Re: Corner Couch: Jason/Banner
"Are those two things connected?" he asked easily, sinking a little further into his seat. He looked across the dance floor and saw Harley Quinn putting her clothes back into place, with Damian not far ahead of her. "Will you look at that," he muttered. He thought a couple dark, uncharitable things about where morals went when somebody's dick got hard. Having sex with the Joker's girlfriend, that was an easy decision, right? Having faith in your brother, that was the hard thing.
Bitter, sour grapes. He finished his drink and swiped another from a tray as it went by, trying not to let his mood be darkened by what he'd just seen. It felt like a betrayal, more than it should have, but he was red raw all along his seams after his bad talk with Damian at the test results, and it all rolled in, turning jagged and stinging with each breath. He knew something about grudges, and nothing in his life seemed right, there days. Gwen, maybe, if he could manage to do right by her.
He tipped his fresh glass from side to side, watching the ice cubes glide smoothly around in the scotch. "Warned her?" That was encouraging as hell. "In a vague sense? You're not filling me up with confidence on this one, Bruce." He didn't like the sound of any of this, not for anybody involved. That couldn't be good for Selina, if she had an excuse to drift back toward the Bat. Sure, it was fine and dandy if Wayne loved her back, but the man was so adrift that he'd surprised if he could find his own prick with two hands, let alone figure his love life out. Maybe some things, with some mismatched versions of people who could otherwise work, maybe they weren't meant to work out.
Jason sat up a little straighter, stretching his shoulders. "Christ, weddings make me depressed. I guess you probably don't want to be my dancing partner, though."