nightlife | open.

[ Honestly, that "alright" sums it all up pretty well. Bruce is a smart guy, he knows he doesn't need to dumb it down for him. So he takes that one-word response to what's been on his mind without a hint of offense for sharing because... yeah. It's a lot.

When their food is placed down before them, there's a brief pause in his staring to the man to smile and thank the waitress for it. Looks ok as far as he's concerned. But the smiles slip away the moment that she does and he licks over his lips as he mulls over something.

Ah, screw it. ]

There's... also the possibility of... time travel. [ And he says those last two words so carefully while he looks to Bruce out of the corner of his eye again. Debating. ] Or... the reversal of time. Which I may or may not have done a couple times.

[ He'd seen it when he first jumpstarted the motherbox for Clark's revival. Something so small and barely even noticeable to him with pulling back just a couple seconds so he could give the motherbox that kick it needed. For as fast as he is, there's still moments where he doesn't always make it there in time which is ironic for a speedster, yeah.

But he falls silent then as he stabs at his eggs, wanting to start shoveling them into his mouth but finding himself unable to when this topic is hanging there between them. So, instead, he pushes them around on his plate, looking as if he means to say something before closing his mouth and then trying again. When he does, it's without looking to Bruce and his voice is soft. ]

We didn't win the first time. [ He starts with that, still not looking up from his plate. ] I was still injured and couldn't get to Victor. By the time I was was able to get up, there was this explosion and I uh... [ Slipped into the speed force to avoid the blast, to figure out what had happened to his horror. ] ...I ran back through time. I fixed it.

[ He looks up to Bruce then, that socially awkward twenty-five year old replaced with a more serious and quiet persona. One of a young man who clearly carries his own weights on his shoulders. ]

I probably shouldn't have done that because if movies tell us anything about butterfly effects and changing the course of history and consequences that come from that... [ Although who's to say he wasn't supposed to do that? Cue the whole is fate or the future already predetermined debate.

Pursing his lips, his leg bounces again under the table before he finally lets himself look over to Bruce. ] ...but you're here now, so. That's what matters really.

[ And that was his "hey, you kinda died on account of me, sorry about that, man, but I fixed it" speech. ]

[ It's Barry's effortless intellect that Bruce is reflecting on, in this instance. Cutting through everything to explain as commonplace as if he accidentally spilled pasta all over a beige carpet. Most people, when stumbling into godlike powers, would not be able to figure out what's happening to them. They might become too disoriented to parse it, withdraw into fear, or simply shrug it off.

As if it were a dream.

Hah. ]

I know, [ Bruce says, around methodical dissection of eggs and hashbrown. He's watching his plate, having reeled his gaze back from the outside at some point. He should be telling Barry to shut up, but anyone listening to this conversation will just think they're insane, anyway, but he's confident they aren't being specifically observed. Maybe. Sort of. Alright, mostly he's pretending he isn't panicking, but some instincts continue on auto-pilot, when they're so trained in.

Saying it - I know - leaves him shocked at himself, though nothing shows on his face. He isn't certain he did know at all, before just now. But a grim certainty has set in listening to all of that, and the pieces slot together too well. He hates the shape of it. ]

You did the right thing. [ Bruce looks up, at last. His gaze is level and serious. It's okay. And then he pauses, an uncharacteristic hesitation, before: ] I have something to show you when we get back.

[ Well. That... could have been worse? Not that he really knew what he'd been expecting when more or less fessing up to the whole... everything that... happened, but. Who knows what Bruce might have thought. Maybe he would have considered tampering with time to be something No One should do, not even for the so-called Greater Good of it all. Plus, again... movies and tv anyone? Bruce's lack of cartoons aside, he has to have seen science fiction films about time travel and, with being as smart as he is, have his own Thoughts about messing with it all, so.

But it's that reassurance that comes a moment after that really has Barry feel a bit more at ease and it shows in the way he sheepishly looks up from his plate to the man. Because, deep down, he believes he was right to do it as well. To rewind time for just a few moments, get Victor to where he needed to be, and give them all a second chance. To bring them back. If he could have done the same with his mother back then...

