[open!]

[cowled]

Characters: Bruce Wayne
Location: Whichever sector you fancy.
Situation: Bruce is braving the increasing hostility of the kedan radicals to be his usual arrogant, playboy self out in the public sector.
Warnings/Rating: None yet! To be updated if anything occurs.
Notes: I'll do action or prose with equal verve, so hit me with whatever you'd like. Just pop a note in your subject line about which Sector you want and off we go!






[Reconnaissance is more or less his superpower. He's reached the end of Devin Craig's immediate usefulness, and Batman can only do so much from the shadows. Sometimes, the man for the job is the one he feels least like being: Bruce Wayne.

The blood tests he took from the site of the executions were inconclusive. Hard to do much without the resources to run them through the proper battery of tests. The blood has abnormally low levels of albumin, but beyond that it's structurally similar to that of a human. Close cousins. It doesn't have any of the same markers in common with other shapeshifters he's encountered, and he can't do more without proper equipment.

What he does know is that the scraps of cloth he gathered from the bodies are congruent to fabric samples of the upper east side in the Fire Sector, which at least confirms their territory. A night's tracking lead him to the headquarters of the Black Kirin, formerly one of the most affluent presences in the sector. The place had been left in ruins, and was still a smouldering mess when he found it. Any insignia the gang had used to identify themselves had been smothered with graffiti, torn or burned.

Turf wars.

Not a thought he likes to entertain. Not when he doesn't know the locals, the customs, the movers and shakers of the underworld. Handling such events in Gotham takes every ounce of his not inconsiderable resources and the marshalling of everyone in his network. He has to operate differently here.

But that isn't why he's out here today. Today, he has business of a different sort to conduct. He needs to start amassing capital. Lieuen's little show of wealth wasn't impressive so much as tasteless and wasteful, and Bruce still hasn't abandoned the idea that the entire execution was staged between Lieuen and Evandau. But the question is - was it for the benefit of the kedan, or the 'foreigners'?

And what did they mean about saving? Everyone he's asked about it has been maddeningly vague, to the point that he's considering finding some unsavoury individual and holding them upside down off the tallest building in the Metal Sector.

Hm.

Still. For the time being, he's speaking with shop-owners, negotiating where necessary. He's chatty, amicable. If he happens across any foreigners, he'll smile and wave. Bruce Wayne, ladies and gentlemen. He's a charmer.]

Comments

[flawedgoods]

[Favrielle felt...odd. How strange to meet a person and not be almost immediately put off by one thing or another about them. He was polite, personable, and not at all pushy which she appreciated a great deal. He also hadn't visibly noticed her scar which made her believe him more easily when he called her lovely. Yes, she felt odd. D'Angelines were known for being prettier than those from other countries but she'd never really been included in that group in her own country after her accident...

She returns the bow with a graceful curtsey, only dipping down as far as he did as she considers his offer. It's offered openly enough, with the opportunity to decline if she so chooses...but Favrielle is hardly going to pass up the opportunity to spend some time with someone who doesn't immediately raise her hackles.]

It's not as common in Terre d'Ange, but I think I wouldn't be opposed to accepting such an offer of amends.

[cowled]

[He grins a little, extends his arm. She doesn't seem to eschew the overtures of high society, so he'll adapt.]

Does the lady have a preference for her cuisine?

[Also: Terre d'Ange? Land of the angels. He files that away. It's something he can bring up later.]

[flawedgoods]

[And the offered arm is definitely a first for Keeliai. Favrielle warms ever so slightly as she accepts the offer, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, and looks around.]

There is a little place around the corner that's has good food and it's kept fairly clean.

[She gestures off to the left.]

[cowled]

Then that's where we'll go.

[He heads in the aforementioned direction, careful to rein in the length of his stride to accommodate hers.]

So how have you been finding Keeliai, Favrielle?

[flawedgoods]

Strange, foreign as to be expected, and...considerably more unwelcoming than I had anticipated. By some small factions here in the city, by my estimates.

[She doesn't sound pleased about this, and her voice wavers just ever so slightly on the word "unwelcoming" as it's hard not to think about the events at the festival's end.]

[cowled]

Have you had difficulties?

[He's not going to push his luck by sounding taken aback. Instead, his tone is concerned, sympathetic by turns, though he's careful to ensure it doesn't overshadow the question itself.]

[flawedgoods]

[She gives him a side-look.]

Were you not at the final day of the festival? Or if you weren't didn't you at least hear what happened?

[She doesn't want to go into what happened to her, but Favrielle is hardly going to let him walk around through the city not knowing what social undercurrents are present.]

[cowled]

I was in another area of the Sector, if you're talking about the executions that occurred. I've been very personally lucky so far, though.

[Otherwise known as 'nobody bothers Batman.']

[flawedgoods]

I am. There were very nearly other executions than those that occurred.

[Which is as far as she'll outright say that she was nearly killed on stage. He's welcome to draw his own conclusions.]

You've not encountered any hostility from the locals?

[cowled]

Nothing more than the usual. Then again, this place is paradise compared to Gotham.

[He shrugs his shoulder - only the left one, so as not to disturb her grip on his right arm.]

[flawedgoods]

Where you're from, I gather.

[Favrielle looks over at him, trusting him to steer her out of the way of any obstacles for a moment.]

What is it like?

[cowled]

[Trust well placed. He's good at this sort of thing.]

Oh, it's...

[He laughs a little bit, a soft noise.]

