The guy's fucked. Logically, Tim knows it. Pinned to a fire escape while the whole building shudders precariously with each distant shock of bombs or whatever the hell else Atlas's guys thought to lob their way - there's no easy way out of this.
"I know!" He brushes fingers over the knob to the building and snatches them back immediately with a soft hiss of pain. Hot, fucking hot, and there's no way in through the door. The window on the bottom story is open, though, gaping wide and belching out the thick gray smoke that's gradually filling the air and making it impossibly hard to breathe.
So, potentially, possibly - he could find a way in. And, even less possibly, a way out, assuming the window stays open.
Tim squeezes his eyes shut. He's not about to do this on some stranger's behalf.
Except he opens his eyes and he is, moving blindly forward because the flickering panic on the doomed bastard's face is just too goddamn reminiscent of a certain other skinny idiot for Tim to ignore. He's been through worse, hasn't he? Wouldn't be the first burning building he's torn his way out of.
"Wait there!" he commands, and who knows if fire-escape-guy can even hear him at this point. Tim charges ahead, clambers through the window, and makes it clean to the other side. His back hits white tile, warmed to a temperature just short of unbearable, while flames cough up flaking puffs of ash from the skeletal remains of what had probably once been a 50's style living room.
Stairs. Next goal. There's gotta be stairs somewhere he can use. Please let there be some still intact, some that can support his weight.
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
"I know!" He brushes fingers over the knob to the building and snatches them back immediately with a soft hiss of pain. Hot, fucking hot, and there's no way in through the door. The window on the bottom story is open, though, gaping wide and belching out the thick gray smoke that's gradually filling the air and making it impossibly hard to breathe.
So, potentially, possibly - he could find a way in. And, even less possibly, a way out, assuming the window stays open.
Tim squeezes his eyes shut. He's not about to do this on some stranger's behalf.
Except he opens his eyes and he is, moving blindly forward because the flickering panic on the doomed bastard's face is just too goddamn reminiscent of a certain other skinny idiot for Tim to ignore. He's been through worse, hasn't he? Wouldn't be the first burning building he's torn his way out of.
"Wait there!" he commands, and who knows if fire-escape-guy can even hear him at this point. Tim charges ahead, clambers through the window, and makes it clean to the other side. His back hits white tile, warmed to a temperature just short of unbearable, while flames cough up flaking puffs of ash from the skeletal remains of what had probably once been a 50's style living room.
Stairs. Next goal. There's gotta be stairs somewhere he can use. Please let there be some still intact, some that can support his weight.
This can't just be for nothing.