He doesn't let that thought bury him in a guilt he doesn't deserve and, instead, pokes at his plate a bit again. Maybe even actually shoveling some of those eggs into his mouth rather than push them around the plate like he's suddenly lost his appetite; as if that would ever happen let's be real here.

Nodding, he swallows as he reaches out for his drink and eyes Bruce a little curiously while he takes a sip. So they're going back to his place after this? Well, ok. He's fine with that. Really. Just... probably the most time he's spent with the guy outside of their whole first meeting with one another. ]

Show me... what?

[ Bruce is being rude, letting Barry pour all of this out and languish over his pancakes while he sits here almost completely silent, basically refusing to react. But he isn't sure what he could say. Do. Offer. Anything at all; he believes him entirely, and even in Barry's uncertainty here and there - possibilities and shouldn't haves - Bruce thinks he's dead on the money. He wishes he had the emotional skills necessary to communicate his support and acceptance of what Barry is telling him, but unfortunately, Bruce doesn't, and can only pick through measly offerings as he endeavours not to see orange-hued wastelands creeping in on them.

It makes sense. It glues things together. They couldn't have succeeded without Barry, and Barry couldn't have come as close without them.

The problem, besides sitting in public discussing obviously insane shit and trying not to tip anyone off that they're costumed superheroes who saved the world a few weeks ago, is that Bruce doesn't want it to make sense. After recovering from his psychotic break, he had to come to terms with his dreams being paranoid delusions. That isn't Superman. That isn't Clark.

Except, it is Barry Allen. ]

You'll have to be patient. [ See, look. Everything is fine. Bruce is eating his food and drinking his coffee like a normal person who isn't silently freaking out. His phone doesn't buzz, which means either Clark isn't paying attention to his biometrics, or he is, and knows better than to interrupt. (Let's not touch on his easy acceptance of the possibility of that kind of invasive observation, speaking of recovering from devastating mental health episodes.) ]

How's the food?

[ To be fair, Barry just has a way of... getting a little excited at times. Bat signal and Bat Base of Operations prime examples of such a thing. He is keeping his voice to a low enough level at least? So, there's that going for them with this whole Talk of theirs happening in a diner during the middle of the night.

Something else he can cross off his bucket list: greasy diner date with Bruce Wayne. When will your faves?

Either way, he's shoveling his food into his mouth and wondering if he's Said Too Much with how quiet Bruce seems to be about it. After all, it's not like he's exactly privy to the thoughts that go on in the man's mind and Barry himself is just a little more forthcoming with his thoughts between the two of them. But, he figures if there really was a problem Bruce had with what he'd done or said, he'd be a little more obvious about it with A Look or kick under the table or something. As it stands? He seems to be in the clear, so.

That whole you'll have to be patient though... yeah, that gets the speedster to toss his own Look Bruce's way as he dabs at his mouth with a paper napkin. Don't want any crumbs there after all. ]

Yeah, patience... isn't exactly something I'd list under my strong suits. [ Just saying. ] Do I get like a hint or something at least? Along with this [ a beat ] very delicious food.

[ Which he's about to be done in five, four, three, two... ]

Nope.

[ Bruce is a paradox of patience. He is both willing to do things like sit on a rooftop in the rain for eight hours solid, unmoving, waiting for a single mark, and spend years dedicated to unravelling a case, but also refuses to spend too many days a year doing things like this. Wastes time.

Not quite Speed Force level struggles. Which he is aware of. So, a wry caution, ] Don't go trying to push us through time to figure it out.

[ That will not help. Not with what Bruce has in store (which is potentially not that exciting, though it is potentially dire, how's that for a date), and not with him finishing his own food, which is still not halfway done. There's some bacon he hasn't even made a dent in. ]

Forensic work is a lot of hurry up and wait, you know.

