angermanaging | IC contact (TuShanshu)

It's about Tony.

[ He really doesn't need to add specifics here. ]

[No, he doesn't.] Ah. Then you're...

[Bruce readjusts what he was going to say, subtly sympathetic.] It's hard to see someone you've lost. I get it.

I talked to him for like ten seconds and made the biggest idiot of myself. You need to come and program my console with something that forces me to answer the "Jack did you think about this first?" question before it'll allow me to talk to other people.

Whoa, whoa. It's okay. If there's anyone that knows making an idiot of himself...

[Bruce doesn't feel like he knows Tony well enough to really speak for him here, but he knows he's not mean, and whatever had led to him being friends with Jack the first time around would probably hold true the second time. He realizes that might be a comforting point to mention.]

Something worked out last time, right? Give it a chance.

I, I know-- I'm sorry, this... is all really selfish of me. It's not fair to treat people like you just expect them to be, I know that, I've been on that receiving end.

[His voice softens. There's a tone to it that Jack hasn't heard before, because Bruce only uses it when he likes someone enough to actually try comforting them-- a very rare circumstance. It's quiet and considerate, patient like he usually is but more attentive, lined with empathy.]

Hey. Calm down. You're not being selfish. It's okay to take a while to adjust, Jack.

[ He's quiet for a moment, the lack of breathing making the line utterly silent until he speaks again. ]

Can... can I come over for a little while?

[He's surprised for half a second, but then he says,] Yeah, of course.

I'm at home. Water 1C... remember? [Since that was where they'd met.]

I remember. I'll see you soon.

[Bruce is waiting for him, the windows already opened to let in what breeze there was in the summer. His apartment doesn't look all that different from the last time Jack was there-- Bruce is never someone that accumulates a lot of stuff or bothers to decorate. It's still mostly barren, with the only difference the occasional piece of mechanical equipment in an odd location, half worked on.

Standing by the counter, Bruce has tea already made, a plain cast iron pot on a small trivet. There's one plain Asian style tea cup, and one tall glass filled with ice; he's pouring as Jack comes in, and looks over.]

I made tea, [he says by way of greeting, stating the obvious to get any potential awkward out of the way.]

[ Jack doesn't bring Damian's invention, not intending to stay out in the warm temperatures long enough to worry about needing it, still sufficiently chilled by being able to spend time in his treehouse thanks to Bruce's modifications and how he internalized the majority of the cold into his body.

He landed lightly, bare toes splaying across the metal railing outside Bruce's window to balance there for a moment before slipping fluidly inside. He seems more composed than he did on the audio feed earlier, tipping a quiet smile at Bruce for the greeting and upon seeing the ice in the glass. ]

Hey. Thanks, tea sounds... good.

[Although he's obviously aware that Jack has issues with the heat, Bruce considers them none of his business unless Jack wants to bring them up. He's conscientious of the fact that Jack is much older than he seems, and doesn't really need to be looked after; what help he offers is simply because he likes him.

Bruce finishes pouring and pushes the glass over toward him, the steaming tea melting the ice quickly.] You probably need to make it colder, but I figured hot tea wasn't your thing.

[He's reaching for his own cup and turning to lean back against the counter, holding it and looking at Jack sidelong, trying not to be invasive. He doesn't want to push too fast, especially when emotional honesty is far from his strong suit anyway.]

[ Jack takes the glass and wraps slender fingers around it with an appreciative smile, bringing it to his lips and taking a cautious sip. Although it was only lukewarm by human standards, it still felt quite hot to Jack. He blew a crackle of frost gently across it, mindful of the glass so not to break it. He only wanted to cool it a little, still leaving it with some warmth for a change of pace.

In some ways Bruce's gaze on him felt like North's, patient and calming. Jack matched his pose, leaning against the counter so they stood side by side, taking a moment just to appreciate that he was able to even do this with someone else. ]

It's good. Zatanna's usually the tea person but... I like it.

Edited (and then it ate the last line) 2013-07-30 17:28 (UTC)

[It's getting less strange to watch people carelessly do things like blow frost onto their iced tea, so Bruce doesn't think anything of it. He'd been expecting it. He just sips at his own, deciding how he wants to approach this. There's no question that there's an elephant in the room, but Bruce still thinks that head on might not be the right way.]

It's calming, [he offers.] I know this was a surprise. I was surprised.

[He's just made it his purpose not to react to surprises.]

