Generalities are all we have, of course, at the End of Time. I envy you your specifics.

[una_persson]

Characters: Una Persson and Bruce Wayne.
Date: Somewhere around early/mid-January.
Location: Mercant's, a restaurant in the Fire sector.
Situation: Sequel to this thread. Dinner date for Bruce and Una, somewhat overdue.
Warnings/Rating: TBD but probably nothing major.

So they were a little late in getting to this. Considering everything that had happened in the interim—Eshai's murder, the hatching of the turtles, various friends disappearing—Una just decided to be grateful that yet another thing had not managed to postpone, again, this frequently-rescheduled date.

She'd agreed to meet him there, and at the appointed time, disembarked from a pedicab wearing a new dress she'd recently bought, nothing too flashy or elaborate, but with a distinct effort definitely being made.

Comments

[cowled]

Bruce has never dealt particularly well with loss. Considering that the first and most definitive ones lead directly to his becoming Batman? Yeah, he's never had or developed reasonable coping methods. So in the wake of not only Tim's disappearance, but the younger Dick's as well, he regresses.

Gone is the man who thought that perhaps Bruce Wayne was the more valuable of the two identities, he sinks beneath the black, roiling humour that envelopes him and he hits the streets a little harder, patrols a little longer. When he's not punching thugs, he trains. Translates kedan books. Patches his surveillance systems active throughout the city to monitor for crime and dalliances thereof. Contacting Una is an afterthought. A pretense, to keep up the facade of his life.

But they agree, they go. He shows up wearing dark colours, a navy turtleneck to accompany black slacks, and he's the very picture of propriety when he sees her across the room and smiles just so. "Una," he says, a greeting as he draws near to her table. "You look lovely this evening."

[una_persson]

She rises as he approaches—not exactly classic etiquette, but Una likes to bend the rules sometimes. "I thought I'd make an effort this evening as opposed to all the others," she says with a smile, offering her hand. She's smiling, but she's also watching his expression. In truth, she's been a little worried.

[cowled]

He bends over her hand without a word, brushes his lips across her knuckles. Protocol dictates, after all, no matter that she's eschewing hers to an extent. "Implying you don't believe you've looked lovely all those other times? I beg to differ."

[una_persson]

"You always have the best answers," she says, enjoying the courtesy. "You're looking thoroughly handsome yourself. Doing well, I hope?"

[cowled]

That earns a crookedly amused little smirk. "Consider it a matter of breeding, then. And yes, I've been... well." He takes a seat, hand automatically moving to smooth down a tie he isn't wearing. Whoops, how clumsy of him, though he doesn't appear to have noticed.

"As you know, two of my sons... left, recently." It's a matter of public record, although Bruce doesn't particularly want to talk about it. The persona he cultivates isn't one that shies away from personal details, merely one that manipulates them.

[una_persson]

She sits, nods her head in sympathy. "I heard. I'm sorry." It's always an odd sort of condolence, and she's found that keeping it simple is usually the best way to deal with it.

[cowled]

"I'd rather they be home," he says, running his finger around the rim of an empty glass. "My butler is very well versed in caring for wayward children, so I expect he'll look after them perfectly well. And with all the dangers here, I can't in good conscience hope that they stay."