theknightshift | inbox (etraya)

Maybe I missed you.

( Not a lie. She'll always miss him. )

Is there somewhere we can talk?

Sounds serious.

[ A few seconds and she gets a location ping. He's somewhere out in Nova City. No doubt brooding on a rooftop all things considered. ]

Edited 2026-01-07 20:42 (UTC)

Some things are better said in person.

Are the others there or just you?

Just me.

See you soon.

( It take maybe a half hour for her to reach Nova City and whatever place he's decided to stake out for now.

When she shows up, she's unfortunately not in her Catsuit, but she's done her best with the things she has here. Leather boots and pants, matching jacket and gloves, and she has her hood pulled up over the short hair as she climbs the last stretch to find him. He'll no doubt here the softness of her approach, and she isn't bothering to try to hide she's here for once. )

It's a nice view up here. ( She greets, stepping up to his side but keeping a respectful distance just barely within arm's reach. )

But it's no Alleytown or Gotham.

[ Bruce doesn't mind the wait. Not for Selina and he's sure she knows that. She'll find him standing solitary like he's become part of the architecture when she approaches. He's dressed for the occasion, since he was out testing the limits of his mostly repaired suit.

He glances at her and nods, short and resolute. ]

It's too quiet. Almost feels like something is waiting to happen.

[ What that something is? He doesn't know. But he does miss the sounds of a proper city. ]

( Looking at him in his suit reminds her of how much she misses her own. There's much less of a reason for her to be the Catwoman here, but something about the suit and her whip, brings her comfort, reminds her of a purpose she'll always have. Being here's been an interesting experience, but she still feels off balance. Like part of herself is missing. And as she glances back at him, meets his eyes briefly, she considers telling him as much.

But she doesn't. Instead, she nods a few times in agreement. )

I know. ( She sighs, watching the cold air cloud past her lips. ) Sometimes a part of thinks I'm going to look out a window and see something. Anything. A thug in a clown mask, a trigger happy scion, or something strange like we'd seen with the Fae. And the worst part is...

( She trails off, her eyes turning towards the skyline. )

I think I might be relieved.

( She doesn't know how to do this.. calm and normal life. )

Edited 2026-01-08 17:59 (UTC)

[ Bruce had the good fortune of coming to Etraya suited up and so he did not have to learn to navigate this world without it. He imagines, if his situation had been similar to Selina's, he wouldn't have wasted any time in getting at least some version of his suit here. All this to say, if Selina had voiced them, Bruce would have understood her feelings. But instead he meets her gaze and she changes her mind and Bruce follows the flow of the conversation. ]

I don't like it.

[ Which probably isn't a surprise. It made getting any amount of sleep, even the handful of hours Bruce got, feel impossible. The quiet makes Bruce feel even more vigilant than usual because he did not trust it. They weren't safe here. Not even close. But he imagines Selina did not come all the way out here to discuss Bruce's paranoia. ]

What did you need to tell me?

( It isn't a surprise. That much is probably obvious from the way her smile spreads, the soft little amused sound she breathes out as she glances over at him. Selina is sure in a place like this, Bruce's paranoia must be an insane thing. Growing and spreading, fed by new unknowns and the lack of control.

As she looks at him, she considers asking. Checking in. Between being stuck in this city, the different missions, and the spread of personalities and circumstances across the people they know here... She wonders how much of it has gotten to him, what might be on its way to starting to eat him from the inside out if he doesn't recognize it soon. And there'd been a time where she'd ask. Thinks she still might eventually. But she's trying to consider what's safe to ask. What he'll even tell her when they aren't together. She thinks he's more likely to dismiss her concern, put the walls up, than share.

The question, though, makes her turn away. She looks out across the view, considers the question. There's so much she wants to tell him: how much she misses her suit; how much she misses Duchess and Eiko and Dario; how disheartening it had been to meet a version of her friend from home who doesn't know her; how frustrated she is with the other Bruce; how much Dante makes her think about them, about Valmont; how she looks at Damian and thinks about how far the two of them had come only to be back to this. A seemingly endless list of things she's had to keep close to her chest, push down, without anyone else to share with. All of it makes her feel as if she's alone here sometimes. But none of that is stuff he needs to know. )

I met Crane. ( Is what she finally voices. She tucks her hands neatly into her pockets, trying to keep the warmth of it in her fingers. ) He gave me a tour of Arkham. ( Her lips spread into a small smirk. )

I thought I'd go back and give myself the VIP tour. ( Her voice is a purr. She's sure he knows what she means - she's going to let herself into all those places Crane told her were off limits or didn't bother to offer a look at. )

[ At home, the rules make sense. And when they don't he can bend them, reshape them, break them until they fit his world view. He's built his life around that sense of control - the flow of a conversation, the tension in a room, the tremor in his hands. In Gotham, it wasn't just a preference. It was a necessity. Survival, his and everyone he's ever cared about. But there are moments, rare and always inopportune, that make him feel like he's slipping.

