Even from a distance, Bruce could clearly see the scene laid out before him. Two figures and a dog, and he was so used to stealth that it seemed strange to approach head on, in the open, no effort made to conceal himself whatsoever. His smile was rueful when Lucia called out, an acknowledgment of the days upon days they'd spent at odds; it reminded him of Alfred, and that an ache that lived beneath his ribs which would never cease. But it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, because Alfred was a good memory. One of the few, in fact, like his parents or Rachel or days gone past when he'd been young and optimistic. "Ciao, signora," he said in greeting, but his gaze was quickly drawn to the excitable dog rushing towards him. He couldn't help but laugh, a sound he rarely made, but then again rarely was anyone or anything so happy to see him.
He dropped into a crouch, just in time to have paws on his knees and a wet tongue in his face. He laughed again, ruffling the dog's fur fondly while simultaneously trying to push him down. "Hello, piccolo pipistrello," he whispered, even though the dog looked absolutely nothing like a bat. The color was the same, but that was it. Seconds ticked by as he lavished the dog with affection, perhaps stalling the inevitable, but the inevitable always came. His laughter dwindled and he looked up, expression softening ever so slightly, as he stood. The dog barked and trotted at his heels as he closed the remaining distance between himself and the woman on the ground, trying to ignore Lucia's watchful gaze.
"Hello, Iris." He shielded his eyes against the sun as he looked down at her.