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╰┈➤❝ [happiness, when it's done right, is a kind of holiness.] ❞ ╰┈➤ mary oliver
HER HANDS WIPED AT HER DRESS, SIGHING AT THE FAINT WRINKLES IN THE BOTTOM. People crowded all over, filling the sides to get a glimpse at the casket or of Gotham's elite that made their way to pay their respects. Her parents were somewhere outside of the building, chatting with others and getting their photos taken by the journalists and paparazzi that clamored for photos of the event. A small finger poked at her thigh, pulling her attention back to the young boy. His mother had given him a crossword puzzle to do while waiting for others to arrive. Her eyes narrowed as she read the question his finger pointed at. "It's Skywalker." Her finger ran along the long line, making sure the letters fit. She spelled the word out, watching his messy handwriting fills the spaces.
"What's that?" His eyebrows furrowed as he finished writing. His eyes looked up at her with confusion. She chuckled, crossing her legs and pushing a piece of hair out of her face. "Is that a type of car?"
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she held back another laugh. It'd be horribly awkward if she were laughing at a funeral - the mayor's funeral, of all. "He's a guy in a really popular movie. We'll have to watch it someday." Her arm rested across the back of his chair as she watched him shrug and continue his crossword.
Her eyes looked around the building. So many people were crowded inside. A few police officers chatted to the side of the walkpath between the two sections of chairs. Her eyes lingered on Lieutenant Gordon for a fleeting moment. Their eyes met for a moment. He offered a small smile and a wave. She reciprocated both. She'd always liked Gordon, what little the two had interacted. One night, after a frat party where Phoebe had ditched her, she had gotten her purse stolen. Gordon had still been a detective then; apparently he had pissed some higher up off and gotten thrown on street duty. He was kind to her, that's what she remembered the most.
Looking back, she stared back at the entrance of the building where a few people trickled in. The memorial wasn't scheduled to start for another twenty minutes, but she had insisted on getting there much earlier. Mostly so she could see Tim and be there for him. "Miss Dumont," a voice grabbed her attention, "I was hoping to speak with you for a moment? I hate to do this here, but both of your parents look the other way when they see me coming." Bella Reál. New mayor-elect. Not like there was anyone to run against anymore. Siobhan liked the woman - she'd put money that Bella was probably one of the only people actually capable of being a fair mayor. But everyone had said that about Don Mitchell, too. People changed when they tasted a little power. "I was hoping that maybe you'd be a little different."
