Re: log: gatsby, bruce/selina
Somehow, it felt like his question had been a trick. But her answer was true all the same. "Once, I would have said no, that I wouldn't want my Gotham back." But things had changed; they both knew that. Everything had changed. And it wasn't just the deathwish she saw in his eyes. It was something older, something back to when she'd been a kitten, when she'd had people, when she'd felt like she belonged. Years ago, and these days she knew more about what was happening in Marvel than she did about Gotham. She knew, without a doubt, that moving back wouldn't change that. That time? That time was gone.
His comment about envying Babs, though, that made her frown. "She didn't want to go. She wanted a purpose. We shouldn't have to leave for that." She realized, as soon as the words were out, that this was what was different about him now. He wanted to go. He didn't want a purpose; he had one, and he didn't want it.
She put her drink down, the tumbler clinking against the endtable. "I know Tony cares about me." She said it with a certainty that didn't hold any doubt. Oh, she knew that. She might not know it about anyone in Gotham, but she knew Tony cared. "It doesn't change the fact that Gotham terrifies him. He died. He's allowed to be terrified." As for what hurt, she waved it off; it didn't matter.
And she knew, as soon as he looked up and saw her anger, that he was tired. Tired of it, of her, of everything. It was there, in the gray of his eyes, and she had already known. It was the reason she hadn't tried to claw her way back into bed with him, to steal him back from Iris. He was tired of it, and she was hurt, and she couldn't make it disappear for him. She'd lost her world, and an illogical part of her felt that he'd let it happen. But there was no point in talking about any of that, not anymore. They'd beaten that horse to death, hadn't they?
His blunt statement that there was no them, it was like nails into her skin, but that didn't show. She kept her features carefully blank. Of course there was no them. Maybe there hadn't ever been. A few tumbles over the course of years didn't amount to much of anything, did it?
But when he stood, she followed suit, and she nudged him back toward the seat he'd vacated. "Sit down. There are better ways to say goodbye than getting so drunk you can't walk." Because that was what this was, wasn't it? Goodbye.
She lifted one hand to the strap of her little black dress, and she began to tug it aside, intent clear.