[ How's he going to manage that? Get his jitters out knocking over criminals, siphoning cases from the police unit? Bruce wonders. Hopes so, but at the same time, hopes he finds himself not needed as much in Central City as someone like Batman is needed in Gotham. Time for a life, to not have to devote his whole identity to a mask. Time that might be shorter than they know, all things (in this world and others) considered. ]

[ Oh, so he really just went and said that, did he? Well here comes the scoff of disbelief and a pointing of his fork in Bruce's direction. ]

F.y.i. I've only ever gone backwards, not forwards. [ A beat, lips pursed. ] Although I might have maybe considered such possibilities since then but. That's tbd for the moment.

[ Something he'll have to figure out and cautiously test. Maybe. He still doesn't like to go breaking that rule but... there could be some good out of doing so. Things he still needs to figure out for himself. Make your own future. Make your own past.

Unlike Bruce, Barry's finished his greasy grub and not as a means to get them out of here quicker. He just eats fast. Like wolfing down that entire pizza when they first met. The life of a Snackhole who burns everything up way faster than normal.

Brushing his hands over his thighs, he takes a moment to just settle before his overactive mind touches on something he deems important and he looks back over to Bruce with teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a second. ]

Yeah but- can I just... I mean... can you keep what I told you on the downlow from the others? [ A sheepish look, he puffs out a sigh, scratching at his cheek. ] It's just... not really a big deal and I figure it's probably better? To just not have to worry about something that didn't happen but did except it didn't because... yeah.

Edited 2021-06-16 08:21 (UTC)

[ Is it only backwards, technically, if he's continued to exist in the same (or "same") continuity? Are the points between where he began the rewind and where he took his finger off the button 'forward' in time, or a kind of temporal no man's land? Bruce continues to eat his 4am breakfast, observing Barry, voicing none of these thoughts.

Time Guy. Static Future. Clock Man.

Horrible.

Bruce can't answer the tender plea, because their waitress returns with more coffee. He asks her about making a second round of his order (without the eggs), to go. Alfred can complain about reheating it, but secretly enjoy the unrestrained luxury of shitty diner food.

When they're relatively alone again, Bruce nods slowly. Still thinking, but offering agreement anyway. ]

Of course, [ he says, nearly done with his food by now. ] It isn't something that you should be expected to shoulder alone, though.

[ Picking up something for Alfred is probably a good idea and Barry has to wonder if the older man is even up at this hour. Not that he thinks he needs to be in bed by eight or something just, you know, the guy could use a break sometimes? Yeah he's just... going to not say anything on that. He likes Alfred ok?

That part about not needing to shoulder things on his own, however, has Barry toss a curious glance over to Bruce. ]

Says the guy who probably shoulders a lot more alone than I do?

[ Yeah he's calling the guy out after he's treated him (so far) to this late night diner outing plus milkshakes PLUS not being peeved at finding him just chilling in the back of his car in the middle of the night. A little ballsy to do? Maybe. But it's not with malicious intent or even snide in how he does. Rather, he offers him a quiet but understanding look before he glances down to his lap and fishes out his phone from his pocket. ]

Wow. Look at the time. We better get going if you want to show me that thing.

[ And he leans in a bit to wink before he blinks, squints, pauses. ]

Wait that... kinda came off more creepy than I intended it to.

[ Just a bit. ]

I'll drive this time?

It just means I know what it's like, [ Bruce points out, with the annoying authority of someone who did not have a looming figure break into his creepy warehouse when he was twenty-five. He had Alfred, and a half dozen other serious mentors over the years, but they were all fucking nuts, so.

Maybe he'd have liked help. Camaraderie. Support in some way that wasn't doomed to abandonment, betrayal, and death. (Still could be, he supposes, but why dig graves you can't fill yet.)

Anywhoo. Eyebrows up, beneath the hat. That thing. What will this waitress think of them, Barry. ]

Do you know how to drive a stick shift?

[ He can see the clamshell in a plastic bag being ferried their way, so Bruce consults his wallet, prepared to overcompensate as usual on the tip. He has lobbied for comfortable living wages for all servicepeople before, but it's always just him and the Ben and Jerry's guys in senate hearings. So, tips it is. ]

[ And this would be where the record scratch comes in. ]

You drive stick shift?

