i suffered fools so gladly and now i find, i've changed my mind.

[caballero]

Who: Bruce Wayne, Jim Kirk.
What: Observations and delegating. (Sort of.)
Where: Various places.
When: 29th-31st. Ish.
Warnings: References to violence, more TBA.

It isn't difficult to track Jim Kirk's CiD. The first to respond on his peer cohort, the first in the city as a whole to respond in an unselfish way. Bruce keeps tabs on him and digs up everything else he can, and learns he's the first to be proactive about it, too. He makes a note of it, of him, and then when his schedule knots, he knows just what to do: borrow a Starfleet captain to untie it.

(Starfleet is a word that itches in the back of his mind and annoys him in a way he doesn't actually want to think harder about - a multidimensional repetitive, like his own name. Does it make Kirk someone of more or less interest? He puts it out of his mind.)

The timing has to work; he's got a day to work with for sure and a day in limbo, half a day to get where he needs to go after that. So he follows Kirk and makes it sloppy (for him) so that the other man will notice - but just barely. It can't look like he's trying to get noticed, in fact it can't look like anything at all. It has to feel like someone's watching him, and he has to hope Kirk is an observant enough man to pick up on it. But if there's anyone who's a cold professional at manipulating how he's seen or not seen to others - be it specific people, crowds, entire cities - it's Bruce Wayne.

then the riddle gets solved and you push me up to this

[caballero]

Who: Bruce Tom & Seoraj.
What: Camping, completely free of ulterior alibi motive.
Where: North of Flag Hill.
When: Beginning roughly on the 30th.
Warnings: Weirdness, violence, sexuality.

They leave early, because that's the tradition of camping - before dawn, as they have to make it up to the northern edge of the city proper first ("'Morning-") - the provisional shops built into the cliff face that hosts the treacherous ways up into the forests are helpful, the proprietors less so; that they generally profit off fools isn't anything they keep quiet. Bruce isn't bothered. Cold morning air and physical exertion with dirt under his hands makes some far-off part of him feel at peace.

It's just starting to become properly bright out when they reach the summit that'll lead them into the woods, and he takes a moment to stop and look out over the view of the city. Up here it's quiet, but not silent - it's not an absence of sound, but an absence of people, and looking down on Baedal from the vantage point of the highest natural point in the only landscape they have available makes it feel like another world.

Remarkable.