lisa's chrimbo feels ;-;

[keystone extended living center // late afternoon]

Lisa's always hated senior homes. No, seriously. They suck. Part of her is glad that she didn't have to visit her grandfather in a place like this. Unseasonably warm; probably to keep everyone's bones from freezing off and letting disease fester long enough to open up a few more rooms. Flourescent lights buzzing down at you from the pock-marked ceiling, the unnatural glow an incessant reminder that everyone within the building is simply deigning to be here. It was starting to give her a headache. Despite her choice in attire- the usual hoodie and black tights peeking past gold leg warmers; she was still looked upon with suspicion, and her criminal record makes everyone hesitant to approach. Lisa's left there to wait for a visitor's pass, one knee bouncing a small package in her lap. Five minutes. Then ten. Twenty. Instead of waiting to start counting the hours, she sighs and sinks through the floor. It's what she gets for trying to do things the 'right' way. Treated like a criminal instead of a person, but what else was new? Cue an unseen eyeroll. Poking her head through the wall of the nurse's station, she uses a ribbon to flip through a patient directory until she reaches the letter 'S.' Second floor, suite 134. Presses her tendril to the page until the imprint of the ink seeps into the bandage, which she promptly tears off and stuffs into her hoodie pocket for safekeeping. Then, she circles the building until she reaches her destination. Well, maybe she'll circle the building one more time, just to make sure that there aren't any stray clowns hanging out around here or something. A soft, golden light taps at the window of suite 134, remaining there... she probably waited longer outside than she did in the waiting room, but being forced to take pause is inherently different from taking one of your own. Of all the walls she's phased through, this one is by far the most difficult. Peering through the frost encrusted panes and past the cheap, dust coated blinds- she finally finds what she was looking for. An older gentleman, alone beneath the confines of a thin clinical blanket and the vines of intravenous tubing. She shouldn't have come here tonight; but to be honest it was one of her only chances to do so before Christmas. Bao went back to Gotham to visit his loved ones, Frosty had things to pick up for her experiments and Ono-- well she never really knows where Ono goes when he leaves the hideout, but something tells her that the best option is not to pry. She was the leader of the Rogues, not their dictator. What they did on their own time was their business, just like she was doing now- the only thing that really mattered was that they came home at the end of the night. The flicker of a television skirts her focus to the right of the window, and she has to hold onto the side of the building to steady herself once she realizes what he'd been watching. It was... her. A younger, brighter version of the Lisa you see before you today, gliding along the ice for a crowd of adoring fans. This was an old recording; but she remembers this instance like it was yesterday. Nationals. Dad was too drunk to leave the trailer that day, so she had to take a bus to the stadium on her own. Lenny had already been gone for a year, so she'd been supporting herself by getting a job as a bartender at the Keystone Saloon. The tips weren't great and the clientele were even less to write home about... but at least it gave her some disposable income so she wouldn't watch her meal budget go down her father's throat again. The thought made her fist clench in anger, but when her gaze drifts back to the man in the hospital bed it loosens, and her gaze drops to the ground. Lisa's always harbored an outward indifference to the world around her. A thin veneer covering the heart she wears on her sleeve. The one person that caused her so much suffering, so much <b>hurt.</b> No one would notice if she flipped the switch on his life support. She doubted anyone else would even care... but as she begins to phase through the bricks and out of the bitter December chill... she stops. Package in hand, watching the old man as his breath rises and falls in idle slumber. "Hey Dad," she says, dropping the parcel on a bedside table. He probably wouldn't wake up. "Got you a Hannukah present that also counts as a Christmas present. I know you hate the holidays, but-" she pauses, likely to construct a response to herself in her head. A ribbon immediately swipes a tear away from her eye before it has the chance to breach the confines of her vision. Dad never liked it when she cried. If she did, he'd only beat the idea further into her head. Lenny learned not to cry. His heart froze over long ago-- but she never learned, no matter how many bruises she got. "I know how much you hate being alone even more." Leaning over the bed, she wraps her arms around the old man's thin frame, fighting all of her urges to break down then and there. "My birthday's in a couple of months, now. I'll make sure to visit then, too. Okay?" Tilts her head up to place a kiss on his cheek, voice wavering the entire time. All she ever wanted was the opportunity to show her love to people. It's just a shame that circumstance had to tear them away from her. The old man begins to stir, and she wipes the gloss away from her cheeks, floating back and away. "I should get going." The orderlies were beginning their rounds and you could hear one talking to another resident through the thin walls. "I love you, Dad. Miss you every single day." Sure, her family was trailer trash. Garbage. The worst of the worst. But they were all she had, and she would never throw something so important to her away. Not by a long shot. With one bittersweet glance over her shoulder, feet leave the floor and she begins to drift back out into the crisp air of the winter evening. Not long after this, a nurse's clinical knock echoes through the room and life returns to its original routes. The old man's eyes ignore the scrub-clad orderly and focus on the gift... <b>"Lisa..."</b> his strained words finally whisper to no one in particular. She was too far away to hear them; probably for the best. Some things are better loved at a distance, even during the holidays.