Etraya plucking him out of his element, away from all his carefully laid out rules of engagement like nothing he's done to protect himself and his family had ever mattered, was that moment. So of course his paranoia would fester like an open wound, spread through him like a disease running its course. And it only rots inside of him when he doesn't know who and what to trust (none of it and no one by his estimation). What does he do with any of that? How does he stop it when he's as much of a pawn as anyone else?

But it was fine. He was making do. And it's not the priority. Selina is. And he watches her with a subtle, but curious tilt of his head. The pause lingers and he wonders if her Crane confession is the whole truth. ]

I saw you talking to him on Chirper.

[ Not that he was reading the conversation or anything. Not like he was asking Barbara if she could get into private conversations or anything. He turns his body towards her because the purr in her voice is always like a magnet. ]

Is that an invitation?

( The world around them might change, the dynamic between them might fluctuate, but at least Selina can trust that he'll always be the same. Case and point, the comment about seeing her talk to him on chirper. She knew he would. It had been why she'd opted to make the conversation a private one. There's no universe where she thinks she could easily and willingly trust Crane, but that doesn't mean Batman or any of the others need to know her conversations with him or anyone else for that matter.

As much as she stands with the Bats these days, Selina is always mindful to remind herself that she isn't a Bat. Her allegiance belongs to the streets of Gotham and Alley Town, to the strays and the discarded. The relationships and curiosities she forms are for her to share in her own time, and she'll always be in a different position to form relationships with her fellow rogues than Batman or any hero. That's something she takes seriously, reminds herself to keep in mind when she offers Bruce a look into those parts in her life.

And she hopes he understands that her sharing here is seen for what it is - a precaution over a mutual person of interest.

She huffs softly, shaking her head at his response.)

Of course you did.

( There's a note of fond exasperation in her voice, but she doesn't sound particularly bothered or upset. She doesn't expect any different from him. There is a defensive part of her that nearly asks who else he's seen her talking to, but there's no point. Batman sees everything he wants to see.

What she focuses on instead is turning to face him fully as he turns, tilting her head with a raised brow. )

Do you want it to be?

[ The worst part, is that Bruce would agree. She isn't one of them. Not in that true sense of the phrase. Not like Barbara or Stephanie and Cass and Duke. Not when he had to question where her loyalties were and how long she'd maintain them. For as long as they were useful was her usual track record. She would stand with them until it suited her better not to. She wouldn't stab him in the back. But there were other ways to betray person, no knives required.

He expects her response. She should have expected his. Crane would be of particular interest to him and she'd certainly know why. Whether he's paid attention to her other conversations is...well she doesn't need to know that does she?

His almost smile matches the fond exasperation in her voice. ]

When are you going?

( She knows him too well to expect anything resembling privacy in a public forum when him or any of the other bats are around. There's a part of her that will never be fine with that, but she's aware of it. Knows when she needs to take things elsewhere for some sense of real privacy or when to shut him out if she wants to get to him.

She thinks she did with the conversation with Crane. Something that, in turn, makes her offer a small smirk of her own. (And maybe so does that almost smile of his.) )

In a few days, I think.

( She muses, lifting a hand to smooth some of her bangs away from her face. )

I'm working on getting my gear here, but until then I'll have to find something else to make due.

( Not ideal, but she doesn't need fancy tools like some people to do what she does. And she thinks maybe it'll be better to give it a couple more days, to let everything that's happened here sink in and let her thoughts settle before she gets into something serious. )

You've been here with him. Should I be worried about what I might find in there?

[ It's a funny thing about Crane. Bruce could see a clear distinction between the two versions of the man he knew. Crane here is familiar enough that Bruce had clocked him long before he'd ever identified himself as Jonathan Crane. But there is something off in that familiarity, like a picture taken out of focus. Enough that it's unsettling. And it only reinforced a universal truth: Crane is not to be trusted.

Bruce had yet to meet the Scarecrow. Halloween had come and gone without his influence. Etraya seemed content to let him stay among them and Bruce, always alert, ever vigilant, would watch him hawkishly. ]

Hrm.

