Re: Near the entrance: Bat/Cat
The problem was that Gotham didn't feel like home. It had felt progressively less so over the past few months, and it reminded him of when he was going and angry, before Batman, when he wanted nothing more than to leave the city behind and never looked back. It had taken time and distance to bring him back, to make him care. Whether or not it could work a second time remained to be seen. "Try to let them vent," he attempted to explain. "To say what they wanted to say, so it didn't come out here. But maybe I was worried for nothing," he admitted. Maybe no one would dare make a scene here. "I know I have a right to be here. I wasn't driven out, Selina, I chose to leave." It was that or death, even if only a few knew just how bad things had gotten. He ground his teeth together, a hint of frustration seeping through despite him attempting to hold it back. He was doing what he wanted, for one of the very first times in recent memory. Had he let himself be influenced by everyone else he would still be in Gotham, in the cowl, miserable and going through the motions. But Italy was becoming too much like home, and it was a fine line to walk.
She was pushing. He knew she was pushing, and it was an old habit, feeling himself being drawn into pushing back while simultaneously trying to do the opposite. "She didn't understand why I was doing... this. Why it was better. She doesn't understand me, and yet she has the audacity to tell me what to do," and his voice turned scornful, edging towards anger, before he caught himself and reined it back in. Now wasn't the time, it wasn't, and when she moved closer he wished, again, that he'd taken advantage of the open bar before this. He began to say that he was trying to say things, but guilt wasn't an easy burden to unload; began to, but he stopped himself. He was doing this, staying away, to make it easier for her to move on. She was with Banner; he didn't need to be in Gotham to know that. And yet here she was telling him to stop, that it wasn't working, but what else was he supposed to do? Pretend like nothing was amiss and make another attempt at being friends? Somehow, it didn't really occur to him that they might still have a chance. With everything that had happened it seemed so... final, and he would be lying if he said his thoughts didn't go to Iris at least momentarily. Of everything he had contemplated, he wasn't expecting this. He wasn't expecting some sort of ultimatum. It left him at a loss.
Belatedly, he realized he hadn't said anything. Not a word, no interruptions, just silence and staring as she spoke. He was not even close to being prepared for this conversation. And then she was whispering in his ear, lips against his cheek and none of the distance he'd fought so hard to establish between them. He turned his head, ever so slight a movement, to look down at her, and still he couldn't seem to find words. He inhaled, prepared to speak, then, but her lips brushed his and air was all he managed. Pathetic, that was what he was.
Too much silence. He wondered if he even still possessed a voice. The emotion in her gaze was unmistakeable, but he remembered how he'd hurt her, how he made her miserable, trying and trying and they'd still ended up here. What would be different this time around? Why was it so difficult for him to see the good? Maybe Harley was right. Maybe he was scared. Scared of trying and failing, scared of hurting her again, of ruining things and driving her away. Again. He swallowed, took another breath, and finally managed to find words. Spoken as she moved away, a step forward too, too late.
"Selina." No, not Ms. Kyle. He couldn't muster that. "I'm not ready to come back. Not... permanently. Little by little, maybe." He didn't know if he could manage it, but he was willing to try. Not for anyone else, though, but for himself. He wasn't going to waste the effort anymore. "But-- I can't. Not yet. And even when I do come back, it won't be the same. I won't be the same." He was rambling. He wasn't making sense, he might as well be drunk. It would give him an excuse. "What about Banner?" If he was going to make a fool of himself, he might as well ask.