The lines were secure. Oracle ran regular sweeps on every avenue Bruce used for communication and as a precaution he often followed up her sweep with one of his own. There wasn't a safer number to call in Gotham.
Fifteen minutes is plenty enough time to get ready for a guest. He puts away his work, at least for the evening and puts the more important things under a more secure lock and key.
When Steve arrives, Lucius Fox is the one waiting for him outside. He directs him to the underground garage, where Bruce's personal elevator is. It'll take him directly to the top floor.
Maybe Steve should be more wary about all this than he is, between the Accords and his history with Hydra.
He's not.
He could make a narrative to make this a Batman Level elaborate and genius trap - but it doesn't fit the guy who has dedicated his life to a cause, and poured his literal blood into it.
He's pretty quiet when he greets Fox and the long ride up to the top floor. He's tense, but in a (really) subtle tired and starting to fray ' sort of way, rather than anything approaching 'fight ready'.
Jeans, t-shirt, jacket and sneakers fit that pretty well too. Nothing like a uniform or armed when he steps out of the elevator, immediately looking for Bruce. Hoping this isn't going to be a 'leave him longer' or game of hide and seek. There are spaces he'll move around like a bull in a china shop. Anywhere controlled by Bruce? Absolutely not without goddamn good cause, and he'd still rather not.
Bruce didn't often invite people into his personal space. He'd always preferred meeting others on neutral ground. Or in their space instead. It made assessing danger and picking out vulnerabilities easier. Everyone felt at ease when they thought they were in a safe place. Bringing someone here, even someone like Steve, put him in a reverse position. And more than anything, Bruce did not like feeling vulnerable. But he trusted Steve, at least more than the average person who might find their way into his office.
Steve isn't made to wait as Bruce is there when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. "Glad you found the place," he says, as if Wayne Tower isn't a monster on Gotham's skyline. You could see it from Arkham Island.
He's not nearly as casual as Steve, but not as put together as he is when he needs to be Bruce Wayne. Black slacks and a white button down that's loose at the collar. He slides his hands into his pockets and nods toward the ornate double doors across the hall. "There's a mini bar in there. Come in and tell me what's got you troubled enough to drink."
There aren't many places that he could meet Bruce, under these conditions, and be as relatively relaxed as he stays. It's a space that's very well suited to Bruce, without being too many layers of masks (literal and otherwise).
He quirks a faint smile and shakes his head. "I'll drink it if you give it to me, but it's a waste of what I'm sure's a really good drink." He just metabolizes it out before it accomplishes anything. "I just needed an excuse I wouldn't mind being overheard. Wouldn't mind sitting down while I explain myself, though."
"Sit anywhere you like," he says, once they are well and truly alone.
The wall of liquor is one of the more attractive parts of the office space. The wall mirrored and well lit to draw in the eye to various wines and spirits Bruce has spent a long time collecting. It suits his purposes: entertaining people he's trying to do business with, or furthering the idea that he really had nothing better to do than party his days away while other people did the hard work of keeping Wayne Enterprises afloat. Plush red stools neatly lined the bar. Tucked away, in the corner of the room were two overstuffed chairs, offering a better sense of privacy than the stools did.
"If you're hungry, I can have something brought up for you."
There's no question in Steve's mind about where he's sitting. He gravitates toward the armchairs, immediately.
There's something about the space, even the bar, that for all that it is a display of wealth and image, and one that is at least somewhat (he assumes) cultivated, that has an elegance about it that suits Bruce.
He sits, and leans forward enough to have his forearms braced on his thighs. "I need to eat, but let me get this out so you can decide whether you want me around long enough to feed me."
Asking for help still feels... wrong, on some level. Food? That offer doesn't. It feels fundamentally reflective of who he thinks Bruce is as a person. "The second the Accords went live they arrested everyone who didn't sign that they could find, including a guy with kids who was prepared to walk away. I can't let that stand. I won't involve you in that, but I need time to gather enough information to move on."
If it was what he needed, feeding Steve is never in any doubt. He trusted Steve enough to allow him into his inner circle, enough that Steve knew his secret. For Bruce, that's more than enough to consider Steve one of his own. There isn't much that would change that. Unless, Steve's done something especially egregious. But then, they would be having an entirely different conversation.
