jumpscares

[ heads up: roger is non-verbal in his wolf form! he's still in possession of human reasoning, though, and it's possible to find ways to communicate with him. telepaths and the like, if we have any, are free to speak with him that way! ]

one → outside the compound, inside the fence (wolf);

[ nobody likes the smell of a wet dog, and that includes roger. but nobody likes being wet, either, so there's not a lot of traffic outside the compound right now. there's a wolf pacing the inside of the fence, nose to the ground. he stops now and then to scratch experimentally at the wet earth.

roger knows that digging a breach under the fence is a bad fucking idea. but it's a way worse idea for someone else than it is for him: if there's a way under the fence, roger can leave at his leisure, hunt in the woods, and not have to spend any time outside the gates, naked and two-legged and stashing his clothes in a log infested with zombie termites. sure, maybe something can get in under the fence. probably nothing big enough or undead enough to worry about, but 'probably' isn't anyone's favorite word during the apocalypse.

still, roger's willing to take that chance. he doesn't expect anyone else to be. ]

two → in the halls (wolf) / roger's room (human);

[ having done a reasonable amount of investigation along the fence, and not being particularly keen on getting any muddier, roger's coming back inside.

that is, he's leaving muddy pawprints down the corridors on his way back to his room, because why would he leave his clothes outside to get wet, too? he'd left the compound as a wolf, so he's coming back as a wolf. hopefully no one sees the mess before he can clean it up.

occasionally, his paws slip on the floors: anyone following the tracks might be left with the impression of a clumsy golden retriever instead of a ~*~majestic wolf~*~. the tracks lead back to roger's room. ]

three → medical bay (human);

[ dry and clothed, roger is now searching for cleaning supplies. the medical bay seemed like a place to start. besides, while he's here, he can get an idea of what's around for first aid. if he wants to make friends, he figures that's one skill he has that's marketable in these dark times. can't kill the doctor, right?

he contemplates whether he could convince anyone he's a doctor. ]

[Rain? No biggie to Steph, a born and bred Gothamite. Especially when you're trying to be one of those super hero types. It just comes with the territory, and as Harper's told her before (when Steph said she didn't want to patrol because it was pouring rain) bad guys don't stay in just because it's a little wet.

And hey, the fresh air isn't bad. It can get stuffy in that compound and really Steph's been itching to explore. She hasn't managed to go beyond the fence yet, but it's only a matter of time really. She does still have that map after all. She keeps it on her just in case.

For now she's walking the perimeter of the fence, running a hand along the metal, and -- almost stumbling over a dog apparently

Or... not a dog....

That is defs a wolf.]

Uhhhh [She glances around] Nice... puppy?

[Holding up hands defensively. Pls don't eat her.]

[ it's not like he didn't know she was there: her feet squelching along in the mud were way more than enough to give her away, even under the overlay of rain. but people aren't suspicious of dogs unless they act suspicious, so roger waits until they're close before he looks up from the ground, wagging his tail cautiously. please don't chase him off.

at least it's a girl. girls love dogs. at this point, roger imagines his biggest problem will be getting her to leave him the fuck alone without also framing himself as a threat.

he does not want to be a four-legged threat in a compound full of armed, frightened people. no fucking sir. ]

[Oh look! Tail wagging! Do, uh, wolves wag their tails? That's weird, isn't it? Maybe it's like a domesticated wolf. It doesn't seem frightened of her after all.

She holds out her hand for him to sniff at, hoping maybe she can pet him if all's successful.]

Hi there, big guy. Or girl. [Steph shrugs]

[ like roger's got any fuckin' clue if wolves wag their tails.

he stretches his head forward somewhat daintily to meet her hand. it's less about behaving to expectations and more about finding out what he can, which turns out not to be much. she almost smells familiar, but then, they're all here together. there's bound to be some mingling of scents.

when he pulls back, he remembers to keep wagging his tail. the friendlier the dog, the harder it is to eat it, right?

oh god, he hadn't even thought of that. what if someone tries to fucking eat him? ]

[Who the hell would eat a dog???? Not Steph, that's for sure.

After he sniffs her hand, she reaches up to pat him and scratch behind the ears..]

Awww. Where'd you come from anyway? I didn't know we had a wolf dog. [Like he can answer her.]

[ well, at least she seems to realize he's not your garden-variety mutt, even if she is petting him like one. (roger isn't complaining.) in answer to her question, he looks in the general direction of 'outside the fence.'

he's honestly tempted to play along. maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being an animal in the apocalypse. he's a smart dog. if some human wanted to champion him, he'd give them plenty of reason: an obedient, intelligent animal with as many teeth as roger has right now could be a huge help. he could be a guard dog, he could learn to hunt.

but when he thinks about it, about staying a wolf for that long? it's scary. how long would it take him to forget what his own voice sounds like?

