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[withintenfeet]

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[withintenfeet]

For just a second he tenses beneath that touch, but then his shoulders ease and he lets himself be steered. More than that, he lets gaze linger on their surroundings, trusting Bruce not to let him stumble over or into anything. By the time they reach the bedroom he's...reasonably confident he could find the kitchen again, at least, and also - strangely desolate.

Everything is beautiful, in an ominous sort of way, but it's so lifeless. The biggest house they've got in their sanctuary is maybe a quarter of this, at the very best; all of them have mismatched furniture, peeling paint and scarred walls.

Any one of them is more comfortable than this manor, and his chest aches a little - not for the year he's about to spend here, so much, but the years Bruce already has.

He only nods, at first, before his eyes widen in realisation. "Closet - oh. I'll need something to sleep in."

In his own home he'd be fine sleeping in boxers; in Gotham not so much.

[knightbynight]

Bruce is more than willing to wait out the tension. He would be regardless, but the fact that it's just tension and it doesn't last particularly long is information that is useful, if only on a personal level.

He does, in fact, keep Zerxus from getting too close to anything potentially dangerous, and doesn't rush their walk. It's interesting to watch Zerxus seeing the place. It's long since been nothing more than background to him, nearly invisible and irrelevant. The change in perspective mostly means he notices more. He has very little basis for comparison to anything else, but even simply noticing more leads to speculation and curiosity about what the Manor looked like when it was a family home - to humans - rather than his home.

He blinks exactly once at the remark. "Why has that only now occurred to you, and what standard of coverage do you want?" Don't ask him, he'll leave you wearing a silk robe, bow tie and thong, and think he's funny.

[withintenfeet]

"I - on the road I usually just sleep in this." It's not comfortable, but it's safer. Even stopping in a friendly village - any place can turn on you, or be attacked at the worst moment. There are exceptions - like Sarenrae's other sanctuaries, or Metropolis, or Keystone - but they're rare enough that the usual instincts still carried instead.

Hells, he's slept in the full plate more than once.

"...Sleeves and pants would be appreciated."

[knightbynight]

"Easily done," he agrees, absently. "It's likely that the majority of your clothing will be coming directly from my wardrobe, with additional red. Though anything warm I'll have to arrange through other means." He's not exactly someone who gets cold often, for many reasons, much less one who dresses heavily.

Please read that as 'getting black silk pajamas'. Meanwhile he shoves open the door into the third floor hall. It's darker up here, but in a less ominous way, but more 'not as often used' one. Still everything the Manor is, but with a deeper sort of stillness even than the rest of the place.

[withintenfeet]

His steps slow, both out of caution - one of them can see in the dark and it sure isn't him - and...a sense of wistfulness. He can feel the dust as his hand slides over the archway, taste the mustiness in the air. As his eyes adjust he finds himself peering closer at these forgotten corners, as if he could glimpse the Gotham that once was, the Gotham that Bruce was born in.

It's not long before his steps stop completely, his gaze fixated on - a random wall, apparently.

[knightbynight]

He slows down very little in deference to the dark, though it does eventually at least occur to him that it is an issue and slows some.

He certainly stops when Zerxus does, also peering at that wall.

"Is there an issue?"

Beyond it needing to be painted, due to a series of random lines.

[withintenfeet]

His fingers are trailing down to trace those very lines, tracing the lowest and wobbliest first. He started before he could even hold his tool properly - that tracks, honestly, and his laughter is thick.

Zerxus suspects, when he looks at Bruce, that he won't see any recognition in his eyes. It still feels like a kick in the chest.

The walls that tracked Elias's growth are gone, now; Evandrin's house in Avalir, the cottage in Cathmoira, both of them are ashes in the air. This is worse than that.

"...Not an issue, no."

[knightbynight]

He continues to watch Zerxus, curiosity and confusion and even some compassion while he does. He doesn't understand why some random, not even level, lines would rouse that much emotion. Much less that type of emotion, though he can't even clearly identify what the emotion is.

"It's certainly something though, isn't it?"

He even goes to swipe some of the dust off the wall, and in doing so, however carelessly, uncovers one that's out of place and even shakier than the others (Except the first) and far above the rest.