Gotham, really. It's a beautiful city. I've lived there most of my life, and there isn't another place in the world I'd rather call home. But it's... sad, too. Sad and old. I-- ah, watch your step--

[There's a child's toy in the middle of the road, and he skirts them around it.]

Say what you will, it's certainly one of a kind. But it's not for everyone, and believe me when I say that I understand completely when other individuals would rather avoid it. It's something of an acquired taste.

[And he'll defend it to the death, if needs be.]

[flawedgoods]

[He doesn't say it outright, and perhaps her observations are subjective, but to Favrielle it seems as if he's saying he loves this city of his in spite of it's very obvious flaws. Perhaps even a little bit because of them, because she reasons as an acquired taste he's come to appreciate the things that aren't perfect and beautiful about it.

Of course, nostalgia and familiarity make people fond of things and consider them more positively than they deserve, so perhaps this is just her mind wandering away with her.

Still, she nods, giving quiet thanks as he steers her around something lying in the road. Favrielle watches where they're going more carefully as she replies.]

It sounds as if it has character, and no place is without its flaws. You must miss it a great deal, being here now.

[Elua knew she missed the City of Elua terribly and they'd only been gone days.]

[cowled]

A little, you might say.

[Oh look they are at that restaurant, how quaint. He holds the door open in a Most Gallant fashion and gestures for her to enter.]

But I travel a great deal in my line of work, so I'm used to being away from it.

[flawedgoods]

[Oh yes, very nicely done, Bruce. Favrielle responds with a smile and enters the restaurant. She's pleased to see that the kedan greet her with a smile, not any trace of hostility, and at their prompting, takes the seat at the table which puts her back to the wall.]

What is your line of work, exactly?

[cowled]

[And Bruce, with the aplomb that befits his station and belies none of his dislike at having his back to an open room, slides into the seat opposite her.]

I'm a businessman. You could say we don't have any one particular focus - my company does work in energy, medicine, agriculture--

[He leans back from the table as the kedan emerge with menus, and he smiles and thanks them graciously.]

-- And numerous other venues as well. It's a rewarding job.

[And he's not going to mention that it carries his last name just yet. His measure of Favrielle so far seems to imply that she wouldn't be able to stand being boastful.]

[flawedgoods]

[Ah. Favrielle knows somewhat of those with the means and influence to have their hands in several different areas. He calls himself a business man, but rather than saying "the man I work for" or "the company work for" he calls it his. It's not necessarily concrete proof that he's the owner, but it seems likely. Which, if true, would potentially make him a rich man back home, considering his company's interest in agriculture and medicine.

Favrielle takes her menu with a nod and thanks to the kedan and she opens it to browse, though half-heartedly as she considers Bruce longer.]

Very rewarding, I imagine, for you and those who work for you?

[She feels it's a safe bet to assume he's the man in charge, or high up enough to be wealthy. He carries himself with an assurance she's familiar with from the nobility and wealthy of the City of Elua. Of course, she's not intimidated. She may have neither wealth nor political influence, but she's seen them all stripped bare under her scrutinizing eye.]

[cowled]

[His smile is a little abashed, and he ducks his head.]

I like to think so.

[flawedgoods]

[She nods, expression showing perfect understanding.

Favrielle glances down at her menu before carefully setting it aside.]

The gentleman who held the festivals seemed open to the prospect of helping to facilitate those who would establish a business here in the city.

[cowled]

And I have considered that venue, but... I don't believe in taking shortcuts, Favrielle. There's no shortage of work to be done, and I've always found a cathartic sort of pleasure in being industrious with my own hands. I'd rather build something solid than borrow a house of cards from someone who may or may not prove trustworthy later. What do you think?

[He's not just asking her opinion for appearance's sake. He's genuinely curious in what she might have to say, and his body language is perfectly attentive.]

[flawedgoods]

[It's apparent from her expression that she's...rather surprised, and not unpleasantly so.]

I think you've managed to rather succinctly summarize my own thoughts on the matter. I had thought at one point to perhaps attempt to open my own shop here, as you've said, there's no shortage of existing work to do and my own strengths lie in things they might consider wasteful...

[Not to her of course, but Favrielle hardly wishes to antagonize the locals by putting out high quality gowns and outfits not suited for daily work.]

If I'm to reach that point again, better that I earn it. I've done so before and I could do so again.

[cowled]

I have every faith in your ability to do so.

[It's a genuine compliment, not the least bit patronizing.]

What is it you do, if I may be so bold?

[flawedgoods]

[He's talented indeed to say something like that and not get her hackles up. How the man can sound entirely genuine seems a bit of a mystery.]

I'm a clothier by trade, though my talents lie in finer, custom work for clients of my choice.

[She's that good that she can take her choice from among those who wish to commission a garment or wardrobe.]

[cowled]

That's marvellous.

[He puts one arm on the table and leans in just a touch.]

I have a particular fondness for well-made clothing. If I pass muster, might I interest you in taking me on as a client? Money is no object.

[Leaving the ball in her court? Most definitely.]

[flawedgoods]

[Favrielle wasn't entirely sure if this was just how he was normally, or if he was that good at sizing up people, but that he managed to be agreeable, flattering, without being obvious or obnoxious about it was a wonder. She thought absent-mindedly that he'd make a rather good Dowayne, if he'd been D'Angeline. He had the looks and social skills. Bryony, perhaps, or Dahlia.

Her gaze moved over him slowly, carefully. her eyes examined the lay of his clothing, the quality, the planes and contours she could distinguish beneath them, before moving up to his face. Her expression was calm, assessing, and neutral.]

I believe we could come to an agreement. What is it you'd require?