Who: Bruce Wayne, Scott Free, OT Manor Residents (later) What: Scott and Bruce practice their escapology; and talk women. Where: The Bat Cave When: Sunday, December 9th Rating: PG-13; maybe
"She can't cook. At all. The gruel on Apokolips was easier to stomach than Barda's cooking. I got up one morning and she was making cereal for everyone... and into the bowls went the cereal, sure, but also half a jar of mayonnaise and a raw egg. Have you ever eaten cereal, mayonnaise and raw eggs? If you haven't, you shouldn't start."
Scott paused to crane his head back, looking down into the abyss of the Cave below the catwalk, above which both he and Bruce were hanging in modified straitjackets, strung up by their ankles. They had Alfred to thank for the secure and inventive restraints-- and the fact that they were held aloft by the same chain meant that should one escape before the other, it would upset the balance of trap and leave the slow-poke to plummet to his death. An ingenious solution to keeping them up there, Scott had to admit.
Scott lifted one arm and managed to get his head wedged between his bicep and shoulder, popping his head out the other side and giving himself some wriggle room to start trying to pull the entire jacket up and off over his head, only to remember that annoying strap between the legs, connecting the front of the jacket to the back. He'd have to undo the buckles instead. Rats.
"I don't think she minds New York though-- and if our neighbors would stop showing up unexpectedly, she might even like them."
To be fair to their neighbors though; they'd probably stop walking in if Scott and Barda would actually close or lock the front door-- but Scott had this whole love-hate thing with locks. Besides, what was the point really? Anyone who broke in would surely regret it as soon as they got a load of the unearthly inhabitants.
"She doesn't talk about going back to Apokolips so much anymore-- I've decided to take that as a good sign. What do you think?"