(the alternative doesn't feel much safer, though. how long before someone catches him shifting and tries to burn him at the stake or some shit?) ]

Edited (poor icon choices) 2015-10-26 20:43 (UTC)

[Bruce is not a doctor, by any stretch of the imagination. He does, however, have rudimentary medical skills - or more than rudimentary, roughly on par with a field medic.

He's also himself and god damned Batman, in uniform or out, which means he's had ample reason to visit the medical bay, to investigate the supplies and make sure at least the basics are in place. For his own benefit if not for someone else's.

All of which explains why he's there when Roger comes in, sitting and sewing up a gash in his own forearm. He glances up when he hears noise, and then asks, directly and maybe a bit rudely: ]

What are you looking for?

[ roger's not surprised to find a person in the medical bay, precisely, but he's a little surprised in general. the guy's stitching himself up, for starters, and even sitting down — he's a big guy. luckily roger's human; it's easier to hide his intimidation with no expressive ears or tail to give it away.

he raises his shoulders high and shoves his hands in his pockets, though, so maybe it doesn't matter. ]

Uh... rags, bleach, maybe — or, like, just... soap and water.

[ he eyes the half-closed wound warily. it doesn't look like a bite mark, but roger's not really sure how transmission works in the actual fucking zombie apocalypse, either. ]

[The ragged cut's from a piece of rusty metal, and it's probably a good thing his tetanus vaccination is up to date. Not that it's easy to tell and Roger being concerned about not turning into a zombie is still something Bruce would consider a sign of intelligence. ]

You came to the medical bay for cleaning supplies? [ Not the worst idea in the world. He finishes knotting off one of the stitches he's putting into his arm and then gestures with his head. ] Check that cabinet over there for the industrial cleaner. Soap is at the sink or under them. What are you trying to clean up?

[ the second time bruce speaks, roger relaxes visibly. he doesn't feel at all at home here, especially with a portion of the compound's residents (roger grimaces every time he thinks of them that way; it suggests a permanence that he's not really accepting yet) having been established well before he arrived. this guy seems a little brusque, but he's helpful and he's not chasing roger off or threatening him.

tearing his eyes from bruce's arm, he heads over to the cabinet. his head stays turned with one ear toward bruce, even when it means he's surveying the cabinet's contents from the corner of his eye. ]

Mud. Fuckin' pourin' out there. [ not that there's mud on his shoes or clothes at all, though his hair is damp. ]

[ He spends a second or two studying Roger, pretty blatantly looking him over and then bends his head to put in another stitch. He's got maybe one more after this one. ]

Who tracked in that much mud?

[ roger picks up a washcloth and steals a glance at bruce as he closes the cabinet. ]

Some dog, I guess. Pawprints all over the halls.

[ at least, that's what roger intends to let everyone think. he'd rather be the guy willing to clean up a mess that's not his than the asshole who tracked mud into their humble abode.

besides, he's not really excited to explain the whole werewolf thing, if he doesn't have to. ]

[He put in the last stitch, knotted the thread, tied it off and clipped it before he stood up.

No, he was not a small man.]

I'd hoped we'd seen the last of that dog.

[ He was thinking of Thud, who wasn't exactly a dog and he hadn't seen in some time. ]

I suppose it's possible that it's a different one. Let's go look before you wipe up the evidence.

[ oops, there roger goes, getting some other poor innocent dog in trouble. that wouldn't be enough to get him to bail on its own (poor innocent dog, sure, but roger always looks out for number one), but 'let's go look' is a different story.

roger's not an idiot. those muddy pawprints go straight to his room. if he can talk his way out of this, he's gotta start now. ]

Nah, it's no big deal. Probably long gone now, anyway.

[ he makes the mistake of turning to actually look at bruce, preparing an earnest and guileless expression. no, that most certainly is not a small man. roger's well-practiced innocent look falters. ]

[had Roger played this even remotely cool, Bruce would have been fully capable of accepting that Thud was tracking mud around the halls and Roger was going to be helpful. He wouldn't have even, probably, paid much attention to who's room the tracks led to or from. Okay, he would have, but he would have come up with a reasonable explanation for himself, or believed one if Roger had given it to him.

He's a detective, not a mindreader.

That response, though? The falter? Yeah, that's enough to make him really curious What in the world about a dog is worth hiding?

He puts the medical supplies down, picks up a roll of paper towels and just- walks for the door. With or without Roger, it's clearly not cleaned up yet. ]

The dog, yes. The prints no.

[ well. roger did not maintain control of this situation at all.

he makes an exasperated noise and takes several long steps to catch up, then continues to take long steps to keep up. ]

Seriously, I can take care of this. You look like a busy guy.