He follows Steve to the corner of his office but doesn't sit, opting instead to lean back against the bookshelf. It seems a casual gesture, but it was always easier to be prepared when he's standing. Besides, he never really stays sitting for long.
As he listens, there's a...shift in him. It's work to always be Gotham's Golden Boy. It's down to an art by now, but that doesn't mean it's not work. It's easy to turn it off though, like the flip of a switch. He'd known about the Accords passing, but hadn't looked into it any further.
"What do you need from me?" Asked in a way, not to suggest a reluctance to help, but to make sure Steve knew whatever he needed, Bruce was willing to provide.
Steve wouldn't be able to explain what that shift looks like from the outside - too subtle, too fast - but it's something he at least recognizes all the same. Something around the eyes, maybe, or just Bruce feelings more present to him.
Either way, he actively breathes easier and is more comfortable for it. He trusts Bruce, period. How to interact with Gotham's 'Prince', even knowing what's behind that mask and trusting Bruce enough to be here - and trusting Bruce trusts him enough to let him be? Not well enough not to be awkward as hell.
"I need information about the prison they're being held in - as much of it as I can get. Security systems, guard schedules and changes, the transportation system being used for supplies and staff. Ideally who the staff is. Bare minimum I need to know what the outer layer of security looks like." Which is obviously also the bare minimum of what he needs. "Time to turn that information into a plan for getting them out, and to be able to move and move them once they are."
He was... not as prepared as he should be. Not with Peggy's funeral at the same time, but mostly not for 'just stopping' to be something they wouldn't let slide for even the non-enhanced guys like Clint and Sam. ...or Batman, technically, though for all his worry and really trusting Bruce, he doesn't see that happening. Not with the secret identity, not with all the security in place around it. If that was going to break into an arrest, it already would have.
He rubs his eyes between his thumb and forefinger. "And I really need food." That bit? Is embarrassed. Still Steve warm and blunt, but embarrassed.
Bruce doesn't answer to that. Not at first. Steve's needs have set his mind off in several directions at once, sorting out what he could get his hands on immediately and what would require a bit of work. The prison, he figures, would have to be something that could hold enhanced humans but also be prepared to hold Superman if they ever got their hands on him, doubtful however that might be.
At his computer he inputs a few queries but turn up no results, at least none near Gotham. He would have to send out feelers for anything beyond that.
"Give me a little time, Steve," he says, "I'll get you what you need."
With his kind of resources, the shadow he casts can be as long or as short as he needs it. But that is some nebulous future thing that Bruce doesn't have a way of predicting the outcome of just yet. There's still right now to take care of.
"There's a chef here. He'll cook whatever you like." He gets up from his desk and crosses the space again to where Steve is. "And if you need a place to sleep, come with me to the manor. I'll let Alfred know to prepare one of the guest rooms."
"We've got time." He stands back up when Bruce starts walking back toward him and takes a few steps toward him. "I need to get them out, but they're not likely to be in any kind of immediate physical danger."
He drops one shoulder against the bookcase, and studies Bruce for a moment. Quiet, steady, warm and somehow just a little amused. "I don't have a problem with going home with you." Sleep he can go longer without, but he'd rather not. The Manor's one of the safest places on earth, and he likes Alfred almost as much as he likes Bruce. "but when was the last time you ate - or slept for that matter?"
Already, Bruce is putting his long reach to work. Oracle is the best bet when it came to the technical things - schematics, guard roster and rotation. But the small people, with eyes and ears out everywhere and who owed Batman a favor would get them the bits that might seem inconsequential but would prove valuable in the long run. It would just take time. Time, Steve assures him they have. Bruce never liked going into a situation blind, but if that changed, he's prepared for that too.
He smiles wryly at Steve's question. Eating, he did far more of than sleeping. But still the answer to Steve's question would be the same - a while. "I've been busy," he says. He isn't sure how much Steve's heard about the Arkham City debacle, but Bruce gives him a basic summary regardless, while leaving out the bits too personal to recount (namely that he was infected with Joker's blood and that infection might not be cured).
"Joker's dead. But nothing is ever over in this city. It's quiet for now, but for how long? I'm going to be ready when it gets here."
