It's a lot, all at once; the reflexive fight-or-flight that has his hands tightening hard enough to make the wood creak, the rush of cool air against his skin, the blazing sting of those scratches.
Judging by the ragged gasp and wide eyes, Bruce has very effectively shaken his composure. That doesn't stop a hoarse, throaty laugh as he says, "Show-off."
He smirks, lifts an eyebrow and is clearly about to reply--
but is cut off by a very large, very black, very fluffy cat jumping up onto the bed, slinking over and onto Zerxus' chest, and then sitting there - back to Bruce, tail lashing- and staring down into his face from very close.
With very... orange, and unnaturally illuminated eyes.
The cat has more teeth and claws than Bruce. It also has fewer morals, fewer inhibitions, and less restraint.
Bruce... growls in irritation at very literally finding the cat between them. The cat seemingly does not care, in the least.
"He's obnoxious, but he doesn't talk." Just being clear while... petting the cat absently, rather than immediately following through with his intent to scruff and remove it.
The cat, on it's part, lowers itself down into a loaf, and reaches out one paw and pats Zerxus' cheek. Claws retracted. Still threatening, somehow, given the aggressive eye contact.
"...at least that I've heard." All things were possible when the Lord of hell was your father , and no evidence was concrete evidence.
He keeps his hands right where they are for a few pointed seconds; hopefully, that will distract from the endeared little smile.
"Nice to meet you, Alfred." Finally, he pulls his hands back, and reaches one over to - well, get either licked or nipped at, depending on where he stands with this cat.
Bruce's hand stays on the cat, in clear mistrust. He's also freshly annoyed to have a very sexy man beside him and his cat cock blocking him.
A cat that turns and gives Bruce a long, unblinking stare before turning back to Zerxus hand and giving it a tiny, very gentle bite before beginning to lick in a similarly dainty way ... and purr.
"I honestly can't tell if this is devilish or just feline." He doesn't seem to mind either way, considering the blatantly amused grin. Apparently watching Alfred troll Bruce is worth the risk to his extremities.
Bruce's eyes glow red, he opens his mouth wide and... hisses at Zerxus.
Which gets a pause and stare from the cat, but no further action. Because Bruce follows that with an eye roll and actively cuddling in against his pet mortal and petting his devilsh cat.
"You should either go back to sleep and dream more, or tell me more about your previous dreams and the consequences."
Bruce's pet mortal smirks downright smugly at him. This will probably come back to bite him later, but he's at peace with it.
"I should go back to sleep." He knows, distantly, that he's still drained; that the responsible thing to do would be closing his eyes, and relaxing as much as he can.
But he's got a purring cat and a cuddly devil and that's so much better than the nightmares, prophetic or not.
"They usually start out - not normally. But there are things, places, people I recognise. Things it makes sense to dream about. Then it all...twists, somehow."
It's more likely to bite him on the ass if he tries it with Asmodeus, and Bruce is not exactly hopeful that is as unlikely as it should be.
Not that Bruce wouldn't bite him for it, in another circumstance. Bruce is a defensively bitey fuck, often with apparently for no cause.
For now, he's naked, warm and has human (and feline) contact and a decided lack of voices in his head. It's downright relaxing, and he is fully prepared to enjoy it for at least a little bit.
"And you never remember the details long after waking? That makes it hard to verify...accuracy or ...method of encryption."
"Rarely. Some things stick, but - too many empty spaces to make a pattern."
Still. Maybe the things that resonated the most did so for a reason, beyond minds having their own strange whims. He closes his eyes, and sinks into the steady warmth around him. It feels - safer, in this moment, to reach deeper again.
"I remember - years ago, I think before the war even started - there was a tree. With petals that faded to nothing right before they reached the ground, and branches that reached into the stars..."
He makes a thoughtful noise and goes from the word 'encryption' to Barbara, even while considering the imagery presented. "Barbara should have been who you found." Yeah, he needs to get his guard back up and be less sentimental, immediately.
He bites Zerxus shoulder sharply. "Keep petting." Him. Not the cat. The cat can make its own demands.
(And keep petting, because that is glorious and has Bruce's eyes half closed, in a decidedly like a cat like way. ...Which also may or may not be why Alfred 'casually' stretches and winds up making physical contact with him.)
With a slight tug, before he goes back to stroking, "Because you bit me right after saying her name."
Alfred isn't slick either, but he's not about to call that out.
"Patia was...the sort of wizard most of them pretend to be. She wielded knowledge like a weapon, kept records of everything, never let anyone know what she was really thinking." It could be exhausting to deal with and made it impossible to trust her the way he wanted to, but...
"She'd know what to look for, and figure out how the pieces fit together."
"Yes. She was still in Avalir when it fell." He doesn't know many details of that last day, and he's never decided if that was better or worse, but he knows who chose to go down fighting for their city. For the people who could still be saved.
"Good. Then I won't have to worry about the hypothetical of them meeting, if Barbara were alive. Instead I can uselessly wish she was, in order to make her your problem."
Even as relaxed as he is, there isn't really... any show of regret or sympathy there. Humans are awful. And also - there are lines, he at least thinks he is balancing on already.
"You don't know what they're getting up to in the afterlife." Black humour is a fixture of the divine apocalypse - and he's pretty sure Patia would roll her eyes if he got offended. "Which would definitely be more your problem than mine, a mere mortal who can't cross planes on a whim."
Unless their souls simply ceased to be, which is always a possibility. But he always liked to think Patia's drifted into Ioun's domain, and it seems like Barbara's might too.
