Emrys hesitates for just a heartbeat, before he takes her offered hand. His hand is — frankly — pretty damn big, a proper reflection of his sheer height.

Awful? He looks around. Looks like most any other city he’s travelled to. Perhaps a little less plasma burned, actually.

Gotham. Interesting.

He wonders what year it might be. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s had weirdness like this happen.

His shoulders twitch in a silent laugh.

Maybe!

A vague motion to the area around him, he can’t help but ask.

Where are we?

Fingers touch near the front of his helmet, hand flat, moving outwards.

Thank you!

Motioning to the side of his head, then nearish to where his mouth would be, he shakes his head once more.

His posture straightens a bit, and he finger spells her name quickly.

H-A-R-L-E-Y

Then he points at himself again, and finger spells his own name, a fair bit slower.

E-M-R-Y-S

Head still tilted as it was, he shakes it no. One hand, palm down, raises to about her height, then points to himself, then raises to his own height. Seems he’s actually that tall. Seven feet, and a few inches.

The armored Spartan tilts his helmeted head, then nods enthusiastically before gesturing with one hand. His fingertips tap against approximately where his temple would be.

#Myth🖤

awful. Love it