"Yeah, you will be. And you'll be a lot more ready if you've had food and at least a nap, recently." There's some gentle humor there, but there's also something a little stubborn in it. Steve's starting to hit walls all over the place, and he's more than familiar with stubbornly pushing himself--
but he's got being a successful laboratory experiment assist.
Bruce? He can't be clear on timing of those things, or even current state. That man's ability to function and at least seem fine through almost anything is a complication (for Steve's desire to take care of him). Joker being dead though? That is a damn big clue that 'busy' is an understatement and it's been a long while.
"So." After looking at Bruce with a slightly tilted head for probably long enough to be uncomfortable. "Back to the Manor, food for both of us and then we can discuss at least a nap?" Take your breaks where they come Bruce. Or fight him about it first.
Steve's another voice to add to the chorus. He's not the only one to ask after Bruce's brutal pace. It's part of the reason why he's been shutting out Tim and Dick and Barabara when he doesn't need her intel. He appreciates that they care, that they want to see him be okay in the wake of everything. But it slows him down and he can't afford to be slow about anything. People die when he's too slow. People he cares about.
He knows its hypocrisy to insist on Steve resting so he can be ready to save his people. He could go to the manor for the night and finish his work in the Cave. Lucius already had the designs Bruce was after, so it wasn't like there was much to keep him here. Really, he's avoiding the manor because he is avoiding Tim. It's something he can set aside for one night, though. Maybe he'll even have a nap when he's satisfied with his progress. "Car's in the garage. I'll drive." He would let Alfred know he's coming with a guest on the way.
And if a single, solitary member of Steve's team suggested that he need a meal and some sleep, Steve would refuse. Because they're his team. Because they're his people. Because they're his responsibility.
Bruce? Isn't. He respects Bruce, likes Bruce, trusts Bruce and cares about Bruce -- but Bruce isn't his responsibility.
Not that that stops him from using some obvious leverage against him, or from wanting to see Bruce take care of himself. It's just from a position of more even footing.
"Convenient, because I don't have a car." There's a slight smile to go with that, but he's pretty content and ready to fall in with Bruce and follow him to the garage. Keep his mouth shut while Bruce is on the phone or driving.
He doesn't know what's going on, is missing big swaths of information that would worry him more, but he has enough to worry some, anyway. Do what he can. To pay attention to the individual in front of him. And to hope Tim doesn't become an invasive presence for everyone's sake.
Bruce takes care of himself by taking care of others, by making sure they had what they needed when they needed it. He's trained himself to thrive on less than an average person, because he always wants to be ready to go when it's necessary.
Doesn't mean he doesn't crash out sometimes. He very much does, because he is still just an ordinary man and there were moments where his body wouldn't give him any other choice. There are hardly ever signs. Just moments where he vanishes when he needs to recoup.
He matches Steve's slight smile then leads the way to the garage beneath the building. Tucked away in the corner is a small fleet of luxury vehicles, parked neatly in the spaces there. Using the fob to unlock one, he hops into the driver's seat and nods for Steve to join him in the passenger.
On the way, he dials up Alfred and arranges a place for Steve to sleep as well as a meal. "Make sure there's enough for two," Bruce adds, "He insists."
Tim is thankfully out with Barbara tonight so he wouldn't be a problem at least for a few hours. Gave him to time to help Steve get settled and he could get back to work himself.
Steve climbs into the passenger seat and buckles his seat belt, like he's not - well, he's not invulnerable, actually, but he's pretty sturdy and doesn't have a lot of self-preservation, much less fear.
He leans back, and closes his eyes while Bruce makes the call to Alfred and stays that way until he's off the phone.
"That man should be nominated for sainthood." For many reasons. Like still being even passingly sane while managing (on any level at all) Bruce Goddamn Wayne.
"Don't tell him that. I'll never hear the end of it." But he didn't disagree. None of this worked without Alfred. Not Bruce Wayne and especially not Batman. Alfred is as vital as anyone who's out in the field with Bruce. He'd never deny that.
The drive to the manor is for the most part uneventful. He puts the car away in the garage and they're greeted by Alfred who offers Steve a warm welcome. Bruce ducks inside to avoid the welcome he was sure to receive. It'd been nearly a week since he'd last set foot in the manor. Their dinner was laid out in the dining room at one end of the impossibly long table. "Thank you, Alfred. What would I do without you?"
Starve most likely, Sir. He's not wrong about that.
