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╰┈➤❝ [i wanted to put my mouth on you and draw out whatever toxin... - but i understand. there are limits to love.] ❞ ╰┈➤ kim addonizio
"YOU'RE HAVING... COMPANY?" Alfred asked, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips forming a frown. If he hadn't gone to the doctor just the day before, he'd think he'd had a stroke. His eyes watched his employer pace around the desk. The monitors all lit up, playing the news on one screen while another played music. The man in black stared down at his journal, reading over his notes from the previous night. The biggest screen on the table played through the events from the last night from his fight with a car thief to him falling from the Dumont roof. Most of the night was black until the morning came when he'd finally woken up with two new sutures on his body and he'd had to cut them out and redo them. "And they're coming over... tonight?"
"In two hours." He simply responded as he continued reading over the messy writing. It was almost too messy for even himself to read. But his eyes ran along the messy letters regardless. "She likes pasta."
"She?" Alfred's eyes slightly widened as he attempted to cover up his own shock. A small smile began to grow on his lips. In fear of pushing too far, he simply nodded and made his way back towards the old elevator. The gate to the elevator creaked shut, leaving Bruce alone in his cave. Glancing back towards the elevator, he set the journal down on his desk and took a seat on his stool. His finger ran along a knob, rewinding the recording from the last night. 'Can I ask you something?' Her voice echoed from the speakers next to him. He paused the recording when he looked up at her.
His eyes bore holes into the screen. He'd never seen her so messy and almost vulnerable. Every time they'd been together, she was always so well put together. Neat and tidy. Dresses intact, not a hair out of place. But here, her hair tie was barely in, her makeup was old and smeared, her clothes were wrinkled and loose. He felt like he'd really seen her - or, at least, a part of her. And she'd seen the real him. As real as he could be. Nowadays, under the mask, he felt more and more like his real self. That Bruce was the mask he wore, and the Batman was the real him.
It almost felt like a weight had been lifted off of his back. That someone outside of his home knew. But the relief was short-lived. Her life was in danger now. If someone knew about her knowing something, it could be catastrophic. A deep frown settled onto his lips. It felt wrong, her knowing. Like she'd just stepped into the firing line. He pressed play on the recording, his gaze remaining on her in the film and in real life. He paused again while she was in the middle of chuckling. Her smile reminded him of his mother's - what little he could remember. His father always said her laughter sounded like wedding bells, and that's how he'd known he was going to marry her.
