[He'd known before the very first shot had been poured of course, that Vanitas had never had alcohol before. But as always there is a world of difference between knowing and seeing. The blood has rushed to the other's face, tinting him pink and darkening his eyes- his movements are looser and less tightly controlled. He looks, for the first time that Bruce has seen, like a real, ordinary, boy.

Bruce does not need to invite him. It's likely to complicate his plans because not only does he need to account for a witness and maintain stricter control of himself, but he also needs to account for his particular brand of chaotic instigation. Instigation for the sake of instigation.

But the boy shakes his head and his hair falls into his eyes and Bruce remembers what it was like to try and down himself in club after club- surrounded by strangers he didn't care about. Trying to destroy the soft, horrible thing inside him- trying again, night after night.]

You could. [Bruce admits, as if they're talking about restaurants to go to, discussing their options.] But you liked the oven, and the pancakes, and the drink, haven't you? Maybe there'll be more things you'll like.

[One shoulder rises and falls, a barely-there shrug.]

Besides. If you change you mind, you could always go back to darkness.