someone's mouth said, "paint them all red"

[caballero]

Who: Bruce Wayne "Tom" and you?
What: Some new stuff and some old stuff; there are a couple of thread starters but otherwise it's totally open.
Where: Various places - default starter is Bonetown, but if you'd like to bump into Kermit elsewhere, ping me to wrangle an idea, the world is our oyster.
Notes: I want your CR and I want your revenge. Tho I apologize ahead of time - Bruce is not really proactive socially so if you want to hurl your character at him you might have to be the one to poke him with a stick. Also his permissions post has been updated, so if you haven't interacted with him before it's worth a read. I'M SORRY THIS CHARACTER IS SO DIFFICULT.
Warnings: TBA.

Bonetown, despite all political hardships and polarized status compared to other cantons - hell, much of the city - has managed to carry on relatively securely. Bruce appreciates the population of paranoid hermits, nonpowered nonEarthlings, and scientists and alchemists working to fail-safe their material, locked in a bubble free of interference. The salves and bandages he can pick up near his flat, made from all natural products originating from planets he's heard of and ones he hasn't, fill his medicine cabinet to overflowing; sometimes these old mothers look at him over the rims of their glasses and inspect the bruises on his hands with something like skeptical judgment, and he doesn't begrudge them that. He doesn't look like a hippie and never will, feelings deep in his heart aside.

Today's a mystery tea day. He can't pronounce what he got (yet), but the donut in the accompanying bag is laughably mundane (rainbow jimmies). The riverbank that overlooks the three-way split is good for the view, and also scoping out chaos at the arena across the way. He'll sit there for a while, then melt back into the crowds.

Comments

[behindfirelight]

The way Sol sees it - already, because of course - what he's getting here is a concession and he's willing to respect that, and now that Bruce has made it, he's not going to demand more than he's willing to give. He lets aside the question unanswered because it isn't like it's hard to find out in a lot of ways that he has a child; for one thing, he could easily have just been seen dropping her off. The importance of the distinction makes sense with the explanation he does get, and-- it doesn't bother him, not immediately:

“I was probably married, then,” he says, thoughtfully, twitching his cigarette absently between his fingers. (The stress-tension in him is not necessarily unfamiliar; he's working through something, but he's doing it quietly and in his own time, respectful of his own feelings as of anyone else's, even when his feelings are 'annoyed at having feelings'.) “I adopted Liesl as a baby, after my wife left.”

(How he thinks of their divorce and how he describes it - and it was a mutual decision - often depends on how he's feeling about his family in general.)

[caballero]

All right, so, Bruce already knew this Solomon was different, but that seals it; he's not going to comment on marriage of any kind, because, uh. Well it's not really relevant. This man has his own life. (Part of him admires how his not-friend is handling this, underlying tension or not; he's never had anything like that, without acting.)

"Okay." Behind him, his horse makes an impatient noise. Maybe she's complaining. (But about what?) Bruce half-turns and raises a hand at Sol, in parting. In the tone of someone saying something far more normal, "Well, it's been awkward."

[behindfirelight]

“Yeah,” he concedes, with a huff of amusement that never makes it to being a laugh, hands sliding back into the pockets of his jacket as he takes that cue with good grace and folds his curiosity back out of sight where it came from. The idea of 'different Solomons' fascinates him, conceptually; he's lived so many lifetimes already, but they are all part of him, it's not the same thing, and it makes him inescapably curious about the alternative.

It's just not actually his business, because it's not actually his life.

“Yeah, it has. Take care of yourself.” --reflexive, by way of farewell.

[caballero]

It'll be different now that they've actually spoken, Bruce knows. He doesn't think Sol will be able to not be curious and for himself - he's himself. He shoots the other man a look in parting that's almost apologetic (no one wants to be an alternate, least of all him) before carrying on the way he came. When he reaches the end of the paved street, Bruce pulls himself up into the saddle easily, and with one soft noise and the clatter of horseshoes, he's gone.