[ Jack tries it again and finds he's able to drink it now, swallowing some before replying to Bruce's comment. ]

It doesn't make any sense to... to have sent him away and then bring him back so soon with no memories of being here. Why would the Emperor do that? How does that help her, and Asti? How does that help anyone?

They're not as organized and in control as they want us to think, [he says quietly.] I know that much for certain.

[From his own investigations, and from having Costigan confirm it for him. There's no doubt in his tone.]

Whatever it is, I'm just-- [A beat of hesitation, because Bruce doesn't usually open up this much, but he tentatively adds,] I'm glad I don't have to keep wondering. [Where he is, what'd happened to him. Those questions aren't really answered, but they're less painful with him here.]

[ Tension tightens a line across Jack's shoulders as he stares into his glass. That was the correct reaction, of course. Wasn't it? Not being unhappy that a friendship had been set back to square one but relief and appreciation that someone returned-- though Bruce and Pepper hadn't become strangers with this, they all belonged to the same world. They knew each other regardless of Tu Vishan. ]

You're right.

[ When he looks up at Bruce again, he's smiling. ]

Not to mention I should totally take advantage of his not being able to see me for pranking because he'd do the same, if things were reversed. Don't rat me out, okay?

[He's not sure he totally buys that smile, given how he'd tensed up a second before, but Bruce meets it without demand.]

I won't. [Not that Bruce ever really encourages pranking, but he definitely doesn't want to interfere with it either.] But do me a favor. Don't wait too long before you say hi again.

[They're both acting somewhat weird about this-- or, well, Tony's acting weird and Jack is understandably upset, but he thinks they'd hash it out better with each other, and a lot faster, than they could with anyone else. Or with dwelling on it, which he knows is all Tony's going to do, rather than actually talk about it.]

I won't. I'll get in touch with him again in a day or two, all right?

[ The unspoken I'll try to make it right is there, though nothing in his voice or expression betrays it as he takes another sip of his tea. ]

You know-- you, and he and Pepper... you're the closest thing to family I have here. Sorry if that sounds weird or it's one of those things I'm not supposed to say out loud but, that's how I think of you guys.

[That's all the answer Bruce really wanted, and he's raising his own tea unhurriedly to drink when Jack keeps talking, and his hand stills halfway there.

There's a flicker of something painful across his face before he can stop it. Family. The word is something of a landmine for Bruce, and although they're not talking about his family-- he never talks about his family-- there's an implication here that he has someone in it again, in some vague, unspecified, not blood related way.

He spares a bitter thought that Jack doesn't know how grateful he should be that they aren't actually family. Anyone with his genes is doomed.

Tony and Pepper make sense. Bruce can see why someone would get attached to them-- he'd gotten attached himself, after all, and for good reason. They were both generous without being invasive, not perfect, but dedicated to the right thing. All qualities Bruce admired. He had a hard time finding anything about himself that would match that.

But Jack didn't know, did he? What kind of person he was attaching himself to like this. Bruce just hadn't gotten around to telling him, not when he instinctively kept every scrap of information about the Hulk to himself by long habit. And maybe now wasn't the time to go into that explanation, which was convoluted, and bad timing with Tony just arrived again. Aside from which, he's uncomfortably reminded of Betty, and how insulting it would be to refuse her faith in him. Hers he's forced to accept because she knows everything he's willing to give breath to about him, and still decides to, but moreover, it seems cruel to refuse someone something like this.

He puts his tea down instead of drinking it, raising his hand to rub at his face, trying to muster together a response.] I, uh, I'm not really a... good choice, [to put it mildly,] but--

Thanks. [Lowering his hand, glancing over. He's unable to smile, but there's something soft about his expression. He searches for something to say that won't seem like he's rejecting him.] It'll work out, [he says honestly.] You're not going to lose us.

[That's not really a promise he can make, he knows, with the state of things. People disappearing, reappearing, with and without memories; that they're all clones; that they could die and might not come back, with the war gearing up. Bruce makes it anyway. If he couldn't believe in the idea that someone was there for you without their physical presence, he wouldn't have gotten through the past nine years with his sanity.]

[ Jack tries to read Bruce's reaction; read it completely, because his kneejerk feelings get the spirit into trouble more often than not and Tony was a case in point. He sees the pain before it gets cleared away again, the pass of one hand across his face (Jack does that himself, when he's thinking, when words don't cooperate, and he finds a tiny bit of contentment in being like someone else).