[ Her question stings. Bruce almost doesn't answer. She didn't need to know how he'd gotten into Bruce's head during the Earth mission. She didn't need to know how he influenced him to brutalize his children and build him a way to disperse chemical weapons. She doesn't need to know and he wasn't going to tell her. ]

No. Arkham is as empty.

( Hrm. That says more than Bruce might ever know. It means something's happened, that there's something on his mind that he is doesn't plan on sharing. But if there's anything she's learned over the years is that if she finds just the right spot with her claws, digs them in with just the right pressure in the cracks in his armor, she'll get to what's underneath. It's just a matter of finding the right gaps.

And she has every intention of trying.

She watches him for a long moment before she steps forward. It's slow and deliberate, a graceful slink of her body that puts her carefully into his space. As she does, one hand goes up, softly puts one hand on his bicep. )

Arkham is empty. ( She echoes, looking up at him. The look in her eyes might be familiar - something quiet and soft, searching. A look that says he doesn't have to say it for her to know. Even if her voice is soft, it's sure, when she continues.) But something happened with Crane.

( She's not asking. She doesn't need to. And the steady, firm way her thumb rubs a small circle against his bicep is a way of trying to offer him some form of comfort, that says what she doesn't as she looks up at him: Tell me. )

Edited 2026-01-22 19:10 (UTC)

[ Selina knows how to disarm him. She knows where the weakest parts of his armor are, how to dig her claws in just so and dislodge all of those safeguards like they never mattered. Bruce had shown her how, a long time ago. Sometimes, he regrets it. How open he can be when he's with her. How little effort it takes.

She slinks in close, the hand on his bicep. Eyes searching his. She's already heard what he didn't say. And Bruce thinks about lying. Or saying nothing. It's easier than saying the truth of it. Instead, he repeats himself: ]

Arkham is empty.

[ They'd swept for those bombs. He should look again. But he would do that alone. It was his mess to clean up. His hand hovers above hers, where her thumb rubs circles against his arm. He misses this. Misses her. But can't bring himself to say it. Finally, his fingers settle on her pulse, the beat steady and warm. ]

Be careful, Cat.

( It's never easy with him. Even when they were together, engaged, there were more than a few times when she felt as if she had to dig her nails in a little too far to get something out of him. And now that they aren't together, she's sure it'll be the same if she can get anything out of him at all.

The way he repeats himself only feels like proof.

When she feels the weight of his fingers, she lets her other hand reach up. Her attention is just as soft when she brushes her fingertips against his cheek, under the edge of his mask. And she smiles. )

Aren't I always?

( She wonders quietly, letting her hand cup his cheek and jaw gently. They both know the answer to that, but for the moment, it's not about her. )

Something happened. ( Her voice is careful, soothing. Patient in a way she's learned to be just for him. And even if she knows the answer, she tries to give him an out when she asks: ) Didn't it?

[ She can see him. She's the only person he's ever really allowed to. His children could read him, they knew his tics and tells and little idiosyncrasies. But Selina sees him. She sees those little things and the big ones too and knows how to put it together to make the picture whole. She can see what he's holding back and maybe she can even see how much he wants to say what happened. But the words won't come, like they're stuck in place at the back of his throat.

Something happened. A lot of somethings happened and he didn't have the space to say them all. ]

I argued with the other Batman. Not Langstrom. [ Himself. ]

It escalated and I didn't stop it.

[ Not Crane. But an admission all the same. It's the door opening just a crack, so she can shine a light inside. ]

( She can encourage him, gently steer him towards the edge, but ultimately, Selina knows Bruce always has to step over it on his own. She can never make him talk if he doesn't want to, but she knows how to show that she's here to listen. To support him. Time, patience, compassion - she'll always have those for him.

And it pays off here.

The other Batman. The other Bruce. It isn't a surprise to hear it, but it's not something she wants to hear, either. The last thing she wants for either of them is any kind of conflict or tension, but given who they are, she thinks it's inevitable. And she understands in her own way. Given how things had gone with the other Bruce when she saw him last, it isn't a stretch to imagine something between two such difficult personalities escalating. )

Are you hurt?

( That's the important thing. An injury wouldn't stop him, but if he is injured, she wants to know. Wants to make sure he takes care of himself instead of pushing too hard.