Steve returns Alfred's greeting with real warmth, albeit more subdued than usual if only slightly. The kind of slightly more that would be noticeable only by Batman and Alfred. He really is starting to flag. Eating will help and deciding he's somewhere safe will help, but-
That may not work out in Bruce's favor because help or not? Yeah. He's likely to direct at least some more of his own 'take care of your people' onto Bruce. Especially since Bruce is doing him a favor.
Wayne Manor, as always, feels... strange to him, in some indefinable way. Something that suits both men, but doesn't. Something that's about wealth or elegance or just size and too much space and too many memories too close to the surface, even if those aren't his. Points of commonality and contrast with Stark Tower.
There's no discomfort or unease in heading into the dining room and to the table at least, or in sitting down at it. Once he's picked up his fork, though, he just looks at Bruce and waits. No muss, no fuss, no drama, but waits on Bruce to remember he's also eating.
In a sense, Wayne Manor is a strange place. There were lives being lived here, but the vastness of the house gave it a haunting sort of quality. So did the giant portraits of his parents Bruce kept on the walls. A reminder that, once upon a time, things could have ended very differently for the Waynes. And maybe they would not have taken all of the warmth with them when they died.
Food was the last thing on Bruce's mind. He needed to eat and he knows that, but there was still so much left to do before the night shift started. He sits when Steve sits but he isn't the first of them to reach for his fork. And when he realizes Steve is waiting for him he finally picks it up and starts to cut into the protein. It's easiest to eat and often the most necessary to maintain muscle mass. He often just preferred to have in a way that was faster and more convenient than this.
It was a good thing he did not mind the company.
It's funny how Steve's question nearly startles him. There isn't a day he doesn't think about the Joker. The clown often came unbidden, often alongside Jason's gruesome last moments. And for Bruce he can't help but run their final confrontation through his brain to see what he could have possibly done differently to save him. But it always ends the same. He has the cure in hand and Joker stabs him.
"A year," he says. "While I was in Arkham City." Doesn't feel like it's been that long. Sometimes, it feels like it just happened.
Steve's body composition is not exactly fixed, but it's not far off that, either. The serum ensures that his muscle mass is prioritized, anyway. The serum also means that even his resting metabolic rate is insanely high. Activity level or healing just crank it (and his caloric needs) higher. He leans into protein bars, meal replacement shakes, and energy gels out of necessity and is glad they're options in this particular time period.
He'd still rather eat actual food when he can get away with it, especially since he can see the difficulty of doing t hat in the future coming from here.
All that does mean that when Bruce starts eating, Steve pivots his plate around and starts with the carb heavy portion of the meal. "Are people," who aren't Bruce, "approaching that as if it's some kind of win with you?"
Steve knows better. He might also hit someone if they are.
Nobody in his inner circle is foolish enough to think Joker being dead meant an ending. Gotham is a powder keg. They were just waiting to see who was going to be the one to ignite it. It's hard to see when the crime rate is down and the other rogues have all but made themselves scarce. But it's not in Gotham's nature to stay still for long. Just like it's not in Bruce's. He shakes his head. "No." Not if they wanted to stay close. Or as close as Bruce was willing to let them. "There are still things happening, they're just smaller in scale."
Still, it isn't all doom and gloom. "We're rebuilding. Fixing what Strange tried to destroy."
Bruce Wayne has surfaced in the chaotic aftermath to help in the rebuilding efforts. It's a slow process, since most outside investors aren't interested in revitalization. Their money is made when Gotham is off tilt. But Bruce is working his magic and turning some of those No's into a yes. Maybe it doesn't help his case that something is brewing. But it does give ordinary people hope and that was also part of the goal of Batman.
There's some relief for Steve in that, though he mostly shows that by looking up between bites of food and a slight nod of acknowledgement.
"I'd be more surprised if things weren't still happening. On person, no matter how powerful, is ever the whole of the problem. How they got where they were and where they found supporters, and the opportunities they saw are always there whether they are or not."
That may not be the most coherent statement ever, and it's certainly too blunt, lacking... eloquence, but he does see bigger pictures just fine. Not with the kind of intelligence Bruce has, but his own.
"I don't think a single person on my side of things knows I even know who Bruce Wayne is, including headlines about him, but if we've got information by then or not I'm going to get out of your hair and away from you within a couple of days. Is Tim still here?"