[ He feels he knows this. Or should since, they kinda drove over here together. In the same car. Sitting there right beside Bruce while trying not to get milkshake all over the seats. Yeah. Guess he'd been a little bit more interested in other things? A mystery. But. Now he's not so sure he's feeling super confidant about taking Bruce's hot wheels for a spin back to his place.

When that clamshell is brought on over in that plastic bag, Barry takes this as their cue to exit and certainly catches that curiously questioning look on their waitress' face.

So. Just to clear up any sort of mis-communi-kay going on here, he gestures between him and Bruce with a finger as he slips out of the booth. All smiles. ]

We're together. I mean- we work together. We're... co-workers. At the same... place of work.

[ Ok he is... so not selling this and he's just gonna stop right there with an awkward rub of the back of his head and just duck right on out of there, bye!! Normal non-metahuman speed. No flashy lightning bolt super speed. But he definitely keeps a certain sort of speed about him that would make you think he was a professional mall walker. ]

Why do I say half the things I do sometimes? Not cool, Barry. So not cool.

[ Muttering to himself as he waits for Bruce, he shoves his hands deep into his pockets and hurries on over to the car. ]

Uh, so. Maybe I'm not that well-versed with the whole stick shift kinda life? You know, if we're being honest here with each other about things.

[ Aka maybe he should just NOT try and drive this... very expensive car. ]

[ Bruce leaves too much money for the tab, but not too too much money. Enough to not look like a total prick despite driving a nice car and having an expensive watch on, but not enough to warrant anyone digging through security footage to see who he is out of awe. A fine balance, especially with the way wages fluctuate.

In the parking lot, he huffs an exhale of air, and it almost sounds like a laugh. Barry's ridiculousness is charming despite everything. ]

Well. [ Clickclick, the doors open. ] Want to learn?

[ Bruce stands where he is, letting the younger pan pick driver or passenger. If all else fails, Bruce is adept in yanking a steering wheel this way and that while also operating the gear shaft with the wrong hand. And he can afford another one of these no problem. (Though he's probably getting a BMW for his next around town car, the doors on this thing get tedious.)

Possibly a moment levity before he shows Barry what he's got on file back at the cave. ]

[ If it's him in the store again, he's going to be so underwhelmed because yeah, hi, he knows you have that footage, Bruce. Or, you know, at least his picture from it.

But oh. He's... actually getting a choice here? Well... then... so much power. No, not really. He does, however, look over to the other man a little more thoughtfully which, with Barry, only really lasts for a couple of seconds with how quick he is to process things. Pros and cons, the good and the bad, should and shouldn't. Ultimately, he run his hand over his mouth to grasp his chin in "thought" before he smiles over to Bruce. ]

Yeah sure. You only live once, right?

[ Or... not really since... time reversal but... anyways.

Zipping around to the driver's side of the car, he keeps that eager smile on his face and holds his hand out for the keys. ]

Can I just say I completely admire the amount of trust you continue to have in me and everything that I do?

Don't go driving my trust into a wall, then, huh? [ says Bruce as he leans into the car from the other side, tossing Barry the key fob (even though he could push-button start it, he looks so pleased to be given them—) and then setting the take-out in the floor of the back seat.

Doors: Close. Seatbelts: on. Meme competition line. ]

Alright, so you've got one hand on the wheel, and the other on the gear.

[ Bruce can drive anything, can build a car from scratch, but ME ON THE OTHER HAND DRIVES A MEDIOCRE HONDA WITH AN AUTOMATIC,, so,,, Barry is subjected to patient but direct instruction, about the placement of the gear shaft and when to hit the gas.

If all else fails, ('You're flooding it') Bruce can handle the shifting and Barry can just press down on the pedal and steer. Teamwork.

Halfway back: ] You can drive in general, though, right.

[ Wow, Bruce. Ye of little faith and all that. But Barry makes himself nice and comfortable there in the driver's seat of this fine beauty of a car and he can hardly believe he's actually behind the wheel of it as a driver and not over there in the passenger seat a usual. How many of these does Bruce have again? Not important and he quickly dismisses the thought as Bruce goes and asks what he does.

