Re: Bar: Cat C/Bruce W
Bruce was the kind of man that did what he thought right. He did not consult others; he did not share plans. He assessed and then acted, and it was never the action of a prudent man. The mourning was obviously not something that occurred to him as necessary. He himself had never attended a funeral with an empty casket, because no body meant there should be recovery, if not recovery, hope.
It was, of course, an unhealthy outlook.
When she shifted into calm, so did he, a minute adjustment of muscle that only another fighter would recognize. The sight of her eased his mind somewhat, as if solidifying that his past was real, if far away. He moved slowly in, his gait short and lopsided, the steady sweep of his gaze around the room a very old habit.
Bruce found the place over-bright and garish, which he had not expected of her. "No. I'm on too many muscle relaxants. Tea."