theknightshift | inbox (etraya)

He's Clark.

[ Which answers everything and surprisingly very little. There are little differences, variations that make this Clark distinct from the man he knows back home. But on the whole, Bruce would know him anywhere. The broad strokes were familiar enough that it made him homesick. He follows the flourish of Selina's hand and sits in the chair, tipping his head back into the sink so she could wash his hair. ]

Nothing really changes. Not even in the multiverse.

You're one to talk.

( In her experience, Bruce isn't much different from different worlds, either.

She offers a small grin down at him as he settles into the chair, and then, she's turning her attention to the faucet. Her hands move in easy sweeps, wetting the dark hair, trailing her fingers through the wet strands. There's a gentle graze of her nails against his scalp, and she combs her fingers carefully through his hair to catch whatever loose strands there are.

With her hands in his hair, she doesn't miss the few spots where his hair has fallen out, and she regards him with a careful furrow of her brows. )

Does it hurt?

( The spots where he's lost his hair, she means. )

[ Bruce can't necessarily disagree with her. If his younger self is any indication. They weren't exact copies, but the temperament is similar. Aloof and solitary. Life circumstances that brought them into this life identical in the broad strokes of it. It only proves the more things change, the more they stay the same. Even if he wished they were.

He shuts his eyes when the warm water hits his scalp. The water is soothing, but so is the graze of Selina's nails. For how often they'd sliced through the suit's fibers, it's easy to forget how gentle those nails could be. ]

No, it doesn't hurt.

[ He opens his eyes and looks up at her. ]

It just looks terrible.

( Being here, doing something like this for him, reminds her of a different time. Showers shared, touches traded. It reminds her how much she missed it, how much it feels like those blue eyes see right through her whenever their gaze meets. Not for the first time, she's grateful he's here. More so that even after everything, she can still come to his aid in moments like this.

So she smiles down at him, continues her work. Her nails work against his scalp, fingertips massaging, taking her time. She lets the minutes drag on, uses this as a chance to not just take care of his hair but offer him a moment of relaxation she knows he always needs. Sometimes it feels as if there's not much she can do for him here in Etraya, but she can, at least, do this. )

It'll grow back. ( She reassures, letting her hands work a moment longer before finally cutting the water and gently squeezing some of the water from the dark strands. )

Hand me that towel.

[ It's dangerous to stay like this too long. There's a reason Bruce turns her away when she gets too close because it's too easy to slip back into old habits. To remember how good things used to be and how much he wanted them to be again. So he lets himself relax, but not fully. Never fully. Not because he understands it only takes a second for his world to be cracked open again. But because Selina is close and he has to keep his senses.

He reaches behind him, feeling along the counter until his hand brushes against the towel and he offers it to her. ]

Thank you, Selina. For coming to get me in the dark.

( It's a dangerous line they're toeing, being like this. A ghost of a time past that's dangerously disarming, comforting in its familiarity. It makes it easy to forget the moments that have fractured and splintered between them - her abandoning him on that rooftop, their fight in the club before she'd arrived here, and everything else that's put them at odds.

She knows it wouldn't take anything at all to get comfortable in the moment, to embrace a closeness and intimacy she's only ever truly found with him. But she knows better. Knows to reel herself in and ignore how easy it would be to lean down, press a kiss to his forehead or temple. Instead, she takes the towel, gently drying his hair.

And she finds herself smiling at the thanks, letting out a quiet little huff of reassurance. )

I'll always come for you, Bruce. In this world or any other.

( She wraps the towel carefully around his head before giving his shoulder a gentle pat to urge him to sit up as she offers a grin down at him. )

Ready to say good bye to those luscious locks of your, pretty boy?

[ Very dangerous. Because even through all of the things that separated them, the heartbreak and fights and disagreements, Selina Kyle is the kindest, most generous person he knows. The only person it was easiest for him to exist around. There's no expectation of a performance. No Batman or Brucie or any other burden he's picked up to weigh him down. He is simply himself and it's easiest to do when she's nearby.

But Bruce had not decided on an easy life. He had the money and time for it. But not the stomach. So the distance between him and Selina is acceptable. It isn't easy, but nothing in life was.

He opened an eye and looked at her, an almost smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ]

Try not to enjoy this too much.

( The way he looks up at her makes her smile stretch wider, and she squeezes his shoulder. Her way of reassuring him that she understands the situation - that for all that she's teasing, trying to keep the mood light, she has every intention of taking this seriously. Bruce doesn't often place vulnerable moments in her hands, and handling them with the care they deserve when she does is paramount. )

I'll miss it.

( Selina laments with a soft sigh, easing the towel away to look down at his hair again. Her fingers comb through the dark hair again before she turns, reaching for a pair of scissors. Her other hand is careful to part some of his hair, looking at the different spots where his hair has fallen out. )

Hold still, Bat.

( It's the only warning she offers before she sets to work with careful, smooth cuts of the scissors through his hair. Her fingers come down every so often, easing around some of his hair, combing out other spots, meticulous in the way she clips and snips. )

[ Bruce hated nothing more than feeling vulnerable. It was an old wound, one that never healed quite right and sometimes it would open up again and let out the little boy who watched his mother's blood soaked pearls scatter across the cement. There was no one he trusted with moments like this.

But of all his allies, Selina came the closest.

He shuts his eyes and listens to the soft snap of the scissors, feels the brush of hair against the back of his head and neck as it falls and waits for it to be over. ]

( With every snip, more of the wet, dark hair falls. Some strands longer than others, some tinted in a way that hints at the gray to come in the coming years. But she handles it all with the same delicate care she might her latest score. Bruce will always be one of the greatest treasures in her life, and seeing him brought to this point, pushed to a point where the darkness had taken something like this sits heavy and uncomfortable in her chest.

She wants better for him, and something like this isn't better.

Nothing she can do about it now, though, besides clean it all up. Which she does. It takes a few, quiet minutes of cutting, deliberate motions and of her fingers and those scissors, before she finally steps them down. She combs her fingers through what little hair is left, catches some more loose strands, snips a bit more.

Then, finally: )

This is the best I can do unless you want to look like Luthor.

( The towel is back, dragged over what's left of his hair to try and towel off the little bit of moisture still left. Then, she pats his shoulder again to urge him to sit up. )

[ That's what Bruce does, isn't it? Give until there's nothing left to take. The darkness had been just another hand, reaching into him and pulling out something vital. And Bruce thinks it's better to happen to him than to anyone he loves. He doesn't want to think about what he'd do if it touched one of them.

He would stand in the way of every danger if he could. He'd be the shield. Let him absorb the impact.

The fallout he could sort out later.

He's perfectly still as she snips, eyes closed so he doesn't see the hair as it falls. But he feels it when it lands on his neck and arms. But he doesn't move. Not until she's done. He sits up and runs a hand over his head. There's still something there. It would grow back. ]

Thank you for sparing me that.

[ He gets up and reaches for a mirror to check his reflection. He's satisfied. ]

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