( no. he wouldn't put dick in such reckless danger. not willingly, at least.
a slight glance back to dick over his shoulder, he keeps walking. )
Seems like it.
( because he sure doesn't have any sort of superpowers back in gotham.
the station they're in is clearly abandoned and has all the telltale signs of having been so for some time now. flickering fluorescent lights hang above with a few extra strung along to give a little more light to the area he's walking towards, where there's a bit of a setup that's been done, though nothing in the way of the batcave he has in gotham or that dick might be used to.
his laptop is there on the table, open and running some sort of encrypted program, while power cords, screwdrivers, tools, and other things are all scattered across it. all of this looks very temporary, as if he might be gone should dick try and find this spot later.
standing there at the table, he pulls his cowl off and sighs, setting it down on the table. his hair's a mess [if cowl hair is a thing] and the black greasepaint around his eyes has smudged some, hands wrapped in white bandages after he removes his gloves which join his cowl there on the table. even without the paint smeared around his eyes, he looks tired. there's a chair there for dick to sit on if he wants, bruce reaching over across the table he's standing at for a briefcase of sorts that he drags closer, popping it open. pulling a few things out. )
no subject
a slight glance back to dick over his shoulder, he keeps walking. )
Seems like it.
( because he sure doesn't have any sort of superpowers back in gotham.
the station they're in is clearly abandoned and has all the telltale signs of having been so for some time now. flickering fluorescent lights hang above with a few extra strung along to give a little more light to the area he's walking towards, where there's a bit of a setup that's been done, though nothing in the way of the batcave he has in gotham or that dick might be used to.
his laptop is there on the table, open and running some sort of encrypted program, while power cords, screwdrivers, tools, and other things are all scattered across it. all of this looks very temporary, as if he might be gone should dick try and find this spot later.
standing there at the table, he pulls his cowl off and sighs, setting it down on the table. his hair's a mess [if cowl hair is a thing] and the black greasepaint around his eyes has smudged some, hands wrapped in white bandages after he removes his gloves which join his cowl there on the table. even without the paint smeared around his eyes, he looks tired. there's a chair there for dick to sit on if he wants, bruce reaching over across the table he's standing at for a briefcase of sorts that he drags closer, popping it open. pulling a few things out. )