MENTAL LINK.

[batmotif]

[Though it may be the first time that Bruce has reached out to everyone mentally, there’s no hesitation in how quickly his voice permeates in other hosts’ heads. As with most things, the man gets right to it — besides, this isn’t exactly being done for the sake of pleasantries.

Straight to business then:]

(If you’ve been paying attention, you’d know that Public Security Commissioner Seong-Hye Ngozi has been hiding something. I plan on visiting her office to find out exactly what that is.)

[Images of the office building itself filters through the link, the fruit of prior research and reconnaissance. And the implication is more than clear that this isn’t exactly going to be a scheduled office visit.]

(I’ll need distractions outside of the Public Security offices. Only volunteer if you’re confident that you know what you’re doing.)

[He’s sure questions are on their way, but he’s not willing to entertain them preemptively. Thus, his words end there.]

((ooc; this is the post for your character to ICly offer themselves to help with the break-in plot. (As detailed here.) Note that while Bruce might not find everyone’s credentials compelling, that won’t stop your character from coordinating with others if they want. He's not your supervisor!!!

Therefore, threadjacking is highly encouraged so all characters can sort out their plotting together!)

Comments

swoons!!!

[cognitived]

[ The press of another mind is nearly too much, but Clint recognizes Bellamy instantly. There's a soft, bone weary thrum under the weight of him as Clint's mind unfurls, settling into the threads of their bond. Usually, it'd be tempered with faint confusion. But Bellamy's appearing too quickly after thoughts of the Raft for it to probably be a coincidence. ]

( Broadcasting too loud, huh? )

flexes

[deployed]

( Yes. But I can't exactly complain, can I? )

[ It's not as if Bellamy's possessed of such impeccable restraint. The bond between them stretches, humming with intent while Bellamy considers the best way to broach the topic at hand, settling finally on&mdash ]

( I have alcohol, if you want some. )

[ This is leveling up from toast. ]

my hero

[cognitived]

[ Well, no, that's fair. Clint huffs with amusement, even as Bellamy continues. There's a burst of pleased surprise, tempered with faintly fond relief. This is why Bellamy is his favorite. ]

( Best news I've heard all day. See you in a bit? )

[ GONNA DRINK WITH DA BOI, AYYYY ]

[deployed]

[ sticks tongue out at the rest of the brood nyaah he's the favorite. ]

( When you're done, come to the common room. )

[cognitived]

[ Actual 12 yr old Bellamy Blake.

There's a soft thread of acknowledgement, before Clint pulls back. It takes a few more minutes, tying up conversations and convincing Sam he isn't about to go brood alone. But eventually, Clint makes his way down to the common room. ]

Hey man.

[ Drops onto the sofa, a graceless sprawl, rubbing one hand over his face. ]

[deployed]

Hey.

[ Bellamy's book of the moment is tucked between his thigh and the cushion, safely out of the way as he hands Clint a bottle. ]

I think it's this place's version of moonshine.

[ And it was miles better than anything Monty had brewed. Drinking it was nostalgic. Bellamy was only sipping, just for the taste, rather than trying to even maintain a buzz. He hands it off easily, without asking the obvious questions. ]

[cognitived]

[ Clint accepts the bottle easily, not taking a drink just yet. Instead, he heaves a sigh, turning the bottle between his hands, staring at the clear liquid. He's got all of his mental walls up, stitched tight, prickly with lingering irritation. But it eases a little, with distance, with Bellamy's calm regard.

He drinks, one shoulder sloping in a shrug. Yeah, definitely moonshine, miles better than any of the shit they had in the circus. The drink helps a bit more, but not necessarily because of the kick. It's just strangely familiar, the unwind from rough missions, Nat swiping a bottle from between his fingers, the reassurance they're alive.

Tradition. He proffers the drink, a silent question. Silent regard. ]