"I didn't say it would be smart, just that it was possible." He could leave it as a wry retort, but instead he opens his eyes.
"...But have you ever tried?"
It's been a long time now since Asmodeus spoke up, but it's a warm rumble that seems at home in the little scene they've made. He really is darling, isn't he.
Perhaps it's reassurance that he's not taking offense at the turn in conversation; perhaps it's an insidiously gentle reminder that he is, in fact, still listening to it; perhaps he was just that profoundly amused.
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Judging by the ragged gasp and wide eyes, Bruce has very effectively shaken his composure. That doesn't stop a hoarse, throaty laugh as he says, "Show-off."
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but is cut off by a very large, very black, very fluffy cat jumping up onto the bed, slinking over and onto Zerxus' chest, and then sitting there - back to Bruce, tail lashing- and staring down into his face from very close.
With very... orange, and unnaturally illuminated eyes.
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"Hello?" How does he feel more vulnerable with a cat straddling him than a devil -
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Bruce... growls in irritation at very literally finding the cat between them. The cat seemingly does not care, in the least.
"He's obnoxious, but he doesn't talk." Just being clear while... petting the cat absently, rather than immediately following through with his intent to scruff and remove it.
The cat, on it's part, lowers itself down into a loaf, and reaches out one paw and pats Zerxus' cheek. Claws retracted. Still threatening, somehow, given the aggressive eye contact.
"...at least that I've heard." All things were possible when the Lord of hell was your father , and no evidence was concrete evidence.
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"It's better than being flopped on by Tempus. Does he have a name?"
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The Cat shifts its weight forward and headbutts Zerxus in the chin when he hears his name.
"And he has two minutes to remove-"
Actually, nevermind. Bruce moves off Zerxus to lay beside him. He keeps his hand on the cat, though. Also: "You can move your hands."
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"Nice to meet you, Alfred." Finally, he pulls his hands back, and reaches one over to - well, get either licked or nipped at, depending on where he stands with this cat.
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A cat that turns and gives Bruce a long, unblinking stare before turning back to Zerxus hand and giving it a tiny, very gentle bite before beginning to lick in a similarly dainty way ... and purr.
bruce rolls his eyes. "For fuck's sake."
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Meaning, really, that he didn't know either.
Still irritated at the taunting, though. And preference for Zerxus. Bruce isn't even sure if he's more jealous of the cat or Zerxus.
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Reaching over to pet a devil's hair with his free hand is probably dumb, but he's gonna do it.
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Which gets a pause and stare from the cat, but no further action. Because Bruce follows that with an eye roll and actively cuddling in against his pet mortal and petting his devilsh cat.
"You should either go back to sleep and dream more, or tell me more about your previous dreams and the consequences."
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"I should go back to sleep." He knows, distantly, that he's still drained; that the responsible thing to do would be closing his eyes, and relaxing as much as he can.
But he's got a purring cat and a cuddly devil and that's so much better than the nightmares, prophetic or not.
"They usually start out - not normally. But there are things, places, people I recognise. Things it makes sense to dream about. Then it all...twists, somehow."
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Not that Bruce wouldn't bite him for it, in another circumstance. Bruce is a defensively bitey fuck, often with apparently for no cause.
For now, he's naked, warm and has human (and feline) contact and a decided lack of voices in his head. It's downright relaxing, and he is fully prepared to enjoy it for at least a little bit.
"And you never remember the details long after waking? That makes it hard to verify...accuracy or ...method of encryption."
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Still. Maybe the things that resonated the most did so for a reason, beyond minds having their own strange whims. He closes his eyes, and sinks into the steady warmth around him. It feels - safer, in this moment, to reach deeper again.
"I remember - years ago, I think before the war even started - there was a tree. With petals that faded to nothing right before they reached the ground, and branches that reached into the stars..."
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He bites Zerxus shoulder sharply. "Keep petting." Him. Not the cat. The cat can make its own demands.
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"I'll be polite, and not mention how obvious that was." That doesn't count.
Then, far more softly, "Sounds like Patia."
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What.
Why?
Show your work!
(And keep petting, because that is glorious and has Bruce's eyes half closed, in a decidedly like a cat like way. ...Which also may or may not be why Alfred 'casually' stretches and winds up making physical contact with him.)
"and Who or what is Patia?"
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Alfred isn't slick either, but he's not about to call that out.
"Patia was...the sort of wizard most of them pretend to be. She wielded knowledge like a weapon, kept records of everything, never let anyone know what she was really thinking." It could be exhausting to deal with and made it impossible to trust her the way he wanted to, but...
"She'd know what to look for, and figure out how the pieces fit together."
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"Yes. She was still in Avalir when it fell." He doesn't know many details of that last day, and he's never decided if that was better or worse, but he knows who chose to go down fighting for their city. For the people who could still be saved.
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Even as relaxed as he is, there isn't really... any show of regret or sympathy there. Humans are awful. And also - there are lines, he at least thinks he is balancing on already.
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Unless their souls simply ceased to be, which is always a possibility. But he always liked to think Patia's drifted into Ioun's domain, and it seems like Barbara's might too.
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Or the sort of welcome he'd receive.
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"...But have you ever tried?"
It's been a long time now since Asmodeus spoke up, but it's a warm rumble that seems at home in the little scene they've made. He really is darling, isn't he.
Perhaps it's reassurance that he's not taking offense at the turn in conversation; perhaps it's an insidiously gentle reminder that he is, in fact, still listening to it; perhaps he was just that profoundly amused.
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