[Bruce Wayne is supposed to be easy going and that's why the reply is conversational, even if he hasn't yet left the entrance. The woman, Villanelle, looks back at him when she asks her question, and it's the reason he nods in her direction while the door is open and the sun outside comes streaming in. He's not expecting to be unable to open them, but that doesn't keep the strange sense of relief from washing over him all the same. Bruce looks outside, at where they've come from. Then gives the door an experimental back and forth, checking for noise- a creak of hinges, a betrayal of movement. He closes them quietly once more.
It leaves his mind space to go back to her introduction, Villanelle. A unique name to be sure. Perhaps her parents were poets. Perhaps they traveled- because the name is French and the verse form is French and her accent is subtle- but it is not.]
I'm Bruce. [His head tips.] That's Peter.
I'm going to stay here, heights always make my hands sweaty. Please try not to fall off the top.
[It's probably unnecessary to say it- to say both things really, but then that too is cultivated. He doesn't move to follow them, or even to join them- so the decision to remain in the church's atrium is clear before any official announcement is made. Perhaps it's one of many distinct differences between he and Peter. Where one wants to go up, the other wants to go down. His intention is to look for the perpetually closed trapdoor.]
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[Bruce Wayne is supposed to be easy going and that's why the reply is conversational, even if he hasn't yet left the entrance. The woman, Villanelle, looks back at him when she asks her question, and it's the reason he nods in her direction while the door is open and the sun outside comes streaming in. He's not expecting to be unable to open them, but that doesn't keep the strange sense of relief from washing over him all the same. Bruce looks outside, at where they've come from. Then gives the door an experimental back and forth, checking for noise- a creak of hinges, a betrayal of movement. He closes them quietly once more.
It leaves his mind space to go back to her introduction, Villanelle. A unique name to be sure. Perhaps her parents were poets. Perhaps they traveled- because the name is French and the verse form is French and her accent is subtle- but it is not.]
I'm Bruce. [His head tips.] That's Peter.
I'm going to stay here, heights always make my hands sweaty.
Please try not to fall off the top.
[It's probably unnecessary to say it- to say both things really, but then that too is cultivated. He doesn't move to follow them, or even to join them- so the decision to remain in the church's atrium is clear before any official announcement is made. Perhaps it's one of many distinct differences between he and Peter. Where one wants to go up, the other wants to go down. His intention is to look for the perpetually closed trapdoor.]