good to shoot for, which provide the best views of traffic, which you can leap off and how long you can leap for before splattering in oncoming traffic. She knows which way to jump and how hard to jump to catch the 10:38 train if you swing from the gargoyle just above the Frederik Stuart Smith building and circle Wayne Tower on your way. She could tell you exactly how hard to push off from the building when the wind's blowing any given speed and direction and you want to land neatly and cleanly right in the middle of the next-door building's skylight.
She knows Gotham City.
And she's overconfident, and laughing, and not paying as much attention as she should be.
Perhaps this explains why her purple-clad - no, that's eggplant-clad - figure hits the ground quite so hard. After all, it was clear air a moment ago.
She lets out a groan and pulls herself shakily to her feet. "Oh. Oh, okay, what the hell?"
There's a moment of just staring.
Then she pushes back her hood and yanks her mask off to see better, revealing tousled blonde hair, a reddening patch where she hit that will be a bruise later, and an expression that can only be described as W. T. F.
"...I don't think we're in Kansas any more."
She knows Gotham City.
And she's overconfident, and laughing, and not paying as much attention as she should be.
Perhaps this explains why her purple-clad - no, that's eggplant-clad - figure hits the ground quite so hard. After all, it was clear air a moment ago.
She lets out a groan and pulls herself shakily to her feet. "Oh. Oh, okay, what the hell?"
There's a moment of just staring.
Then she pushes back her hood and yanks her mask off to see better, revealing tousled blonde hair, a reddening patch where she hit that will be a bruise later, and an expression that can only be described as W. T. F.
"...I don't think we're in Kansas any more."