No, Bruce thinks. I suspect it isn't. I've seen your body.
Whether the scarred state of him is something Vanitas feels self conscious about is a moot point. Bruce has never seen him this physically bare before, but when he measures that against the amount of alcohol he's had the answer becomes even less conclusive. It only serves to bring them around to his original point- alcohol adjusts reasoning. Choices are made that wouldn't be otherwise.
It speaks to his experience weathering discomfort that Vanitas doesn't just allow the words to go in one ear and out the other. Like so many times before, despite his assumes volatility, he listens. He's not an openly eager student, but he soaks up the information he's given and questions it further, testing its weight and practicality. It's a quality he appreciates- but it's also a quality he sees value in nurturing. So long as he continues to ask, Bruce has made the decision to continue meeting him with honesty.
The ghost lingers. His master, he'd said.
Bruce's hands are pale, he has a home-made splint around two fingers and he believes at least one of them is broken. The black and blue bruising travels up his knuckles and blurs against the deep purple and yellow along his forearms, from time spent defending against Riku's furious blows. Despite this, he's very steady. There's no tremor in the way he lifts the pan or maneuvers the long fork, portioning Vanitas's greasy breakfast onto a plate.
no subject
Whether the scarred state of him is something Vanitas feels self conscious about is a moot point. Bruce has never seen him this physically bare before, but when he measures that against the amount of alcohol he's had the answer becomes even less conclusive. It only serves to bring them around to his original point- alcohol adjusts reasoning. Choices are made that wouldn't be otherwise.
It speaks to his experience weathering discomfort that Vanitas doesn't just allow the words to go in one ear and out the other. Like so many times before, despite his assumes volatility, he listens. He's not an openly eager student, but he soaks up the information he's given and questions it further, testing its weight and practicality. It's a quality he appreciates- but it's also a quality he sees value in nurturing. So long as he continues to ask, Bruce has made the decision to continue meeting him with honesty.
The ghost lingers.
His master, he'd said.
Bruce's hands are pale, he has a home-made splint around two fingers and he believes at least one of them is broken. The black and blue bruising travels up his knuckles and blurs against the deep purple and yellow along his forearms, from time spent defending against Riku's furious blows. Despite this, he's very steady. There's no tremor in the way he lifts the pan or maneuvers the long fork, portioning Vanitas's greasy breakfast onto a plate.
"What was?"