She's otherwise quiet after she asks, letting her touch trace his cowl along his jaw and chin, briefly over his neck before finally letting her hand lower to rest against his chest. A gesture meant to focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest - something familiar, grounding. )

[ Her question twists something inside of him and fresh pain spirals out from the wound. The cut on his shoulder is healing fine. Dick had done the work well enough and it would leave a scar. But what was one more among the many others? But that fight had done more than split skin. It dug up ghosts. Pain Bruce learned to live with without letting it consume him. Tonight it's acute. Precise. A stab right in the heart.

She asks him if he's hurt and the answer is yes. But they're wounds that have never stopped hurting. It's all right, though. Because pain has always been what fuels him. It would knock him down and he would just get back up again and breathe through the worst of it.

He looks at her, allows himself to feel the weight and warmth of her hand on him and it's comforting that she's here. It steadies that twisted up part of him.

It's better than dealing with this alone.]

No.

[ Even if he doesn't say much. ]

( He is hurt, Selina is sure of it. But she tells herself now isn't the time to push it. They'll always be them, a part of her knows that, but she's also still keenly aware of what is hanging over her when (if) she ever returns to Gotham. How their ideals are destined to clash again and again, how there will always be something makes their relationship fracture and split every time. She doesn't want to dig into that tonight, now.

So instead of pressing, she keeps her hand on his chest, tracing the shape of the symbol on his chest. She thinks about how different it is from the younger Bruce's, how every time she stands in front of Bruce - either of them - he always finds a reason to keep something to himself. And she knows sometimes, the way to get him to give a little isn't always with careful prying. Sometimes, she thinks what he needs is to know he isn't alone. )

I argued with the other Batman. ( She confesses, looking down at his chest, the symbol under her fingers for a moment. ) Not Langstrom.

( An echo of his words again, but given the way she looks back up at him, she's being honest. ) I escalated it, and he kicked me out.

( Though she'll stand firmly by the idea that he started it. Even if she was the one who put him on the floor. )

Edited 2026-01-27 19:46 (UTC)

[ He is hurt but Bruce refused to give it words. He would live with it and as always use it to fuel the Mission. It's how he's always dealt with his pain. Selina is here and she makes it easier to live with it all. To see it clearly and know what to do with it. He would endure anyway, but he's glad he doesn't have to here. And he's glad she doesn't press him harder.

Instead he takes in her confession and lets the implications sink in. ]

It seems it's unavoidable.

[ Not said to pass judgement on the younger Bruce. Bruce is aware he's a difficult man to talk to. Even more so if you're close to him. Sometimes fighting is the only way to communicate with him. It's just unfortunate the same is true of his counterpart. ]

Did you win?

There's some parts of you that never seem to change.

( There's a soft edge of amusement to her voice, teasing. They're two different people, she knows that much, but their similarities are too obvious to miss. Parts of him that she thinks would endure no matter the world he's in.

But now isn't the time to get into that.

Instead, her lips spread into a pleased grin. Every bit the cat who got the canary as she leans in a bit towards him, hand pressed flat to the symbol on his chest. )

I put him on the ground. ( She purrs, pleased even if she thinks she shouldn't be. She shouldn't take any kind of joy in doing something like that when she'd clearly upset him, but she won't deny there had been something satisfying in it. )

[ There it is. A break in the stoic facade. She almost gets a chuckle. But it's a quiet, amused exhale of air. But he recovers and becomes the night again. Selina's always the right one to break that wall down to pieces. He should have known better than to let her see even the faintest of cracks in his armor.

Still it's good to see her so clearly pleased with herself. It's even better that she leans in so he can hear the purr in her voice better. There's comfort in hearing something so familiar. It makes that problem with Crane feel so far away.

And the fact that she's close enough to kiss isn't lost on him. ]

You were always the best at that.

[ His smile is small, but almost as mischievous as hers. ]

( There it is. That tiny break that only makes her lips quirk up just a bit further at the edges. Even after all this time, there's always a comfort in knowing she can reach the part of himself that isn't hardened against the rest of the world. She can still find the cracks, whittle them open just a bit further with the right words.

And the fact that he doesn't stop her from leaning in, the way she touches him. Casual and easy. She lets some of her weight tip into him, knowing he'll hold steady, can take her the lean of her weight. )

I'm the best at a lot of things.

( Another silky purr, pleased to see that smile. Just like old times. And there's a few seconds where she just watches him. Takes in the planes of his face around the cowl, the fit of the cowl. Familiar and reassuring.)

Can I ask you something? ( She wonders, and the way her head tilts says she's going to ask anyway regardless of his answer. ) About Clark.

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