Steve is right. It's a power vacuum waiting to be filled and Bruce could not take his eye off it. Not even for a single night. He would not be caught off guard by it. He finishes off his protein, spins the plate to take a bite or two of the carbs, but he rarely eats carbs. Not in the bulk Alfred liked to pile on the plate. The rest, he'd save for another time. Maybe.
"The people on your side don't give you enough credit," Bruce says, leaning back into his chair. He studies Steve for a moment, imagines him brought into the fold. He already knew the secret. It was all a matter of training then. But Bruce also couldn't see Steve walking away from the Avengers. Not to come here and take orders from Bruce. He's a leader himself. There'd be a clash eventually.
"But you don't have to be in a hurry, Steve. Stay as long as you need."
The question about Tim goes unanswered for a moment. "For the most part. I've got him working on something else so he's been away."
Edited (I straight up forgot to answer the question about Tim lol) 2024-11-19 16:48 (UTC)
They would clash eventually. Steve doesn't have a secret identity or any anonymity. He probably couldn't maintain one much longer than he could manage following orders instead of calling the shots himself.
That doesn't mean he couldn't work with or for Bruce in a given scenario, the same way it doesn't mean he's... using Bruce and Bruce's resources to try to get a handle on the absolute shit show his life has turned into.
And God he has got to find a way to get past how hurt and pissed off he is at Tony.
"Sometimes. Most of them don't quite get the serum. I'm okay with it." Most of the time. Sometimes, not. Even when not, not enough to bother to fight the assumptions.
He continues to eat and clears his plate while he waits on the answer about Tim, puts his fork and knife down then and looks back to study Bruce. "I was prepared for shit to get bad. I wasn't ready for them to sweep up a guy with kids and a military vet who are in no way enhanced. I don't know how the hell I'm going to manage this long term, but I've got to get it figured out. I'll stay until I do or I get so much as a hint I'm about to bring trouble down on you or Tim."
Bruce listens to Steve with a detached sort of awareness. As he'd said before, he didn't disagree with the premise of the Accords. Ordinary people needed a contingency, an assurance that people who were out saving the day weren't going to one day turn on them with impunity. Bruce had contingencies for every enhanced human he's ever come across - including Steve. He just thought the government didn't have enough insight to understand. To them it was about control, not safety and that is where the disconnect is for Bruce. (nevermind the hypocrisy there).
"You'll get them out." Distantly, a clock chimes and Bruce gets up. It's time to go to work. "And if you can't, I'll help you." Whether as Batman or Bruce Wayne, either way the hand would be extended.
He nods for Steve to follow. If he's never seen the Cave, now was the time. He opens an entrance and steps into the elevator that appears. "As far as I can tell, it isn't on the mainland. And if the Accords aren't just targeting your friends, then they're going to need a facility that can hold Superman. There's not a prison within a thousand miles that can do that." Which is the biggest clue. "So I've got Oracle tracking a few leads. If anyone can find your friends, it's her."
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Fifteen minutes is plenty enough time to get ready for a guest. He puts away his work, at least for the evening and puts the more important things under a more secure lock and key.
When Steve arrives, Lucius Fox is the one waiting for him outside. He directs him to the underground garage, where Bruce's personal elevator is. It'll take him directly to the top floor.
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He's not.
He could make a narrative to make this a Batman Level elaborate and genius trap - but it doesn't fit the guy who has dedicated his life to a cause, and poured his literal blood into it.
He's pretty quiet when he greets Fox and the long ride up to the top floor. He's tense, but in a (really) subtle tired and starting to fray ' sort of way, rather than anything approaching 'fight ready'.
Jeans, t-shirt, jacket and sneakers fit that pretty well too. Nothing like a uniform or armed when he steps out of the elevator, immediately looking for Bruce. Hoping this isn't going to be a 'leave him longer' or game of hide and seek. There are spaces he'll move around like a bull in a china shop. Anywhere controlled by Bruce? Absolutely not without goddamn good cause, and he'd still rather not.
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Steve isn't made to wait as Bruce is there when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. "Glad you found the place," he says, as if Wayne Tower isn't a monster on Gotham's skyline. You could see it from Arkham Island.