[ walking beside him now, roger steals another glance at the wound on his arm. bruce doesn't smell like dead things, which is a plus. roger's wondering if he'll be able to smell the infected, if he encounters them. ]

[ Bruce isn't sure about the source of exasperation, but the more exasperated and frustrated Roger gets, and the more he tries to dissuade Bruce, the more determined he gets to find those paw prints and figure out what's so unusual about them. ]

I don't have anywhere I need to be for hours.

[ His tone is pleasant. His smile is - cutting, frankly, and he isn't slowing down. Good news, though - that wound is neat as can be, and he doesn't even remotely smell like anything dead, not even from close exposure. Just soap, sweat, leather and - well, gun powder, because he's batman and he's been playing with explosives. ]

[ because of course he doesn't.

okay. get it together, roger. just because the guy looks like a fucking olympian, doesn't mean you have to be intimidated. you're a werewolf, remember?

... oh yeah, that's the problem. ]

Okay — okay.

[ roger takes a quick couple of steps to put himself in front of bruce, holding up his hands in an uncertain cross between 'don't shoot' and 'calm down.' ]

Look, I thought somebody might get — y'know, I get that it's the zombie apocalypse or whatever, we probably don't need a fuckin' dog around. The dog should probably be food. That's why I didn't wanna say anything.

[ ssssort of true, roger supposes, in that it had recently occurred to him that someone might eat a dog, given current events. he's just hoping he doesn't have to clarify that he is the dog. ]

[Bruce stops walking for a moment, because just walking into the kid is a bad idea but he really, really, hates that movie and there's a flash of actual irritation in his eyes. It's that same flash of irritation that made his tone just a bit colder and had him calling the bullshit out more directly. ]

Except you already told me that there was a dog, here. You had no problem at all in letting me know you were cleaning up paw prints - and I already said that I'd met at least one dog here. [ Dog or near enough to one ] Whatever your issue is, it isn't that you're worried about the dog being here. Maybe you're afraid I'm going to hunt it down and eat it?

[ And then he puts a hand on Roger's shoulder, moves him to the side (or tries) and keeps going. ]

[ roger can feel the creeping sensation of fear down the back of his neck. he'd lay his ears back if he could: if bruce was intimidating when pleasant, he's definitely setting off fight-or-flight bells now that he's annoyed. good fuckin' job, roger.

he flinches, ducking away from bruce's hand when he reaches out, so there's hardly any moving to be done. he's out of the way, and he falls back into quick step behind bruce once he's walking again. ]

Not you, specifically? [ needless question marks and uneasily lilting speech take the place of the canine body language he's missing. ] I'm not sayin' you look like a guy who'd eat a dog, just — someone might?

Then it's a good thing we're going to go clean up the evidence of where he came from and where he went, isn't it?

[ Yeah, he's bugged. He's not bugged enough to miss the dodge of his hand or the extra question marks or uneasiness in the kid. He is, however, bugged enough to ignore them - or maybe that's just him being himself. He does make a mental note to not try and make physical contact again (unless that dodge reaction gets him what he needs), but meanwhile he's going right out into the hall and heading toward the front door. That's where those paw prints have to start. If they're there, and if they're actually mud instead of something else. Then he is absolutely going to follow them.

Unless Roger make a break for it. If Roger makes a break, he's what Bruce is going to follow. ]

Still not sure why there's a 'we,' big guy. I mean, I know I look like a delinquent, but I keep a clean house.

[ he's a nervous talker. he knows it, too, but that doesn't mean he can stop it.

they'll encounter the pawprints before they reach the front door, where roger took a turn to head for his room. they're definitely made of mud, and the floor is sprinkled with water from dripping fur.

he's not running. maybe he could outrun bruce with four legs, but he's not that fast with only two, and getting caught would probably suck. a lot. roger's not a fighter. ]

Because you are being evasive, and not doing a good enough job of even that to disguise the fact.

[Hey, look, it was honesty on his end. Then again - honesty, used as a weapon. It isn't quite the same as actual honesty, but. Well, it's Batman. You get what you get.

He looks around at the ground, cranes his head back to verify where those paw prints came from and then follows them all the way to the end. He even tries that door, then turns and lifts his eyebrows at Roger.

Next excuse?e ]

[ roger is also not doing a good enough job to deny the fact, so as an alternative, he sighs in resignation and stays put while bruce investigates the tracks. eventually, he follows him to the end.

it's too bad he closed his fucking door when he left. at least if it was open, it might be plausible that the dog escaped (and floated off into the ether, leaving no more muddy tracks? not really, but); with the door closed and no dog inside, roger's got nowhere else to backpedal. the muddy prints end abruptly within his room. there's no sign that the dog went anywhere after that.

he raises his eyebrows back at bruce, looking far braver and at least as stupid as he feels right now. ]

Guess maybe Rover was worried about our housemates getting hungry, too.

ota, any format!

come at me dogboy (aka 1)

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