Someone would have died if they startled me he says, and Bruce reconsiders the figure in front of him. The way he holds his limbs, the places his hands land, how much of his feet remain on the ground. Bruce has met his share of assassins; he's met hired hitmen and thugs, he knows thieves and kingpins. There's something about the way that he doesn't truly settle, about how watchful his gaze is even when it makes a performance of not watching. It reminds him of Bane, of Jim Gordon when they first met. Both had been soldiers once.

Bruce lingers. He doesn't come closer but he doesn't make any attempt to withdraw either. Perhaps that also means something. The truth is that the question makes him think of Silver St Cloud- who told him not to pretend he wasn't afraid, when they had both been too young to understand the enormity of anything. Of their own futures.

"Alive."

It's fitting. After all, Bruce had seen no visions of his own, had only listened to conversations already passed- things that couldn't be changed. A different kind of ghost.

"I felt very alive."