You see the Riddler in the streets. You nod as you walk past, but he stops and stares. You stop too, turning to face him. You maintain eye contact. You blink; he’s gone, leaving just a puff of green smoke which disappears in seconds.
It is early in the morning (or late at night. You can not tell), and stick your head out of the window, feeling the wind on your skin and hearing the almost silent city quiet, little noises. A black cat runs past you, and you follow it with your head, smiling quietly. The cat returns after leaving for ten minutes (exact), and you place a bowl of milk on your window ledge. The cat eagerly drinks, and soon, there’s a woman standing over you. She nods, though her face remains emotionless. She leaves, and the cat is now gone too.
There’s a man in the bookstore; he’s the only other person in the aisle (and maybe the shop, if you don’t count the shopkeeper; speaking of them, where did they go?). You are meters away, not even that, and you both go to grab the same book; Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland. You do not remember wanting that book, or even reaching for it. You retrieve your hand, and the other man smiles an insane kind of grin, and you back away, though do not feel terrified like you should. He leaves first; you continue browsing as if nothing had happened.
A coin lands in front of you as you walk down the street, creating a small crack in the pavement. You look up to the sky; you see nothing. You look forward again, about to continue your journey, but another man is there. He is not who he was trying to imitate (he is not two-face). You ask for his name but he just grabs the coin, winks, and disappears (you do not know how. He was just gone. There is no explanation).
You walk into the butchers, hoping to buy some beef for your Sunday dinner. No one is at the counter and it is deadly silent; you decide to explore. You lift up the hatch, walking through into the back room. Carcases of pigs and sheep hang from the metal hooks, and you shiver from the cold. An icy figure is watching you, with glowing red eyes. You run away. He does not follow.
A crow perches on your shoulder. You have no idea where she came from but you continue with your day as if it is normal (by now, it is). She squarks, makes as much noise as her little body can, but you just turn your music up louder (since when did you listen to Taylor Swift?). The crow, the next time you check, is gone; you feel strangely empty. You are all alone, never to find a friend again.
You visit a makeup salon. A man is there, face full of white (skin) and red (lips), with a side of green (hair), and he smiles, nods, g r i n s. He says something, his voice soothing and convincing; you don’t quite catch what he says, though don’t ask him to repeat himself. Instead, you frown, make yourself angry, turn away and run away. You do not know what caused this reaction. You forget about this encounter.
Pink and blue; pink and blue; pink and blue and PUDDING. One time, she is happy. One time, she is sad. She is unpredictable. Somehow, you are scared of her the most. She gives you a sweet (offers, really). You accept, gratefully, though do not eat. You throw it on the ground (in grass). A plant starts to grow. Ah. So a trick from her girlfriend (goddess).
The real ‘coin man’ is here (you can not say his name; he will find you). His face is missing, and now so is yours. Goodbye, face. You can no longer smile; you can no longer laugh; everything hurts but it is also painless. Goodbye, face.
The sewers smell bad today. You do not care, yet your neighbour does. He is now gone. He is now a crocodile. This is okay. This is normal. (Why do people still live in Gotham City?)
A penguin (but a man) is here. His nose is pointy, but not. You have mixed feelings about him. He orders a scotch (you are not a bartender; you are now a bartender), and you rush to make one. You slide it across the bar; he takes small sips. He remains there hours, still on his first drink (still on his shot of scotch). “You wanna ‘nother?” You ask, and your voice is no longer your own (not your accent, not your way of speech. It is fine. It happens all the time recently). He does not nod or shake his head; he is emotionless (but full of little emotions). You give him a beer (or wine; you can not tell). It is gone, though no one touches it. You nod. He does not nod (yet, he does at the same time). You are gone.
A lady (a goddess) dresses in green. She is in your room (or your garden; you can’t tell. All you know is that everything is ivy green). Her voice is powerful, perfect, and luring as she sings to the pink (not green, not green) flowers, which are growing faster and slower than you’ve ever seen. You, for some reason, pick a leaf of a plant. She turns; she glares. You feel a stabbing pain; you cry out. She does not disappear as (some) of the other did. She stands over you as you collapse to the floor. She is your demise.
i know you’d think he’d be a dog person but i just called dibs, he’s a cat person
-he can appreciate how fun it is to be fucking obnoxious
(cat: knocks something off the table) (mccree: haha i feel u bud)
-he doesn’t mind other people being obnoxious
(cat: knocks something important off the table) (mccree: NO…. fuck…. aww i can’t stay mad at that face)
-cats are totally a common animal around barns to keep away the mice so it’s not like it DOESN’T fit his cowboy aesthetic
-cat people think dogs are also cool, while dog people think cats are the devil, and mccree obviously thinks dogs are also cool
-he would try to make friends with stray cats no matter how hissy they are, and cry when they run away before he can pet them
-mccree and the cat take lazy afternoon naps in the sunlight together
-people expect him to have a dog and then he has a hissy old cat and they’re like “???” and he’s like “LOOK AT HER SHE’S BEAUTIFUL”
-mccree copies his cat’s meows and the cat looks at him like “wtf” and he’s like “cmon haven’t you ever heard a cat with a southern accent before”
-it’s fun how super affectionate dogs r sure but it’s also fun how unpredictably affectionate cats are ya know??
(mccree: SHE JUST LICKED MY HAND SHE LOVES ME!! HOLY SHIT!!!!! im never washing this hand again)
(the cat always sits on his lap within five minutes of when he sits down but she does it so casual like, like he should be honored she chose him even though she always does, and he’s like FUCK YEAH I’M HONORED!!!! MY CAT’S ON MY LAP RIGHT NOW I’M SO HASHTAG BLESSED)
-he dies at how precious kittens are
-he gives all the kittens names like “deathclaw” and “the destructionater” and encourages them to devour his enemies
-picture mccree waking up after a bad night and then his cat sidles into the room all casual like and starts rubbing her head at his hand
(this cat things i’m good. she doesn’t warm up to everyone but she spends time with me. she thinks i’m special. she thinks i’m good.)