He's not nearly as casual as Steve, but not as put together as he is when he needs to be Bruce Wayne. Black slacks and a white button down that's loose at the collar. He slides his hands into his pockets and nods toward the ornate double doors across the hall. "There's a mini bar in there. Come in and tell me what's got you troubled enough to drink."
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He quirks a faint smile and shakes his head. "I'll drink it if you give it to me, but it's a waste of what I'm sure's a really good drink." He just metabolizes it out before it accomplishes anything. "I just needed an excuse I wouldn't mind being overheard. Wouldn't mind sitting down while I explain myself, though."
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The wall of liquor is one of the more attractive parts of the office space. The wall mirrored and well lit to draw in the eye to various wines and spirits Bruce has spent a long time collecting. It suits his purposes: entertaining people he's trying to do business with, or furthering the idea that he really had nothing better to do than party his days away while other people did the hard work of keeping Wayne Enterprises afloat. Plush red stools neatly lined the bar. Tucked away, in the corner of the room were two overstuffed chairs, offering a better sense of privacy than the stools did.
"If you're hungry, I can have something brought up for you."
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There's something about the space, even the bar, that for all that it is a display of wealth and image, and one that is at least somewhat (he assumes) cultivated, that has an elegance about it that suits Bruce.
He sits, and leans forward enough to have his forearms braced on his thighs. "I need to eat, but let me get this out so you can decide whether you want me around long enough to feed me."
Asking for help still feels... wrong, on some level. Food? That offer doesn't. It feels fundamentally reflective of who he thinks Bruce is as a person. "The second the Accords went live they arrested everyone who didn't sign that they could find, including a guy with kids who was prepared to walk away. I can't let that stand. I won't involve you in that, but I need time to gather enough information to move on."
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He follows Steve to the corner of his office but doesn't sit, opting instead to lean back against the bookshelf. It seems a casual gesture, but it was always easier to be prepared when he's standing. Besides, he never really stays sitting for long.
As he listens, there's a...shift in him. It's work to always be Gotham's Golden Boy. It's down to an art by now, but that doesn't mean it's not work. It's easy to turn it off though, like the flip of a switch. He'd known about the Accords passing, but hadn't looked into it any further.
"What do you need from me?" Asked in a way, not to suggest a reluctance to help, but to make sure Steve knew whatever he needed, Bruce was willing to provide.
no subject
Either way, he actively breathes easier and is more comfortable for it. He trusts Bruce, period. How to interact with Gotham's 'Prince', even knowing what's behind that mask and trusting Bruce enough to be here - and trusting Bruce trusts him enough to let him be? Not well enough not to be awkward as hell.
"I need information about the prison they're being held in - as much of it as I can get. Security systems, guard schedules and changes, the transportation system being used for supplies and staff. Ideally who the staff is. Bare minimum I need to know what the outer layer of security looks like." Which is obviously also the bare minimum of what he needs. "Time to turn that information into a plan for getting them out, and to be able to move and move them once they are."
He was... not as prepared as he should be. Not with Peggy's funeral at the same time, but mostly not for 'just stopping' to be something they wouldn't let slide for even the non-enhanced guys like Clint and Sam. ...or Batman, technically, though for all his worry and really trusting Bruce, he doesn't see that happening. Not with the secret identity, not with all the security in place around it. If that was going to break into an arrest, it already would have.
He rubs his eyes between his thumb and forefinger. "And I really need food." That bit? Is embarrassed. Still Steve warm and blunt, but embarrassed.
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At his computer he inputs a few queries but turn up no results, at least none near Gotham. He would have to send out feelers for anything beyond that.
"Give me a little time, Steve," he says, "I'll get you what you need."
With his kind of resources, the shadow he casts can be as long or as short as he needs it. But that is some nebulous future thing that Bruce doesn't have a way of predicting the outcome of just yet. There's still right now to take care of.
"There's a chef here. He'll cook whatever you like." He gets up from his desk and crosses the space again to where Steve is. "And if you need a place to sleep, come with me to the manor. I'll let Alfred know to prepare one of the guest rooms."
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He drops one shoulder against the bookcase, and studies Bruce for a moment. Quiet, steady, warm and somehow just a little amused. "I don't have a problem with going home with you." Sleep he can go longer without, but he'd rather not. The Manor's one of the safest places on earth, and he likes Alfred almost as much as he likes Bruce. "but when was the last time you ate - or slept for that matter?"
