Re: Bar: Cat C/Bruce W
The small smile he used when no one was watching made its appearance. A staff. "Sorry I assumed." But he wasn't sorry, and they both knew it. He was just prodding her, showing esteem with interest that wasn't investigation. It was to the casino as night was to day, a safety net and swirl of difference that he couldn't help but see. His pride wasn't what was keeping him upright, nor was it what brought him here. He wasn't showing off for her; there was nothing to imply that he was attempting to inspire trust in his strength, not the way he did with his children. The lean was pronounced.
He felt her moving like the tide from guarded and back, the walls rising and falling like cold water at dusk. It didn't trouble him. She was a hair-trigger and always had been, and he was like a rock, unmoving and unchanging. If she didn't seem to age, he certainly did, but not in that dynamic.
Bruce's brows twitched up and his mouth flat in a sculpted expression of amused resignation, granting the point. "Never a good idea with you," he conceded. "Not that you startle easily." This was the first he had heard of the "They" behind Cat's movements, and most of his amusement vanished. Her situation mirrored Jason's Gwen in some ways, and he didn't care for that either. Bruce was a hair's breadth from respecting choices and wondering who was making them. His decision not to say anything hit the air like a blow.
Bruce lifted the bottom of his cane and dropped it, so it ever so gently tapped the edge of his shoe. "Wall came down on me. Took out a lot of things, ankles up, chest down. It will be a little while before I'm fighting fit."