[withintenfeet]

"Yes. But I don't know if - "

The words trail off as his eyes widen, and he cocks his head slightly as his brow furrows. Then he turns, casting around for something -

Abruptly, there's another huff of laughter as he kneels down. More to himself than Bruce he murmurs, "Oh, you were a terror."

[knightbynight]

He doesn't understand any of this, and that feels terrible.

"You don't know if what? Was a terror?" Is it possible to be curious and then mildly offended in rapid turn? Yes. "What are you seeing here?" Then demanding right on the end of it.

[withintenfeet]

He can't help it; in the midst of this, knelt between a record and a rocking chair, those words sound like a child's. When he looks up his expression is, somehow, both deeply pained and warmly amused.

"You're lucky I'm not asking you for the magic word." Mostly because Asmodeus probably told him it was 'now'. "I'm seeing your childhood, Bruce."

[knightbynight]

The magic word is 'now'. The magic words are 'or I will kill you'. Or light them on fire, or stare at them in a particularly menacing way and kill them. There are options. Lots and lots of options for the specifics of kill and suffer.

He looks around the room, seeing the space and the things still in it with interest that is ... not as emotionally remote as he might like. Also thinking about the Waynes, but only in the most abstract of ways. Remembering they exist.

"It is Wayne property." There shouldn't be surprise that there's anything left of his childhood here. But it is. It very, very much is.

[withintenfeet]

Soft but intent, "It was a home."

This is dangerous territory. He's pushing lines here, prodding wounds, and at the end of the day Bruce is still a devil.

He doesn't actually know if baring his own soul as he does it will help any, but -

"Elias can't remember his father's voice."

[knightbynight]

It is dangerous territory. It is dangerous territory for both of them, both directly and indirectly. There is very little that can be gained from continuing down this path.

Except that Bruce... wants to. Remember mostly, and he's staring at that growth record thinking that they should be at least familiar instead of entirely alien.

"The dead one, I assume." He should remember Zerxus' voice just fine, thanks. It's an idle remark. Mostly he's just sort of... still staring, head tilted.

[withintenfeet]

"Devils really are cunning." Dry but not harsh, as he reaches up to trace that very first line again.

Far more softly, "You were marking your height."

[knightbynight]

"Yes, I'd worked out the purpose." And that breaks his speculative thought process to have him turned back and looking down at Zerxus. "What was cunning about my question?"

[withintenfeet]

"Absolutely nothing." There's that interplay again, humour and heartbreak. "You don't get teased a lot, do you?"

[knightbynight]

He does not understand the heartbreak. He does at least recognize it -- and the humor.

"No. Most people aren't quite that reckless with their safety." He assumes that's the reason, anyway.

[withintenfeet]

"Are you actually feeling violent right now?" Genuinely curious, a little challenging, and not nearly as apprehensive as it should be.

[knightbynight]

"No, but if you tease me wrong that can change very quickly." He's both joking and not. It's probably joking. The delivery doesn't really indicate that, though.

[withintenfeet]

"Understood." What he actually means, judging by the glint in his eyes, is challenge accepted. Which is perhaps not the sentiment you ought to have, on your knees before the Prince of Hell, but we've established this man's survival instinct.

[knightbynight]

He pats Zerxus on the top of the head, then drags his fingers all the way through his hair, from forehead to back of his neck -- roughly. "I still think you're trying to die." You idiot.

[withintenfeet]

He's all set to roll his eyes, and then - well, then his breath catches in his throat and they go dark and bright instead, startled and simmering.

"I think you just don't know what to do with someone who isn't afraid of you." That definitely came out more hoarsely breathless than he intended, and somehow this is what's making him anxious.

[knightbynight]

He slides his hand around from the nape of Zerxus' neck to grip his chin and pull it up, with a smirk. "I know exactly what to do with you." that is an outright, albeit dangerous, purr. "It doesn't convince me you're any less insane."

He doesn't really mind that part.

It also doesn't mean he knows what to do with someone who isn't intimidated by him, though. Just that this? Is easy. And fun. And hot.

[withintenfeet]

His heart is pounding, adrenaline laced with fear but not dominated by it. No, he still doesn't look afraid, just stunned. His mouth has gone dry.

This shouldn't - he shouldn't be overwhelm this easily but he hasn't felt like this since -

"Do you." Raggedly defiant, except for how he hasn't resisted or in fact moved in any way. His hands feel leaden against the floorboards.