He smiles a bit at the attempted deflection, thinks that's okay, I'm not a good choice either and the thanks that comes without a smile, though he gets the understanding and something like let him down gently and Jack thinks, that's more than most people have ever bothered to do.

Jack almost laughs at the reassurance, but that would have been cruel as well. Still, there's a soft pain lingering behind his eyes like an old ache, like a phantom limb. He knows three centuries of loss and it shows if one knows how to see it, like counting the children on the playground because there were rumours of Scarlet fever going around, like sitting on January farmhouses where little boys who he'd watched grow into young men got letters delivered with military condolences. It is with our deepest regret to inform you that...

Academically Jack knows that it's never been personal but he goes to the winter funerals when they're held and when the mourners are gone he leaves frost on the new headstones, wishing he could chisel away the born and died dates to add a few more decades between them. He might be new to making two-way connections -- bonds formed and reciprocated but he's always, always known what it's like to be the one left behind. ]

I know.

[Meanwhile, Bruce can barely begin to guess at what's going through Jack's head. He doesn't know all that much about the spirit, not really; and he adds that to his mental list to remedy, alongside telling him about the Hulk. If they're going to be pseudo-not-really bad choices family, however reluctantly and tacitly, then they should know something about each other. Bruce likes his secrets, but he isn't dense or asocial; he knows you're supposed to give them up to the people important to you.

And he also knows that, with this mental shift in his head, he's not as willing to just let things go whenever they arise. Bruce doesn't think of him as really family, no, that's not a word he ever wants to use again outside of its original context, and letting someone close to him in the first place is its own immense difficulty-- but even without that explicitly defined term, he likes Jack. He feels somewhat responsible for him, just a little. And moreover, he wants to help.]

You sure? [he asks quietly, meeting his eyes head on.] That I'm not missing something?

[It's an open offer to talk. One Bruce doesn't make very often.]

[ The winter teen turns the glass back and forth between his hands, catching the tiny droplets of condensation formed by the competing temperatures between the tea's warmth and his own chill. They froze against his skin and he ran them back and forth like tiny marbles around in his palm, up his fingers and back down again in the same way a master of sleight of hand would handle coins. ]

You mean something not about Tony?

[ He seems perfectly content to let the familial discussion rest there, as though aware that his broaching the subject even by a little had raised the level of awkwardness in the room. Cautious of creating a wedge between them, Jack realized he probably should have kept it to himself. Bruce, he decides, has enough to deal with on a regular basis without adding a needy spirit into the mix.

He holds out his glass hoping for more tea but the gesture is a plain message: whatever Bruce wants to ask, he'll answer. ]

[It's fascinating to watch the frozen droplets slide across his hands, but Bruce doesn't let himself be distracted. He's too sharp not to notice how Jack had turned the question back around on him, not volunteering anything but not closing up, either. To someone as experienced and versatile in verbal evasion as Bruce, it's noticeable.

He isn't worried about the possibility of creating a wedge or a point of friction. Although it's almost impossible to get Bruce to declare his attachment to anyone out loud, once they've earned it in some measure, he's loyal to a fault. It's hard to drive him off, and it'd take a lot more than a peripheral mention of what is one of his taboo subjects, especially after Jack had backed off so quickly, something he hugely appreciates.

But he's careful about his response here, at first not sure what to say. He fills the pause in which he thinks it over with pouring more tea for him, not steaming any longer but still hot and needing to be refrosted. As he withdraws the pot, he says,] I mean anything that you'd want to say.

[Wanting to clear the air, he adds,] If we're going to be not really family, we should probably be opening up. [There's a subtle note of humor to the statement, a self-conscious jab at himself for his difficulty doing that.]

[ The tea gives Jack another excused moment in which to gather his thoughts, carefully cooling it down and enjoying another long drink. ]

I've got a really good memory.

[ a pause; it sounds awkward, without context, without framing ]

I don't know if it's a spirit thing, like how I always know what day of the year it is or exactly how many blizzards a place has had since... well, forever. It's like there's all this stuff crammed into my head and you could spend a whole lifetime just sorting it out.

But it's not just the big things, or the Winter things, it's... little memories too. Stupid stuff, like where on the desk the coffee cup was sitting when Pepper told him his "two o'clock" appointment had arrived, or the way he always moved the tip of the soldering iron counterclockwise before putting it back in its holder. I don't know if I'm supposed to keep stuff like that, or if I'm just supposed to forget about it... or if I even can.

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