One man's trash is a hatchling's treasure [OPEN]

[notaneggbaby]

Characters: Conrit Ceto AND YOU!
Location: Metal Sector, in the alleys behind various businesses
Situation: Little Mr. Ceto has decided to go dumpster diving. He's specifically looking for any burnt and thrown away food, but also for anything that could aid a homeless kid-- gloves, scarves, extra shoes. You can never have too many shoes.
Warnings/Rating: None! BTW, feel free to either prose or action spam, I'll follow suit!

The last time Conrit had found himself staring down the alien streets of a city he'd never been to before, it had been nearly three months ago. Spring had come and the nip of winter was fading, which was a good thing. He hadn't had much in the line of clothing to bundle up in, and for his kind, even a balmy spring morning meant a shiver or two.

He was looking forward to summer in the city, of convincing his brother not to send him home to the harsh, inhospitable mountains of their home. Not that he didn't miss his family-- he did, tremendously-- but Conrit had gotten used to Nieve. If Ladon took him home, there was no telling when he would be able to come back.

And then... this had happened.

To be honest, he was still in shock, and doing as he'd learned on the streets of Nieve more out of a need to do something than because he really should. Thankfully, an alley was an alley was an alley, and trash was relatively the same. He could pretend for a few moments that he hadn't washed up ashore somewhere completely different for a little while, until he was able to cope with it. Until then, he'd look for what he could use in the bins full of the things others had cast off. If he was lucky, he could socks and gloves to layer on and keep warm if he's chilled, and maybe even something to eat.

He started rustling through the paper bags and garbage from a restaurant, looking for anything charred or that he could ferret away and burn up later.

Comments

[cowled]

[Bruce was always alert to the sounds of the street, the back alleys and alcoves that other people ignored or overlooked. Even as Bruce Wayne, because there was no telling when a situation might happen that needed the attention of the Batman.

Today, he was on his way back from work when he noticed it. A slight rustle, out of place amidst the usual noises of an early afternoon. He stopped, glanced both ways along the street and then slid unobtrusively into the alleyway.

Anything out of the ordinary was worth investigating, in his opinion. And this investigation brought him up short.

A child?

Bruce's eyes narrowed. Hard to tell if it was a kedan or one of the foreigners, though if it was the latter why on earth would the child be rummaging through trash? Every foreigner was supplied with a set amount of money to use at their discretion--

Either way.]

Are you lost?

[... a safe question, and without the low-pitched growl necessary to Batman.]

[notaneggbaby]

[ Conrit jumped the moment he heard the voice, looked up with a deer-in-the-headlights stare and the expression of someone caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The cookie jar here happened to be a garbage tin, though, and he was elbows-deep in the thing. He extracted himself slowly, backing up a couple paces. Usually, this was when the yelling started, once the confusion as to what he was doing cleared. The owners of restaurants and stands and such in Nieve were almost as offended by kids going through their trash as they were when robbed. Conrit was used to the yelling, and then to the chasing, and sometimes getting caught.

He braced himself, watching the man and cautiously holding the half-burnt chicken breast he'd found against his chest. ]

N-no. Sir.

[cowled]

[Bruce crouches down so he's a little closer to Conrit's height. Keyword there being 'a little'.]

My name's Bruce. It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you. May I see that a little closer?

[He gestures at the chicken breast. No, he doesn't want to take it, merely to look at it.]

[notaneggbaby]

[ Conrit backs up a little because, well. Despite the fact that he's being friendly, there are a million alarms going off in Conrit's head. The first is, of course, that there is a stranger talking to him and that can be a Very Bad Thing on the streets back in Nieve and-- he has to assume-- here as well. The second is the one he's had since he was an eggbaby, the fear and awe and general enigma surrounding humans. It's enough that he has to swallow back a growl and instead hold the food closer to himself. This could keep him alive for a few days. He's not about to surrender it that easily. ]

Um. No one else's gonna wanna eat it. Sir.

[ Mine mine mine mine. ]

[cowled]

[He holds his hands out, palm-up in a non-threatening little half-shrug.]

Mm, I believe you. But you see, I'm worried. Some of the food around here is really only good for kedan, and there's a very specific way of telling.

[notaneggbaby]

How?

[ Not surrendering that chicken breast. Nope. ]