As soon as her back was turned, Bruce came in to sit quietly in the chair he'd been sitting in earlier, visualizing what he wanted to say and do. His coat was still there, and he took from it the first class plane ticket he'd purchased, just in case, holding it in his hands when she turned around to face him.
Everything was different about him now. Bruce Wayne's lazy, indolent posture, even sitting down, had been replaced with his more usual, rigid one. His expression was no longer vague and smiling, but serious - his eyes much older than the rest of him. But it was his entire aura that was the most change. While before he had seemed to be fairly easy-going - a man who, at least to Selina, had more beneath the surface than there appeared but was mostly uncomplicated, everything about him now spoke of secrets, untold depths, and wells of emotion.
Bruce met her eyes steadily, wanting to leave no doubt as to the truth of what she was seeing, what he was showing her. When he spoke, it wasn't in Bruce Wayne's higher-pitched nasal tone, but his own natural baritone - a lot closer to his other voice. "It's not a joke." He tapped the envelope against his hand. "This is a first class ticket back home," he told her. "I promised you a vacation, and no matter what - it's yours. If you want me to use this, my jet will take you back to Gotham when you're ready to come home and I'll leave on the red eye."
Putting the ticket on a side table, propped up against a lamp, he sat back, crossing his legs, ankle to knee. "But I think we should talk first."