master_bruce | OOM: Date

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OOM: Date

He's more nervous about this than he'd care to admit. It's not helped by the fact that when the time came to go and meet X, he couldn't find a route to the bar. He'd resorted to opening every door in Wayne Manor and...well. It's a really big house.

Eventually, it was the front door that gave in and put him out of his misery. So he'd taken a breath and gone on through, dressed casually in jeans and a plain, untucked, white shirt and sneakers. It had taken a while to decide on what to wear because he had no way of predicting what she would wear and had guessed, in the end, that she'll opt for casual as well. Especially as they talked about sparring. And...caves. Maybe.

So, here he is. Jeans and combed hair, clean shaved and just a dash of expensive cologne, opening the door from Milliways onto the expanse of entrance hall that welcomes people to Wayne Manor.

There is also an Alfred, which he was not expecting. An enquiring look at his friend receives a silent reply of I know when you're getting ready to meet a young lady, Master Bruce, conveyed neatly with just the lifting of one corner of his mouth.

Bruce looks at X, slightly off-stride already.

'This is Alfred. Alfred, this is...X.'

If the man looks suprised at the name, nothing shows. He's far too professional for that.

'A pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Is there anything you require?'

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He laughs, just a little.

'Well, they all are aren't they? Or I wouldn't ask them.'

"Maybe," she says, very seriously.

Then she falls silent again, considering.

And after a moment --

"You do not teach?"

He shakes his head, grabbing a towel to rub moisture off his forehead.

'No. I've never really thought about it. I figure I'm still learning myself.'

Seven years of the sort of training he's done means he'd be ideally qualified. And he knows he's good (at least by regular human standards) but taking a student has never occured to him.

'And I wouldn't encourage anyone to...' he breaks off, unsure how to word it.

'I don't know. It's a personal thing, why I started this.'

Sharing it with a novice wouldn't seem right.

X herself is barely perspiring, breath coming slow and even.

She is still watching Bruce.

"I am allowed to ask?"

It is better not to guess.

His eyes flick up to her, a touch surprised. He'd zoned out for just a couple of seconds there, thinking about...well, all of it.

'You can ask whatever you like.'

"Okay."

She still sounds a little uncertain, but maybe that will pass.

"Why did you start? This."

He half-smiles, a resigned sort of gesture because he could have guessed that was coming. But it's OK and he gestures for her to sit, if she'd like. He himself slides down the wall and puts the soles of his feet together, stretching out his quads as he thinks of what to say.

He wants to trust her with this. He thinks she might understand, to a degree.

'You remember when we first met in the bar? I had a gun and told you I was going to kill someone.'

He's glad he didn't. Glad, and still wishes he had. Sometimes.

'His name was Joe Chill. When I was eight years old...'

He blinks, his head jerks and for a second, he's there again, in that alley.

'...we'd been to an opera. I'd got scared and asked my dad if we could go. So we left and Chill...'

He blinks again and looks up at her, back in the room again.

'...he shot them. Robbed them and shot them. And...they died. Right there.'

He swallows and tries to lighten up. But he's still angry. And still guilty. He can't help it.

'The day we met, they let him out of prison. He agreed to give information about a crime boss in the city and they let him go. Someone else killed him before I could and when I went to see that crime boss, he pointed out to me that I knew nothing about the underworld. I knew nothing about crime, or defending people or why criminals did what they did.'

He's suddenly very aware that he's talking a lot and possibly not answering her question. Also aware that this is a date and he shouldn't lay it on so thick.

'So I decided to learn and went away for seven years.'

Simple, right?

X drops down to sit cross-legged at about the point that Bruce starts stretching.

It is fortunate that listening is one of her strengths. And what he says makes previous comments make more sense.

That is good.

And once Bruce is done speaking --

"It was different. For me."

It wasn't criminals X had to learn to understand, for one. And large swathes of Bruce's story -- the part about his parents -- that is still not something X really understands. Not like that. But some of it --

"But I think you will be good. At helping people."

Words are not her strong suit. It shows.

"If you do not get angry. When you are fighting. When it is -- "

Beat.

" -- real. It will be better if you do not get killed, too."

He's talked too much. He has a tendency to do that when he gets going - just as well that he doesn't often start, probably.

'Not planning on getting killed.'

He's embarrassed at the emotion he showed. And hopes he didn't make her uncomfortable.

'How was it different for you? Because of the people who created you?'

"Good," she says firmly.

Then she pauses, gaze flicking from Bruce to the tatami mat and back again.

There are a lot of things she could say here, about her mother -- about how she was not a mother at all, not really -- about her cousin, about what they made her do.

But she does not. Not yet.

"Yes. Because of the Facility. I do not have parents."

She never had a father, at least. And her mother --

Well.

"I do not think friends are the same."

Bruce looks at her closely, wondering what she's not saying.

'No, I don't think they are either.'

He remembers her telling him that she was made to kill for this Facility. And how she chose not to do it any more.

'Did you have anyone? When you were young, I mean.'

"My sensei," X says, after a moment of thought.

"And Doctor Kinney read me Pinocchio. She was my mother."

Beat.

"I do not think she was a very good one."

'...you call your mom 'Doctor Kinney'?'

Somehow, he can't imagine X using the term 'mom' at all but that's hardly the point.

'What was wrong with her?'

X looks at him, head tilted ever so slightly.

"She used me, too."

It sounds so simple.

(It wasn't.)

He wants to know if she's still alive but it would seem quite a crass question.

'Do you still see her?'

X moves one hand toward the locket at her throat, then stops.

"No."

Beat.

"They made me kill her. When she helped me escape."

Edited 2010-05-24 23:37 (UTC)

'...shit.'

He's amazed she can say it so calmly. Just thinking about the way his mother died makes him burn with anger, let alone talking about it. That she can be so cool...

'There was no way to avoid it?'

"They made me."

It is not that she thinks the repetition will help, but --

She does not talk about the trigger scent. At all.

"But they are dead now, too."

This hesitation lasts longer than the others.

"I am not an animal."

'I know,' he says, immediately.

'I know you're not.'

And he does.

Also, much as he doesn't like the thought of killing there are some people that probably deserve it and it sounds like thats the case here. Except her mother. Not her.

"Do not forget."

It is a request, not a command.

(She worries. Sometimes.)

X studies him again for a few long moments, gaze level.

Then --

"There are other questions?"

Beat.

"I am not good at small talk."

'I won't forget,' he says, quietly.

And he lets her study him and returns the look, holding her eyes easily.

'Small talk is overrated. Most dates are difficult enough without talking about the weather. So my next question is,'

He stands up and holds out his hand to her, to help her up.

'...are you hungry?'

"I do not think the weather is relevant."

At least until they decide to

She looks at his outstretched hand for a long moment before lifting her own to meet it.

It is only polite.

(Though she does try to do most of the work in standing up. It is not difficult.)

"Food is okay. Now. If you are hungry, too."

For a minute, he thinks he's offended her by offering his hand. But its out there now and he doesn't retract it (definitely a bit relieved when she takes it though).

'Starving.'

He looks down at his clothes.

'Would you prefer to eat here or go out? I don't mind either way.'

X flicks a glance at his clothes, as well. She does not need to look at her own.

"Here is okay."

Beat.

"If a dining room is not required."

The Institute had one. X preferred the kitchen.

He laughs a touch ruefully and heads to the door, holding it open for her.

'Well, I have a dining room but I hardly ever use it. There's plenty of more comfortable rooms - lets just go raid the kitchen. Alfred's a great cook.'

Slightly bemused at his aversion to anything containing fat or too may carbs, but still a great cook.

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