Re: Manor: Bruce & Selina
For Selina, Damian's actions in regards to his sister did precisely that. "Bruce, he killed his father in his prior world. He left us, and he aged down, and he grew up there. A decade, formative years. As much as we all wanted this Damian to be the same one we lost, he wasn't." She knew a little about that, about growing up away from people who knew you once. And Damian had been ten; that Gotham? Shaped him. She almost said she thought Helena's anger likely didn't help, and the fact that Damian had isolated himself with the angry girl and her very singular point of view about the family, about Gotham, but she kept that to herself. It wouldn't bring Damian back, and Helena (like her involvement with the mob) was a conversation for another day.
Her lingering fear of getting it all wrong faded when he leaned into the kiss she pressed against his jaw. His fingers felt like reassurance, there and gone, and she smiled when he took the puppy with him to the bathroom. It was a good choice, the stupid little dog and it's unconditional love. Nothing to work at there, and the little thing was so stupidly trusting.
By the time he came out, she'd appropriated one of his shirts, grey and too long on her, and her things were draped all over the floor of the room. She was tugging on socks as she sat on the bed, and she just looked at him with the ridiculous little puppy nosed between neck and shoulder.
She smiled, warm and open, unguarded for just a sliver of a moment. "Bring Thomas, and come to bed." She nudged the blanket back in invitation.