quicklog -- steph/bruce: dive bar.
[Bruce was casual, a hint of stubble and the faintest traces of dark circles under his eyes that weren't likely to improve. This wasn't the kind of place he normally frequented; in fact, he rarely went to bars at all. His playboy facade had been slipping by little and he didn't have the same drive he'd once had to maintain it. Not that anyone would have expected Bruce Wayne to show up here, in a dimly lit dive, wearing jeans like he was just another patron.
Anonymity seemed easy here, but even so, he didn't care about being recognized.
Better here than the Manor, where he wanted to be even less now that Jason was gone. He toyed with the idea of taking a drink for every person who'd left—no, every person he'd driven away, because that was what he did. Without even trying, and wasn't that a skill to be envious of?
He started with a whiskey, and found Stephanie in her booth by the jukebox.] Hi. [He sat down across from her, a little heavily, emphatic, and took a sip.]