Only Waiting (OPEN)

[Michael Smith]

Funny little people with their funny little problems in their funny little lives. Funny little people running around the city as though their business was actually important. Michael hated these people. They were so ordinary. So boring. Ordinary people with an ordinary set of tasks for the day. So ordinary. So boring. He'd spent his life in the pages of distractions. In the pages of books, of stories, of words that wrapped around his mind and gave him ideas. Millions of ideas that warped and twisted and settled and ran and turned and twirled and danced through his mind. They twisted into whatever he needed them to twist into. Ideas for his client, for his customer, for whatever they required. Little ideas from little stories of little people in little castles and cottages. Funny little ideas from funny little stories of funny little people...

Funny little people...

Michael looked around him with his hands in his pockets. He was stood on a street corner, being ignored by everyone he could see. Of course, he couldn't see everyone, but those he could see seemed to be ignoring him. He was fine with this, of course. He observed. He watched. He deduced and then he manipulated. It was what he was good at. What he could do easily. Though he could also act and steal and plot and plan. He could also lie and smile and dance and sing. He could act confident, he could act self-conscious, he could act like he didn't have a care in the world... And he didn't.

Turning on the spot, Michael used this to get a better look at those around him. The suit-clad man didn't seem to be suspicious to anyone, though there were plenty of people in suits with slicked back hair. Not as many people around him were in light grey, three piece suits, though. That didn't matter to him. He didn't care. If people noticed then they noticed. If they didn't, then they didn't. It didn't matter to him and he didn't exactly want to hide. He had no reason to. He'd spent the past three years hiding, waiting, watching, debating with himself, thinking of whether or not he wanted to go forward for something bigger - something better - than he'd ever done before. He could do it, too. It wasn't difficult. It was easy. So easy. It would scare them, too, he suspected. The funny little people with their funny little brains. What was it like in their funny little brains? He did have to wonder...

Turned back to the direction he was looking in moments before, Michael pulled a small piece of mint gum out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and put it into his mouth before chewing casually. His gaze flicked from one person to another, watching them, dancing from each figure to the next, never lingering on one. The human the gaze belonged to stayed still, though, enjoying this. Enjoying the people watching. Enjoying the chance to just stop and watch and think and imagine. Imagine if there was a chance of anything bigger than what he'd done before was possible. Oh, the things he could do... If only he had the money.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket - an iPhone though not the latest version - Michael glanced around and caught sight of a bank. He put the phone onto the camera mode, waited for a second while trying to look like he was just checking something with a confused expression, and took a photo of the bank. He could look it up later, when he wasn't surrounded by funny little people with their funny little problems in their funny little lives...

[Jane Reid]

So this was where her brother lived...how like him... She humphed a bit, smirking as she looked around, taking in the people bustling about and the man on the street corner, looking at his phone with a rather confused expression. The smirk grew as she thought thoughts about nontechnical people, rolling her eyes and skipping slightly through the crowds, not paying any heed to those around her, sending no one a second glance.

She glanced about again, slowing to a stop and taking in the sights of the city. A police cruiser roared past with its dancing lights and wailing sirens, rounding the corner and vanishing into the alley way. Another followed loudly in its wake. No one paid the two vehicles much mind, so the woman inferred that the sounds of panic were a well known sound here in Gotham City, home of Matthew Spencer Reid, brother to Jane Susanna Reid.

Absently she found her eyes darting about, looking for the ominous building where her brother worked. Her smirk faltered a bit, a spark of anger erupting through her chest. She hated asylums. She had a special dislike for them thanks to her brother and his placing their mother in that god-forsaken place. She shook her head a bit, red hair falling across her face as she did so. She jerked her head to rid the hair from her face, continuing on her way after stuffing her hands in her pockets, stopping at a corner and waiting for the walk signal with a group of other boring people.

A man in a business suit was glancing anxiously at his watch and then back up at the signal that would tell him when he was allowed to walk and then back down at the time keeper on his wrist, shifting impatiently. Jane found herself hoping that the walk wouldn't come soon just to agitate him more.

There was a dark haired woman, her jeans ripped and her hair ruffled and ear buds blaring some metal music, breaking through the calm of the air. The woman with the red hair began casually tapping her foot to the beat of the bass from the ear buds. The walk signal at last flashed to life and the man who'd been eyeing his watch shot across without a second thought. Jane began to follow more slowly, in no hurry.

(NOTES: I HAVE BEEN PRODUCTIVE!!)