The difficulty is in naming the feeling that follows- because Bruce can't deny that there's a part of him that immediately recoils at the concept- the idea that he could have some kind of ultimate say over another person's life, choices, behavior. But there is another part of him, a darkness that Bruce has recognized for many years now, that tries again and again to control the uncontrollable. To account for every possibility- to prepare, for everything. By that measure the offer he makes isn't appealing or unappealing. It's both.

Bruce feels his spine want to stiffen, to draw up straight, the way he might prepare for a punch. For an uncomfortably long moment, it's quiet. He doesn't speak, the soldier doesn't speak, and there are no chirping crickets or calling birds.

When he takes the last step forward it's just enough to bring his face into the light of the other man's lantern. The removing of a mask. Bruce's eyebrow is split. There are stitches there and over the bridge of his nose. The entire left side of his face is mottled with heavy bruising and his lip is swollen- so too is his right hand. Two of the bones had been broken, he's wearing a homemade splint.

"That's too much responsibility for me. If you can give me your word, I'll take it."

It isn't, of course, that simple. But Bruce is hiding two people inside the museum at his back and it's in his best interest to keep the area clear, and quiet. Besides, this isn't a kind of power he can be trusted with. He knows himself well enough to know that.