Captcha fic 2- commuter Mr -She sees them all, depending on the day.Midnight to three there are the drunks who don't want to go home yet. The happy drunks are all right, but they don't often have much money left by then. The angry ones, the ones dumped by girlfriends or the losers of fights - they're the worst. She counts herself lucky if the marks fade quickly.Two to six is when the truckers come by on their way to pick up or drop off whatever. Sometimes all they want is someone to talk to, a pathetic substitute for the wife left behind. Other times she feels like G-18 on some travel bingo card. Lots of them have speed, though, which is a nice bonus.From seven to eleven she can maybe get some sleep. Or eat. Both, if she's feeling ambitious.Lunch hour onward is busy. The white collars typically start things off, sneaking off for their "meetings" and "appointments". The blue collars come later, wanting a pick-me-up before going out with the guys, or back to the ball and chain at home. Then come
Captcha fic 1- birth minutia -"What? What did I do?"Daniel is following him down the stairs, past the Owlship, catches up with him in the tunnel."Please, Rorschach, I don't understand what's made you so upset?"The distress is genuine; he can hear it. He stops, but does not turn around. Daniel is wise and does not touch him."Prying, Daniel. Multiple times now.""Because I asked you where you're from?" Bewilderment now, layered on top of the distress. Either he truly doesn't understand or he is much better at lying than he seemed to be."And eye color. And family. And habits." It's obvious their partnership can't continue.Wh-- Rorschach, that wasn't prying, I was just... trying to get to know you, just a little! You're my partner, we watch each other's backs - and hell, I like you! You're my friend, that's what friends do!"A small sliver of doubt slips in and his step falters. Daniel's voice is still ringing true.'That's what friends do'....He wouldn't know.