[ this is not the first time he's been knocked out and kidnapped. it's not the first time he's been drugged, either. in a little over a year of being batman, he's run the gamut, really. so although he's disturbed by the unfamiliar environment, troubled that he doesn't really recall what happened before, and fucking thrilled with the effects of the drug, he's not freaking out. this is not his first rodeo, as the old saying goes.

so he's quiet--he doesn't have much choice there--and he watches, blue eyes almost eerily observant as he takes in the guards, the boat, the docking, his fellow.. prisoners?

he's even quiet long after the guards have left them in the bakery, which would have been unheard of for terry just a few months ago. that all changes the first time someone turns to him, whether to check on him or speak or otherwise. he immediately throws a hand up between them. ] Ah-ah-ah-- [ and deliberately phrasing it as a question instead of the statement he wants it to be: ] Would you like to consider how you should say whatever you're gonna' say?

[ please don't--accidentally or otherwise--make him do some dumb dreg, he's had a long day. ]

[ that first meal comes in handy, largely because this seems to be a pretty popular place, and people are talking. so because terry's supposed to be an exhausted college student anyway, he just folds his arms atop a table and drops his face down into them to listen to the conversations going on around him. with any luck, he'll at least pick up something he can use. if not, well, maybe sitting quietly with his eyes closed will help him get over the lingering nausea from the drugging and the weeks--months?--of minimal sleep he's endured lately.

of course, it does give off the impression that he's maybe upset or freaked out. ... and it does leave his meal off to the side at the table getting cold. so. ]

[ terry is mostly accustomed to keeping a night schedule. most of the crime he deals with happens at night--though it's neo gotham, so realistically, it's 24/7--so he's used to long hours on patrol, a few hours of sleep with dawn a hint on the horizon of the upper levels, then a long day of classes which he may or may not doze off in. sometimes if he's lucky--or unlucky, depending on how exhausted he is--he spends a little time with friends or his mom and brother.

ultimately, what all of this means is that a.) it doesn't take terry long to get restless, and b.) while most everyone else in the safehouse is sleeping, he's tossing, turning, and generally miserable.

eventually, he gets up, and someone in a cot nearby may find him.. upside down? he's in a handstand off to the side a little, oversized shirt he's sleeping in knotted at the bottom of his ribs to keep it from falling over his head. it does reveal a good portion of his abdomen, though, as well as a series of scars--here and there across all his visible skin--that were probably pretty nasty when they were new, but he's pretty sure they all have more important concerns here than the identity of a superhero most of them have probably never heard of before.

he shifts, pointing his toes, feet parting to shift his weight as he goes to one hand, and that's when he notices someone else awake. ]

Oh, [ he says a little awkwardly, though to his benefit, his balance doesn't waver. ] Uh. Hey. This isn't what it looks like. [ a beat, considering that, before amending: ] Scratch that, it's exactly what it looks like.

[ terry seems to be everywhere after they're finally released from the safehouse, but given the restless energy he'd displayed the last day or so, that's probably only to be expected. he's quick to lend a hand in handing out food or learning a little plumbing--you never know when the information could be handy--but maybe where he's put to the best use is in dealing with the groups of violent, traumatized soldiers.

sure, from what he's heard, they probably all need years of therapy, but they can't get that out on the streets causing problems and hurting people. so although terry doesn't have the suit, any of his gear, or dick's steady voice in his ear when he needs information, he's not exactly helpless. he was a shitty punk before he got his life back on track, and he's taken to dick's acrobatic style like a duck to water.

not to sound arrogant or anything, but these guys just had no idea what they were messing with when they sent the first punch flying toward terry's head.

he ducks, weaving through them, using their momentum against one another as he flips over a stumbling figure, knocking what looks like a makeshift bat out of their hand and snatching it up himself. he knocks the guy out with a well-aimed and satisfying bonk of wood hitting a body just right. ] Come on, guys! [ he dances back, out of the way of a charging body, tripping them as they pound past him, sending the figure sprawling. ] I've seen scarier guys in clown makeup back in Gotham!

[ prompt.. me? or hmu: metamorphmagus | manxome#3644 ]