It isn't rope, it's cable. He doesn't yet have the full measure of Riku's abilities and knows that while their fight had shown him a young man at the peak of his desperation, Bruce doesn't mistake that for being the peak of his capability. It's the reason that the cable creaks but doesn't yield, the way that soft rope fiber might. The memory of his mother is there, smiling playfully before she taps the tip of her finger against his nose: If you can't be good, be careful.
Bruce reaches the top of the stairs and regards him in silence. Watches him test his strength, the strength of the bonds. Riku's expression twists, the shape of his mouth is wretched and bare for the way his eyes are covered. His knuckles are bleeding freshly.
"It's for your safety."
This wouldn't be an adequate explanation for anyone, but it isn't meant to be. Bruce uses it to announce his presence, a quiet, measured voice from a short distance away. He's damp with sweat and sore from the exertion of the morning- to say nothing of the healing his body has yet to be allowed to begin. He knows that Riku will not be able to see through the fabric over his face, but that isn't the reason his posture is so precise. That's simply practice.
"We've been experiencing hallucinations for several days, largely visual and auditory. Accompanied by persistent hands that grab and touch."
He paces his way forward, eyes landing on the broad line of Riku's shoulders. The red on his knuckles, the mottled bruising across his face and the dark, swollen circle beneath one eye. The bruises starting around his wrists. There is no creak of floorboards beneath him and by extension there's very little means to follow his movements without using his voice as a point of reference. And that's what Bruce is trying to do. To let himself be followed. To offer information in the hope that it might help him clear his head, stay calm. He's known Riku to be a thoughtful, reasonable personality thus far. There's no reason to believe he can't be that again.
"The hands have vanished, but I can't be certain that the hallucinations have stopped entirely."
There are inches between them. Bruce stands in the narrow crescent of his space and knows that he has many reasons to refuse. But.
"I'd like to keep you this way for a little longer. Just in case."
riku had modesty??? source???
Bruce reaches the top of the stairs and regards him in silence. Watches him test his strength, the strength of the bonds. Riku's expression twists, the shape of his mouth is wretched and bare for the way his eyes are covered. His knuckles are bleeding freshly.
"It's for your safety."
This wouldn't be an adequate explanation for anyone, but it isn't meant to be. Bruce uses it to announce his presence, a quiet, measured voice from a short distance away. He's damp with sweat and sore from the exertion of the morning- to say nothing of the healing his body has yet to be allowed to begin. He knows that Riku will not be able to see through the fabric over his face, but that isn't the reason his posture is so precise. That's simply practice.
"We've been experiencing hallucinations for several days, largely visual and auditory. Accompanied by persistent hands that grab and touch."
He paces his way forward, eyes landing on the broad line of Riku's shoulders. The red on his knuckles, the mottled bruising across his face and the dark, swollen circle beneath one eye. The bruises starting around his wrists. There is no creak of floorboards beneath him and by extension there's very little means to follow his movements without using his voice as a point of reference. And that's what Bruce is trying to do. To let himself be followed. To offer information in the hope that it might help him clear his head, stay calm. He's known Riku to be a thoughtful, reasonable personality thus far. There's no reason to believe he can't be that again.
"The hands have vanished, but I can't be certain that the hallucinations have stopped entirely."
There are inches between them. Bruce stands in the narrow crescent of his space and knows that he has many reasons to refuse. But.
"I'd like to keep you this way for a little longer. Just in case."