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He smiles wryly at Steve's question. Eating, he did far more of than sleeping. But still the answer to Steve's question would be the same - a while. "I've been busy," he says. He isn't sure how much Steve's heard about the Arkham City debacle, but Bruce gives him a basic summary regardless, while leaving out the bits too personal to recount (namely that he was infected with Joker's blood and that infection might not be cured).
"Joker's dead. But nothing is ever over in this city. It's quiet for now, but for how long? I'm going to be ready when it gets here."
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but he's got being a successful laboratory experiment assist.
Bruce? He can't be clear on timing of those things, or even current state. That man's ability to function and at least seem fine through almost anything is a complication (for Steve's desire to take care of him). Joker being dead though? That is a damn big clue that 'busy' is an understatement and it's been a long while.
"So." After looking at Bruce with a slightly tilted head for probably long enough to be uncomfortable. "Back to the Manor, food for both of us and then we can discuss at least a nap?" Take your breaks where they come Bruce. Or fight him about it first.
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He knows its hypocrisy to insist on Steve resting so he can be ready to save his people. He could go to the manor for the night and finish his work in the Cave. Lucius already had the designs Bruce was after, so it wasn't like there was much to keep him here. Really, he's avoiding the manor because he is avoiding Tim. It's something he can set aside for one night, though. Maybe he'll even have a nap when he's satisfied with his progress. "Car's in the garage. I'll drive." He would let Alfred know he's coming with a guest on the way.
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Bruce? Isn't. He respects Bruce, likes Bruce, trusts Bruce and cares about Bruce -- but Bruce isn't his responsibility.
Not that that stops him from using some obvious leverage against him, or from wanting to see Bruce take care of himself. It's just from a position of more even footing.
"Convenient, because I don't have a car." There's a slight smile to go with that, but he's pretty content and ready to fall in with Bruce and follow him to the garage. Keep his mouth shut while Bruce is on the phone or driving.
He doesn't know what's going on, is missing big swaths of information that would worry him more, but he has enough to worry some, anyway. Do what he can. To pay attention to the individual in front of him. And to hope Tim doesn't become an invasive presence for everyone's sake.
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Doesn't mean he doesn't crash out sometimes. He very much does, because he is still just an ordinary man and there were moments where his body wouldn't give him any other choice. There are hardly ever signs. Just moments where he vanishes when he needs to recoup.
He matches Steve's slight smile then leads the way to the garage beneath the building. Tucked away in the corner is a small fleet of luxury vehicles, parked neatly in the spaces there. Using the fob to unlock one, he hops into the driver's seat and nods for Steve to join him in the passenger.
On the way, he dials up Alfred and arranges a place for Steve to sleep as well as a meal. "Make sure there's enough for two," Bruce adds, "He insists."
Tim is thankfully out with Barbara tonight so he wouldn't be a problem at least for a few hours. Gave him to time to help Steve get settled and he could get back to work himself.
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He leans back, and closes his eyes while Bruce makes the call to Alfred and stays that way until he's off the phone.
"That man should be nominated for sainthood." For many reasons. Like still being even passingly sane while managing (on any level at all) Bruce Goddamn Wayne.
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The drive to the manor is for the most part uneventful. He puts the car away in the garage and they're greeted by Alfred who offers Steve a warm welcome. Bruce ducks inside to avoid the welcome he was sure to receive. It'd been nearly a week since he'd last set foot in the manor. Their dinner was laid out in the dining room at one end of the impossibly long table. "Thank you, Alfred. What would I do without you?"
Starve most likely, Sir. He's not wrong about that.
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That may not work out in Bruce's favor because help or not? Yeah. He's likely to direct at least some more of his own 'take care of your people' onto Bruce. Especially since Bruce is doing him a favor.
Wayne Manor, as always, feels... strange to him, in some indefinable way. Something that suits both men, but doesn't. Something that's about wealth or elegance or just size and too much space and too many memories too close to the surface, even if those aren't his. Points of commonality and contrast with Stark Tower.
There's no discomfort or unease in heading into the dining room and to the table at least, or in sitting down at it. Once he's picked up his fork, though, he just looks at Bruce and waits. No muss, no fuss, no drama, but waits on Bruce to remember he's also eating.
