Bruce has been asking questions for most of his life but it might be fair to say that curiosity became a need to know after the murder of his parents. He wants details, he wants facts, he wants to know who and how and where and why in an attempt not just to understand a chaotic world but also so that he might prepare for the many possibilities he might face. But asking questions doesn't mean he's used to hearing the answers.

No one and nothing in Gotham gave up the truth easily. There's a power in secrecy that can be rivaled by little else- there is blackmail and leverage and fear. It's strange by extension, to find himself in this place where people surrender so much so readily. Perhaps the reason for it is that they assume this is the afterlife, and that people believe they have nothing left to lose. That there are no mysteries in death.

Beacon itself would prove them wrong. There are no shortage of mysteries.

"A friend once told me that fear is good."

The man's reply is candid but not cavalier. Bruce watches his face, the small crease that appears between his brows as he follows a thought, a memory. It's easy for Bruce to find his own- how small he'd been after coming down from the rooftop, the burns on his palms still healing. I'm learning to conquer fear, he'd said then.

"It tells you where the edge is."