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[theknightshift]

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[catscratching]

( 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. )

[theknightshift]

[ 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. ]