mental link, day 32

[headinjuries]

[ Sam crashed hard after the vigil, because between all the lies making him feel like he was going to puke and trying to pick them apart giving him one mother of a headache, staying awake felt like something you only do if you really hate yourself.

Do all newfound psychic powers suck this bad? He was fine with just flying and blowing things up, thanks. ]

( By the way, just figured everybody should know: Seong-Hye Ngazi is full of crap, the Public Safety Commission isn't half as gung-ho about bringing the bomber to justice as she makes it sound, and I'm like ninety percent she actually knows who did it, but that part I'm not quite positive about.

So, you know. In case anybody wanted to break into her office or stalk her or something. I hear some of you guys are actually good at the cloak and dagger stuff.

You're welcome. )

[ He can be found in the common area of the Bearings, scrolling through news reports and radiating pure frustration, if anyone would rather comment to his face instead of over the link. ]

Comments

[batmotif]

[He hears that implied question, Sam. But Bruce isn't terribly inclined to share when faced with implied questions. That and old habits die hard; he's still trying to get used to how utterly pointless the idea of a secret identity is when linked to a literal hivemind. He reflects:]

So just because I wear a suit means that my knowledge only extends to the boardroom?

[headinjuries]

[ Yeah, okay, dude's got a point; Sam hates when people pull the same thing on him. But even so - ]

There's kind of a difference between finding out that you, I don't know, play the violin, and finding out you're into breaking and entering, dude.

[batmotif]

I'm not "into" breaking and entering. [A quick clarification, but not exactly true, at least, not without an addendum that he feels is necessary.] I'm not a robber or a thief, just so you know.

[He doesn't break into places just to steal personal or private property. He's no Selina Kyle.]

[headinjuries]

[ Well, that one doesn't feel like a lie. ]

Okay. Spy? Is it some kind of corporate espionage stuff?

[batmotif]

[Why has this turned into an interrogation? Can you feel the mental walls being raised, Sam? He crosses his arms, almost defiantly.]

No. It's nothing like that. I don't work for anyone other than myself.

[headinjuries]

[ Because Bruce is weird, ergo interesting.

And that's not pinging him like a lie either. Hm. ]

Vigilante?

[batmotif]

[He frowns. And then, without hesitancy:]

No.

[It's less of a lie for the sake of getting away with it, but more a test of Sam's skill he mentioned during vigil. He waits for the teen's reaction.]

[headinjuries]

[ Sam's gaze narrows, although that's possibly less a matter of "judging you, bro" and more him trying not to look like he's going to lose his lunch.

At least with a one-word answer, it fades fast, unlike listening to a prolonged speech of total crap. ]

Bull.

[batmotif]

[It's obvious enough to Bruce that Sam experienced a wave of nausea just then. It seems like he did have the ability to be a living lie detector, after all -- which only lends to the credence of Ngazi being full of it. But just to be certain, he says with a completely straight face:]

I'm not lying, Sam. I'm not a vigilante; I could care less about the crime in Gotham.

[please don't puke on his nice shoes]

[headinjuries]

[ Oh man.

He's not even trying to cover, this time. ]

Dude, now you're just trying to be a dick, aren't you?

[batmotif]

Then you shouldn't pry so much. [Not even attempting to justify himself this time around, though he at least feels inwardly satisfied at the results.] Especially when it has nothing to do with the matter at hand.

[More like he's still too used to keeping these matters close to his chest.]

[headinjuries]

God, okay, fine.

[ grumble grumble it's kind of relevant okay ]

[batmotif]

[Good. He's going to be hoping that Sam's curiosity doesn't get the better of him again. (As much wishful thinking as that may be.)]

And don't go spreading that around.

[headinjuries]

I won't.

[ He's done the whole secret identity thing, okay. Not as well, but he manages. Mostly.

Or he did before all of this. ]

You really think it matters here, though?

[batmotif]

Now? No. In the future, it might.

[His brows knit together a little at the idea, a notion he's given thought to before.] If anyone from my world, much less Gotham, ever "hatches" in our Nest, it would complicate things. I'd rather not have to deal with that unless absolutely necessary.

[The problem of how he would keep a secret then would be something he'd have to seriously work on tackling. Until then, he can at least keep it from spreading within the Nest too thoroughly.]

[headinjuries]

...okay, I guess that's fair.

[ Which is a polite understatement, really. He can't help but remember that time he accidentally let Carnage get his real name and...ugh, okay, he managed to BS his way out of it, but that was a mess. ]

[batmotif]

[As far as Bruce is concerned, that's the end of the vigilante talk. All that he's willing to entertain right now, at least. He just moves on, not caring to illuminate the boy any further concerning his other persona.

Back to the aforementioned matter at hand, concerning break-ins.] Stealth isn't exactly your forte, is it?

[headinjuries]

Nope.

[ That's probably putting it kindly.

Not that anything Bruce says has struck him as particularly kind, but he's used to older and more experienced superheroes making him feel like an idiot, so hey, what else is new. ]

[batmotif]

[Bruce isn't trying to make Sam feel like an idiot at least. (Though it's sometimes just an inadvertent thing he does.) Rather, he was attempting to judge whether or not he would be useful to him, concerning this whole Ngazi business. But he'd need someone more fluent in the art of subtlety, and he's not sure what he's learned about the teen really... qualifies.

And so, instead:] Add it to the list of things for us to work on.

[headinjuries]

'K.

[ ...actually. ]

Can we get on that whenever you've got time?

[ Because this is usually about the point where he'd zip out of orbit and punch a few asteroids into dust to blow off steam, but keeping a low profile and all that... ]

[batmotif]

[He looks at him with consideration, once again feeling the growing frustration lapping at his feet. Sam does look like he needs to blow off some steam -- may as well guarantee that it's in a productive way.]

...I have time now.

[headinjuries]

[ That surprises him a little, since he assumed he was going to be somewhere low on the priority list, but hey, he'll take it. ]

Really?

Cool. Thanks.

[batmotif]

Don't thank me yet.

[Bruce won't exactly be the most lenient instructor, but he's willing to help Sam learn if he lets him.]

Meet me on the rooftop, ten minutes from now.

[And he turns to leave, because he's going to find something a bit less restrictive to wear, other than a two piece business suit.]

[headinjuries]

[ Well, that's ominous.

But whatever, it's not like Bruce can do anything worse to him than he's already taken. Get punched literally halfway around the world and everything else feels a lot less intimidating in comparison. ]

Got it.

[batmotif]

[Ten minutes later, Bruce can be found on the roof of the Bearings, as promised. He's no longer in his business suit, though what passes as "casual" for Bruce Wayne still reeks with traces of formality; dark slacks and a slightly less starched-looking dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, is his choice of clothing for now.

He stands near the railing, eyes briefly glancing out towards the city skyline while he wordlessly waits.]