Commissioner James Gordon (lastgoodcop) wrote in gotham_lights,
Commissioner James Gordon
lastgoodcop
gotham_lights

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November 29th - Noonish

James Gordon rides the elevated train through the center of Gotham, the sleek rail design vivisecting its way past towering office buildings done in both New and Old World motifs. He prefers this mode of transportation to a standard car for many reasons. The train was not belabored by traffic jams (though the occasional delay has caused many a wrinkle in his brow), and it offered him an unobstructed view of the great city in ways that ground transport could not. Gordon loves Gotham; for all of its pitfalls and shady dealings, there was nothing like the heartbeat of Gotham Square, its people and presence. He's seen Chicago; bided his time in Metropolis. But this -- the great mecca of the modern and civilized era -- could not barter for a fonder place in the old guy's heart.

He disembarks on Fleet Street, hands shoved into the pockets of his wool coat, steps sure and directional on the cracked pavement. The discovery of the body in the Harbor troubles him. The ME had volunteered his best estimate as to the cause and manner of death, but they wouldn't know anything definitive until the toxicology screen came back. Which could take another couple of hours. Jim supposes that the science isn't as expedient as, say, a one-hour photo kiosk, but his department thrives on results.

The brownstone he shares with his daughter is among the nicer flats on this particular block. A fine, wrought iron gate stands sentry at the hedge of a modest lawn, a paved sidewalk leading up to a short three-step porch. Barbara's bike leans against the interior fence, the chrome glinting brightly in the midday sun. Jim smiles. It was fortunate that his daughter's rigorous academic schedule and his bustling day at the precinct coincided in a shared hour-and-a-half lunch. Sometimes Jim wouldn't get home until the wee hours of the morning, and by that time his daughter would already be in bed. This was a golden opportunity for the two of them to catch up; for Jim to make good on his "diligent dad" duties.

He steps up the walk and turns his key in the door, calling out to the spacious foyer: "Babs? You home?"

(open to dojobookworm)
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