"You ask the wrong question." It is a very familiar smile that's been bestowed upon him, and Bruce can admire the careful turning of the conversation. He is, in many ways, the last person that could find fault with someone one's attempts to manipulate- a situation or another. The necessity of controlling the world around it in the hopes that he might better protect himself and others was a lesson learned from a very young age. One that has been reinforced through experience.

Bruce doesn't return the smile but he doesn't scowl either. If he were in another mood, if he were capable of anything around the yawning emptiness in his stomach, perhaps he would have played along. Instead there is a kind of perpetual impassivity that settles over his shoulders, that he wears like a shroud.

"My forgiveness is irrelevant. It is the spirits that were offended."