Re: quicklog -- steph/bruce: dive bar.
[Her hand was quick and dismissive.] No, I'm fine. [She took a gulp of the tequila and soda, the liquor burning down her throat mercilessly, and she shivered, eyes closed and a deep intake of breath. Stephanie wasn't a heavy drinker, despite her tendency to want to avoid her problems. She was scared of turning into her parents, pill-poppers and alcoholics, and that curbed her desire to drown her pain away with liquor every single day. But, there were some days, and she thought that they both earned this. A night away from the Manor, a dirty little joint that didn't even serve food, a place to air all their grievances. Or just to get drunk off their faces.]
You can always talk to me. [There was a sad twist to her mouth, and she suspected things were strained between Bruce and well, everyone. The boys, Selina, Eddie. Everyone was gone, and she knew all about that feeling. It was why she was trying so hard to keep them all together, even if it was all for moot. Even if Destiny insisted it wasn't her job. She could see how much they were all hurting. Shouldn't they all be together? Maybe, Steph didn't understand family as well as others suspected she did, or maybe she just didn't actually understand anyone in the family anymore. Her hand reached out, and she squeezed his wrist with thin fingers, a twitch of a smile that said that she would always be here for him.
The song switched, something a little rougher, and she began to tap her finger to the rhythm. Her mouth dipped down.] I don't know if there's any way to help her at this point. You know that, right? [Her head tilted to the side, some blonde strands spilling out of the elastic.] There's only so much to do, and you can't keep running off to save her if she doesn't want to be saved. She's just going to keep doing the same thing over and over again, Bruce. [She took another long gulp, and pressed her fingers to her lips.] I was talking to -- someone recently about it. There's only so much we can do, and then it's for nothing. Then we're just...forcing them. Taking their choices away. [Her hand moved from her mouth, back to the condensation that she swirled on the worn wood.] I don't like it either. He wasn't wrong, but I don't like it. [She flashed him a funny smile.] Nothing's working. Maybe that's the point. Maybe we all need to drift apart in order to come back together?