Bruce starts his days fairly early, in what can approximate early here. It's the reason he'd built a clock for himself during his first month here; he's less concerned about knowing the hour than he is about counting them to begin with. The absence of circadian rhythm and their physiological need for less- less food, less sleep, has made determining a schedule for himself difficult. Instead of thinking of hours like 3 and 4 in the morning to be quiet, he has to think in terms of hour 31 or 32. To get an understanding of what the majority of people in Beacon do, when they do it, and where.

He stops by the Invincible and the general store when visitors are small in number and does so when necessary. The rest is built around a minimalist's sleep schedule. Bruce has the museum almost entirely to himself and it's rare that he's been required to hide his presence. The residents don't visit often and are preoccupied elsewhere- leaving Bruce free to run laps inside, to move through weight training and agility work, to stretch.

When he leaves for the very first time it's to make his way to the lake and wash up. This is only a difficult thing to navigate when the ferry is expected to arrive and that means that Bruce has the entirety of the walk to himself. In the quiet, in the dark. It's a peaceful experience. Meditative even. Bruce keeps a change of clothes inside a bag over his arm, sweat sticks his shirt to the place between his shoulder blades and it plasters his hair to his head. He's looking forward to the first gust of cool air when he slips outside the back door. He isn't looking forward to the figure sitting outside. Obviously waiting.

Bruce pauses. Watches. And without moving his gaze, very quietly closes the door behind him.