Vanitas's defiant expression and the petty scowl he makes as he takes another swallow from his glass isn't met with it's match. Bruce doesn't make a habit of cultivating company but that doesn't mean he's inexperienced with it either. The reckless and self-destructive habits don't make him flinch any more than they make him clamp down harder and begin issuing denials. After all, when had that ever worked on Bruce himself? He knows firsthand how easily those kinds of demands can drive a wedge and how vast the divide can become.
Instead there's something measured in his reply- the pitch and tone. It's the way someone might not block a lunge, but choose to counter it instead. It plays into a rhythm even if there isn't yet enough momentum to carry it.
Vanitas leans against the counter and Bruce suspects that it isn't entirely show. His balance is compromised. And the dark circles beneath his eyes are incredibly pronounced. Bruce cracks one egg at a time in neat, careful movements. It isn't unlike the many mornings that had come before- where he'd sat at the island or drawn up a stool, poured over the morning paper and listened to Alfred start their day. There's something almost poetic about the reversal. If Bruce believed in karma, this would certainly make a case for it.
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Vanitas's defiant expression and the petty scowl he makes as he takes another swallow from his glass isn't met with it's match. Bruce doesn't make a habit of cultivating company but that doesn't mean he's inexperienced with it either. The reckless and self-destructive habits don't make him flinch any more than they make him clamp down harder and begin issuing denials. After all, when had that ever worked on Bruce himself? He knows firsthand how easily those kinds of demands can drive a wedge and how vast the divide can become.
Instead there's something measured in his reply- the pitch and tone. It's the way someone might not block a lunge, but choose to counter it instead. It plays into a rhythm even if there isn't yet enough momentum to carry it.
Vanitas leans against the counter and Bruce suspects that it isn't entirely show. His balance is compromised. And the dark circles beneath his eyes are incredibly pronounced. Bruce cracks one egg at a time in neat, careful movements. It isn't unlike the many mornings that had come before- where he'd sat at the island or drawn up a stool, poured over the morning paper and listened to Alfred start their day. There's something almost poetic about the reversal. If Bruce believed in karma, this would certainly make a case for it.