Barry? Just gives a long uhhhhhhhhhh before answering. ]

...if by driving you mean making a getaway in GTA, then yeah, sure. But hey, no time like the present for a crash course, right?
[ Waggling his brows over at Bruce, he laughs about two point five seconds later and waves a hand around dramatically. ] I'm kidding! Of course I know. Wow, what kind of person do you take me for? [ A beat, as he starts up the ignition. ] Don't actually answer that?

[ Hands on the steering wheel, he grips it nice and tight, teeth sinking down into his bottom lip before he throws a curious smile over to Bruce. Does he look good behind the wheel, Bruce? Does he? ]

So how fast can this baby go? [ Once again, a beat, because a thought comes to him and he looks to Bruce Super Seriously. ] Can I drive the Batmobile?

Some cities have very good public transportation, [ Bruce says mildly. It's perfectly ordinary for people in urban areas to not need to drive, and Barry has an edge when it comes to transport times. Maybe he never bothered. Anyway.

He looks very cute, yes. ]

Fast. No.

[ Bruce flips on the police scanner again. No need to get a ticket. Also no need to look like he's got a guy half his age in the car with him in the wee hours of the morning in front of some jackhole highway patrol officers. So: safety first, beepboop. ]

Watch your turn signals.

[ You know, wherever those are, on this thing. ]

[ Honestly, he more or less expected the no there in regards to the whole wanting to drive the Batmobile thing but. That doesn't stop him from tossing a pouty frown Bruce's way for another two point five seconds before he's, as always, over it. ]

Uh, yeah. Definitely what I'm doing... or going to do.

[ Because, you know, he's totally peeled them out of this dingy diner parking lot and already started for Bruce's place. Because who has time for dilly-dallying with getting them from point A to point B. Not this guy right here.

He shifts a little in his seat and drives with a smile on his face, one hand on the wheel and one on the stick shift as instructed. ]

Pretty sure I already told you thanks for this whole impromptu and slightly weird late night outing together that absolutely is not work related, but. To reiterate that and how much it may or may not mean to me, thanks for tonight.

[ A beat. ]

For a lot of things. Like listening. I mean, I know I can sometimes really get into things once I get going. Don't have to tell me twice about that. [ He smiles, tossing it over to Bruce for a second. ] But it's just nice to actually have someone there- people. I don't know. I've spent so long drifting from one place to the next and just keeping to myself that I get... excited for moments like these. Where you feel... normal.

[ Fingers tight on the steering wheel, he minds the corners as he turns down a road and chuckles a bit as he looks over to Bruce. ]

Whatever that is for a couple of guys like us, am I right?

Edited 2021-06-24 20:02 (UTC)

[ Vroom vroom. No point waiting around; in this city, loitering - even in an idled car - is an open invite for someone to peer inside and start something. Never-ending intrigue in what was once America's greatest city, and now the planet's strangest dead-end.

At least they've still got a Dairy Queen. Well. Barry does alright. Bruce does correct him, now and again, but it isn't sharp. He's learned lessons about being an overbearing instructor years ago.

A thoughtful sound, at the end of the younger man's torrent of words. He's becoming more used to it as time goes on. ]

Is that what it is, [ he says eventually. There's something like reflection in his voice. Turning over Barry's idea, inspecting it. ] Normalcy.

[ Perhaps a too-revealing response. Bruce doesn't know what normal feels like, outside of endless nights of violence interspersed with isolating himself with his adopted father, and their mutual alcoholism. Hm.

Is this friendship??? Are they all friends? Is Bruce actually doing something right. What. That doesn't sound correct. ]

[ Yes, Bruce. That's exactly what this is. Guys being dudes. Looks like you have a team now so you're just gonna have to Deal With It.

But Barry only chuckles a bit at the normalcy comment tossed like this and just nods to agree, keeping those eyes of his on the road ahead of them since, you know, kind of important and not like he has super vision like Clark does (right??) or whatever.