"How long has Joker been dead?"
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Food was the last thing on Bruce's mind. He needed to eat and he knows that, but there was still so much left to do before the night shift started. He sits when Steve sits but he isn't the first of them to reach for his fork. And when he realizes Steve is waiting for him he finally picks it up and starts to cut into the protein. It's easiest to eat and often the most necessary to maintain muscle mass. He often just preferred to have in a way that was faster and more convenient than this.
It was a good thing he did not mind the company.
It's funny how Steve's question nearly startles him. There isn't a day he doesn't think about the Joker. The clown often came unbidden, often alongside Jason's gruesome last moments. And for Bruce he can't help but run their final confrontation through his brain to see what he could have possibly done differently to save him. But it always ends the same. He has the cure in hand and Joker stabs him.
"A year," he says. "While I was in Arkham City." Doesn't feel like it's been that long. Sometimes, it feels like it just happened.
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He'd still rather eat actual food when he can get away with it, especially since he can see the difficulty of doing t hat in the future coming from here.
All that does mean that when Bruce starts eating, Steve pivots his plate around and starts with the carb heavy portion of the meal. "Are people," who aren't Bruce, "approaching that as if it's some kind of win with you?"
Steve knows better. He might also hit someone if they are.
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Still, it isn't all doom and gloom. "We're rebuilding. Fixing what Strange tried to destroy."
Bruce Wayne has surfaced in the chaotic aftermath to help in the rebuilding efforts. It's a slow process, since most outside investors aren't interested in revitalization. Their money is made when Gotham is off tilt. But Bruce is working his magic and turning some of those No's into a yes. Maybe it doesn't help his case that something is brewing. But it does give ordinary people hope and that was also part of the goal of Batman.
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"I'd be more surprised if things weren't still happening. On person, no matter how powerful, is ever the whole of the problem. How they got where they were and where they found supporters, and the opportunities they saw are always there whether they are or not."
That may not be the most coherent statement ever, and it's certainly too blunt, lacking... eloquence, but he does see bigger pictures just fine. Not with the kind of intelligence Bruce has, but his own.
"I don't think a single person on my side of things knows I even know who Bruce Wayne is, including headlines about him, but if we've got information by then or not I'm going to get out of your hair and away from you within a couple of days. Is Tim still here?"
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"The people on your side don't give you enough credit," Bruce says, leaning back into his chair. He studies Steve for a moment, imagines him brought into the fold. He already knew the secret. It was all a matter of training then. But Bruce also couldn't see Steve walking away from the Avengers. Not to come here and take orders from Bruce. He's a leader himself. There'd be a clash eventually.
"But you don't have to be in a hurry, Steve. Stay as long as you need."
The question about Tim goes unanswered for a moment. "For the most part. I've got him working on something else so he's been away."
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That doesn't mean he couldn't work with or for Bruce in a given scenario, the same way it doesn't mean he's... using Bruce and Bruce's resources to try to get a handle on the absolute shit show his life has turned into.
And God he has got to find a way to get past how hurt and pissed off he is at Tony.
"Sometimes. Most of them don't quite get the serum. I'm okay with it." Most of the time. Sometimes, not. Even when not, not enough to bother to fight the assumptions.
He continues to eat and clears his plate while he waits on the answer about Tim, puts his fork and knife down then and looks back to study Bruce. "I was prepared for shit to get bad. I wasn't ready for them to sweep up a guy with kids and a military vet who are in no way enhanced. I don't know how the hell I'm going to manage this long term, but I've got to get it figured out. I'll stay until I do or I get so much as a hint I'm about to bring trouble down on you or Tim."
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"You'll get them out." Distantly, a clock chimes and Bruce gets up. It's time to go to work. "And if you can't, I'll help you." Whether as Batman or Bruce Wayne, either way the hand would be extended.
He nods for Steve to follow. If he's never seen the Cave, now was the time. He opens an entrance and steps into the elevator that appears. "As far as I can tell, it isn't on the mainland. And if the Accords aren't just targeting your friends, then they're going to need a facility that can hold Superman. There's not a prison within a thousand miles that can do that." Which is the biggest clue. "So I've got Oracle tracking a few leads. If anyone can find your friends, it's her."
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