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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"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.

X flicks a sideways glance at Bruce.

"If he knows we are coming, it is not a raid."

You know, in case he was wondering.

Nothing rueful about this laugh, as he leads the way through the opulence of Wayne Manor (disadvantage of owning a house this size - takes ages to get anywhere) towards the kitchen.

'True.'

Her sideways glance is mirrored back at her.

'We could always try to surprise him?'

X goes still for a second, assessing the possibilities.

Then --

"You have not tried that before?"

He stops too and eyes her with a mischievous look in his eye.

'...no? It never occured to me.'

"Oh."

X absorbs that.

"It will not be problematic if he catches you?"

Not that she is casting aspersions on his stealth abilities. But --

He makes a 'pffft' sort of face, then grins.

'Of course not. He's been my guardian since I was eight. He's used to me being an idiot.'

He loves that man.

And knows that he can handle supries attack tiems! from his charge.

'Lets see...he's normally checking the house over right about now, I think. Or polishing the silverware or something.'

Bruce? Is a bit clueless when it comes to maintaining the Manor, given that Alfred's always been there to do it for him.

'Lets just...see if we can find him?'

In a super-sneaky way, obv.

X just looks at him, nostrils flaring as she scents the air.

Then --

"It will not be difficult to find him. For me."

Beat.

"This way."

And then she is moving off, quick and quiet. Some things, it seems, do not change. Not even on dates.

This? Is the sort of date he can really get along with.

He follows, trying as best he can to stay quiet. He's ninja-trained so he's not bad at it.

'There are cameras,' he murmurs quietly, as they move. 'But if he's not at the monitors, we'll be OK.'

X pauses, flicking a look back over her shoulder.

"Sometimes there are blind spots."

Or what might be blind spots.

"I will be careful."

She cocks her head for a moment, listening intently. Just in case.

Then she shakes her head once -- they are not in close enough proximity yet -- and moves on.

Through the entrance hall, into the East wing. Bruce is trying not to laugh out loud, though there is a grin painted on his face. He hasn't done anything like this for years. If ever.

Not for fun, anyway.

'No blind spots. He's too good and I told him to make sure there weren't any. A lot of people would love to rob this place.'

He wonders how she's doing this.

'Can you...hear him?'

"Okay," X says -- about the lack of blind spots. "Good."

Her nostrils flare again, and she flicks a glance toward a door halfway down the hall.

"Tracking by scent is easier. But I can hear him now."

Beat.

"He is in there."

'Silver room,' he confims, quietly.

'There's another entrance, through the dining room. We could circle 'round.'

He has no idea what they'll do if they do manage to surprise the old man but still. That's not the point.

"Okay," X says.

And then, very carefully --

"You lead."

She is curious.

He nods and walks down the hall, resisting the urge to be a kid and flatten himself against the wall and creep along. If this were just a normal girl, he might, just for the laugh.

But he thinks X probably wouldn't laugh. And he doesn't want to look like an idiot in front of her, he wants her to take him seriously.

So he walks, light-footed and easy, making no sound. Except a few feet fter they've passed the door, his sneaker squeaks a little on the newly-polished floor. He grimaces but tells himself that Alfred probably wouldn't pick up on that, not unless he was listening for it.

Into the dining room and he indicates the door in the far corner (it's a big dining room, complete with long table that'd sit about thirty people comfortably).

'Through there,' he murmurs. 'There's an ante room that leads on into the silver room.'

X slips along just behind him, quiet as a shadow. She scans the dining room as they enter, mapping it for later use, and pausing when Bruce does.

"Flanking would be useful."

Beat.

"If it were a mission."

Considering this is a date, and a game --

She does not have enough data to make the call.

He heads over, standing by the door at looking at it.

'Can you hear anything?'

It's only a slightly exaggerated whisper. There's a bubble of laughter rising up through him and he has to fight to suppress it.

'If we open the door quietly and slip through, we might be able to sneak up on him without him hearing.'

X flicks a glance between Bruce and the door, statue-still for long seconds.

"I think," X says, matter-of-factly (if quietly), "that it is too late."

Maybe Bruce will be able to hear footsteps soon, too.

OOM: Date

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