There's a sort of silence that hangs between them as they go, Barry mostly wanting to make sure he's going the right way and also not screw up with this whole Driving Stick thing he totally told Bruce he could handle. But there's also something nagging at him and it shows in the way he chews on his bottom lip. His mind forever jumping from one thing to the next, he glances over at Bruce and clears his throat then, shifting a bit in his seat. ]

So, uh... would you say it's... probably not a good idea to... you know. [ A glance over to Bruce, just half a second really. ] Uh... hook up with someone you know. [ Wait. ] I mean- work with. Like... on a team? A team of... superheros?

[ Wow he could have delivered that a whole lot better but. There it is. ]

[ It's nice. Which in itself is strange, but Bruce tries not to overanalyze it, and simply accept the unusual state of affairs. This period of recovery has allowed him to inhabit those feelings in a way he hasn't since he was much younger. When he was less in the deep end of his tangle of mental health landmines and lost loved ones.

Nice of Clark to resurrect him too, when he came out of the weird alien life goop they kindly made Arthur stand in. (What was that conversation like. You're the water guy, you go stand in the weird alien life goop with the corpse.)

Huh, we're back on this subject, as the back roads zip by. Bruce reaches between them, and there's a spare second for Barry to speed his hand away - if not, Bruce's larger one closes over his on the gear, shifting it properly for the incline up to the Palisades. ]

Is this about Diana again? [ A little wry. ] You could just ask her. But I doubt she'll love being hounded as the only woman currently on the team.

[ Have some manners. Fumble awkwardly like a fuckin idiot over a computer mouse. It'll go fine! Bruce considers them together, briefly; his mind doesn't reject it. Diana deserves to laugh and be lighter. They all do. He also considers, less briefly, a universe where everyone on this haphazard team has the questionable slutty ethics he does. What might that look like.

(Hot, it'd look hot. Which is why he stops thinking about it.) ]

Edited (someday i'll proofread my tags) 2021-06-27 08:35 (UTC)

[ So lost in his thoughts and just hearing Victor telling him to not do anything stupid, he only notices Bruce's hand moving there when it's suddenly atop his own and Barry's gaze drops down almost instantly. Words are... gone. Like really. What are even words? He has no idea because all he can do is just sit there in silence and let the other man help with the shifting of the gear, completely not dealing with a hummingbird for a heartbeat in the dead of night here on the road. God, why does he feel Victor's judging gaze on him from behind when the other isn't even here? Spoiler alert: this might have been why he'd wound up in Bruce's car in the first place earlier on. He likes Victor. He's a great pal - a bro - to hang around and shoot the shit with, especially with theories and all, but. He sometimes just Tells It Like It Is and Barry sometimes doesn't always like hearing that, so.

Thankfully, Bruce cuts through the various scenarios and conversations zipping around in his head with that question about Diana and he flicks his gaze up with a bewildered sort of look on his face. ]

Oh my god- what? [ Shaking his head, he stares a little too long at Bruce before he looks back ahead and just... laughs. Awkwardly. Super awkwardly. ] I... no. Not no as in she's not like super hot and strong and could kick my ass without even trying. But no as in I'm n-not talking about her and I'm p-pretty sure she looks at me as too young for her anyways. Like... really super young.

[ Internally, he cringes as he catches himself starting to stutter what with his getting nervous and he suddenly feels like this is him and Bruce meeting all over again with his stumbling over his own words while attempting to make it seem like He's Totally Got This. Hint: he doesn't. ]

I was just wondering what your thoughts were... on that k-kinda stuff. You're like... the boss, right?

[ He put together the team after all. ]

How many five thousand-year-old suitors do you think might be out there? [ Bruce is using his perfectly reasonable voice, mild and almost soft-spoken for how deep and rough he always sounds. Perhaps detectable for what it is, which is teasing. ] She deserves a nice date as much as anyone else.

[ Okok. Bruce'll take pity on him, glancing over at Barry with a smile that's mostly in his eyes - difficult to do so much emoting in one night, for a guy who usually schedules his yearly facial expression. ]

We're all adults, Barry. I'm not going to report you to HR for anything.

