A bad habit

Better run

Christian was in front of the kitchen counter of his apartment, a mug in his right hand and the newspaper in the other, his eyes reading absentmindedly the news, but nothing new seemed to happen in Gotham. Funny enough, Vicki Vale's article about Bruce Wayne was more than sweet written, almost nauseating. She probably had a lot of fun that night despite what happened to her Bruce. He puffed, it was two days since the accident at the restaurant and his left cheekbone was extremely swollen, the skin around his eye was purple, for the damage was still fresh and it hurt him like crazy, especially when he tried to smile or yawn or eat...well, it was painful in any way. He finished silently his coffee, putting back the mug in the kitchen sink and wasting a big part of his breakfast, he wasn't really that hungry that morning, he just wanted to go jogging and forget about those events of two days ago.

Something soft touched his ankles, pulling him out of his reveries and forcing him to look down. There, at his feet, was Cat, Cat was his cat, obviously. He couldn't come up with a better name, so he called her that, after all he would have certainly remembered it. Anyway Cat was a beautiful animal, she was grey with some white spotting, her fur was short but extremely soft, she was not particularly friendly, not even with her master, but she could become extremely affectionate when it was about food, just like in that moment.

" No Cat, you know it's not time for food yet..." He bent down to touch her and she arched her back, her tail held up. She meowed a few times. " I know..." He murmured, while his fingers sank in her fluffy fur. It lasted less than a minute, then she realised it was no use and left him alone again, jumping on top of a shelf. "Such a kiss - ass " He mumbled, watching her go.

He shook his head, heading towards the front door and putting on his running shoes, then he wore his green anorak, being extremely cold outside. He reached out a hand to a small shelf positioned not too far from the front door where he was used to keeping his apartment keys. He checked if he had everything he needed with him, then he went out. It was early in the morning, so he hoped not many people were around at the city park. He started jogging almost right away, checking his pulse from time to time into his watch. Yes, it was definitely cold, but it was kind of refreshing, running, alone, with no one around, it was calming and invigorating at the same time. Gotham city still had to wake up and the park Christian was in was calm and quiet, there was literally no one around, it was just him and his thoughts and his rhythmic pace. He was breathing at a regular time, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling. The air was so cold that it almost burned in his lungs, it was kind of that strange sensation that a cube of ice gives you when you old it for too long, that it almost burns. Well, it was happening the same thing to Christian right now. Clouds of steam lifted in the air every time the man breathed, dissolving in the coldness of that morning. He mindlessly checked if he had anything he needed with him again, and everything was in it's place, the only thing he missed were his cigarettes, he certainly didn't need them in that situation, besides he would have run just for forty minutes or so, then he would have gone home and smoked how much he wanted. Yes, he knew jogging and smoking were not on the same page, but he had this old habit he couldn't stop...

His train of thoughts were suddenly interrupted, for Christian bumped against something, or rather, someone. The hit almost made him fall backwards, he certainly wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He reached out, starting to apologise almost immediately, his gaze held low. " Oh I'm so sorry, my fault..." He hastened to say. " No problem, don't worry..." the other's voice was deep, so deep that Christian was almost drawn to lift his look and point his amber eyes to the other person. He felt like fainting.

Bruce Wayne. Jogging in the park too.

He watched him like a stupid, standing there and looking at him, almost hypnotised. The millionaire studied him for a second and Christian noticed he was looking at his black eye. Yeah it was pretty terrible, he knew it. And being particularly not presentable in front of the playboy of Gotham wasn't exactly desirable, but anyway Christian preferred not to say a thing and stood there, his lips pressed into a thin line, his hair messy and his eyes fixed on the light blue ones of Bruce.