[ Interesting note, if he doesn't mean Diana, but to find anyone's skittish bisexuality worth remarking on he'd have to be a bigger hypocrite than he already is. A sigh, and he looks back out at the road, despite staying almost preternaturally aware of the younger man's handling of the vehicle. ]

All my exes are felons, anyway, I'm not allowed to advise on the subject.

[ They are all adults, that's right, and it's why Barry is wondering why he's being such a geek about this. Probably because he's actually talking to Bruce and not about Bruce like he might have been earlier with Victor. You know, while they'd been sitting around and fiddling with this and that sort of tech.

The part about his exes, however, gets Barry to glance over a little curiously as they go up that incline and he gives a thoughtful tilt of his head. He... really has no idea about anything concerning Bruce's love life or lack thereof and that's... totally normal. It's not like they've known each other for years or wear matching best friends forever necklaces or something. Plus, the guy has a habit of keeping quiet and to himself a lot of the time, something Barry can understand since he sure has Those Days, but.

Licking over his lips, he shrugs a bit while trying to come off as casual as he possibly can when in this expensive car with Bruce Wayne there right beside, driving on up to his place because he wants to show him something after they'd had a late night diner outing together because a certain speedster had texted him that he was going to crash in his car.

Yeah, he's still surprised they got this far, truth be told. ]

Well... maybe you should try someone who bats for the same team then. [ A beat, he tries to inconspicuously look to Bruce out of the corner of his eye. ] I mean... would you?

[ And oh, look at that. They've arrived at Bruce's place. Perfect timing. ]

[ There have been countless dates, photo-ops, cover stories; the real ones are Selina, Talia (and if he is being honest with himsel, Harvey), people on a sliding scale of villainy from wealth re-distribution to out-and-out terrorism. Oh, you like her? That bodes well is an old, sarcastic standby from Alfred.

Parking is less of an ordeal than accelerating up an incline from a stop, but Bruce still guides Barry into leaving the car alongside the path to the house. Sitting there silent and dark in the early morning, a glass depression cube placed precariously on the water's edge. Five years ago, during a hurricane, it flooded up to his ankles.

He considers Barry's question. Unfolds the stuttering origami of it. ]

Yes, [ he says as he turns around, getting the takeout from the floor of the back seat. That's all. Yes.

It is not a dismissive 'Sure', and not a declaration with intent. Yes, he would. It is factual and honest. Doors open, and Bruce pulls the hat off his head at last, and runs one hand through his greying hair. ]

I don't have to show you. [ Whatever-it-is. He's looking at Barry, now. ] If you'd rather not turn this into a work night.

[ The topic had been deadly serious, when he'd mentioned he had something back at the house. It will be a downer. From this, whatever it may be. ]

[ Ok, so. Yes. Bruce says yes to that and Barry just sort of hums to himself and focuses Really Hard on the road in front of him. Totally not thinking about anything or letting his thoughts to drift off onto the various forks in the road that is his mind. Nope. Not gonna let that happen so that's why he's just focusing on the road ahead.

Except he parked the car already, so. Yeah.

When Bruce gets out, Barry follows after a momentary struggle with his seatbelt and checks his phone which he pockets as he steps out. Door left open, he blinks when Bruce throws that suggestion at him because... isn't this why they came here in the first place? Now he's wondering if he's overthinking or overstepping some invisible boundary here and his fingers tap a little nervously against the roof of the car as he stands there. Super casual. ]

Oh. Uh.

[ What other way is this night supposed to turn into? Things he wants to say but doesn't. Instead, he tilts his head one way and then the other, letting his gaze drift around them out here in the literal middle of nowhere more or less before he swings his gaze back on over to Bruce and the way he looks at him is careful at best. ]

Did you... want me to leave?

[ He's a little... unsure if that's what Bruce is hinting at here. He doesn't think he's saying that but, he also doesn't want to assume anything either. Maybe he's just tired and has had enough of the speedster. After all, he sort of does have A Lot of stamina... in more ways than one. ]

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