[His tone is quick and dismissive, eager to take what he thinks of as deprecation and toss it aside.]
But there are others in this city who would kill to possess everything you do. [And do.]</small Sometimes we have no choice about becoming a symbol to people we feel no connection to.
[Crane says nothing. Everybody knows the story about Bruce Wayne losing his parents, randomly at night for no sensible reason.]
That hardly sounds like denial.
[He makes his point but coaches it softly with acknowledgement if not understanding. People who lost their parents. People who never knew their parents. Both can something in common. Like dressing up at night and taking their anger out on others.]
[One time in his life, Crane would have found Bruce's behaviour deeply intimidating. He remembers being a shivering wreck. He remembers pleading for everything to stop. Now he studies and observes. His eyes showing no concern where one would rightfully expect emotion.
All he does is stare. He refuses to lean forward or leave his chair.
One might imagine him holding two electrical wires, connected to the same idea, that haven't quite been connected enough to make a spark.]
It doesn't matter what you want. It is what you are.
[Evasive speech patterns. Words that flatter and praise. His mind continues analysing and making observations. Bruce looks comfortable in his chair but his interchanging movements, his searching stares, suggest discomfort on a spiritual level.
Crane mirrors this posture. His body looks accustomed to sitting in its position, but because of his lean build he cannot stop himself looking stiff and awkward, positioned with all the correctness of a man schooled in manners. Nor are his clothes equally tailored. His sleeves are slightly too short, his head slightly too large.
But obviously he's right. He is proud to be good at what he does. Why else is Bruce Wayne sitting in the client's seat?]
[ A loaded question with a thousand ways to answer. He knows he's being analyzed. His every movement turned over and nitpicked and categorized. Whether it's for a diagnosis or for something else, Bruce hasn't decided yet.
It's only fair Bruce do it too. He notes the awkward way Crane sits, the shortness in his sleeves and the way his jacket doesn't fit quite right. You'd think a man of Crane's stature would at least be moneyed enough to afford a jacket that fits. ]
Crane notices himself being studied, sliced and dissected down to his mental bones, but directs his attention to showing no discomfort. He has endured the evil eye throughout his life and carries himself perfectly. He mirrors Bruce's argument with a cold and distant tone - not dismissive but impassive.
Distant. Observant.]
Then you are free to leave.
[Which begs the question: why are you still here?]
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[His tone is quick and dismissive, eager to take what he thinks of as deprecation and toss it aside.]
But there are others in this city who would kill to possess everything you do. [And do.]</small Sometimes we have no choice about becoming a symbol to people we feel no connection to.
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They shouldn't. I lost a great deal to live this life.
[ And maybe he'd give it all up if it meant he could have it all back again. Thomas, Martha. Dick. ]
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That hardly sounds like denial.
[He makes his point but coaches it softly with acknowledgement if not understanding. People who lost their parents. People who never knew their parents. Both can something in common. Like dressing up at night and taking their anger out on others.]
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I don't want to be a symbol of anything to anyone.
[ Just what are you implying, Crane? ]
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All he does is stare. He refuses to lean forward or leave his chair.
One might imagine him holding two electrical wires, connected to the same idea, that haven't quite been connected enough to make a spark.]
It doesn't matter what you want. It is what you are.
[You cannot lie your way out of that, Bruce.]
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He sits back after a moment and schools his face back into something unreadable. ]
Maybe it doesn't. Doesn't mean I have to accept it.
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One might accuse Bruce of emotional ghosting. But he would charge him with seeking an answer to an unspoken question.]
Like whatever you believe matters.
[He is quiet yet observant.]
People consider themselves important to the life of this city. Everyone will treat you as what you are, regardless of your opinion.
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You're right. I can't stop people from thinking what they want about me. Even if I'm not what they think I am.
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Crane mirrors this posture. His body looks accustomed to sitting in its position, but because of his lean build he cannot stop himself looking stiff and awkward, positioned with all the correctness of a man schooled in manners. Nor are his clothes equally tailored. His sleeves are slightly too short, his head slightly too large.
But obviously he's right. He is proud to be good at what he does. Why else is Bruce Wayne sitting in the client's seat?]
And what do you think you are?
no subject
It's only fair Bruce do it too. He notes the awkward way Crane sits, the shortness in his sleeves and the way his jacket doesn't fit quite right. You'd think a man of Crane's stature would at least be moneyed enough to afford a jacket that fits. ]
Bored. Very bored.
no subject
Crane notices himself being studied, sliced and dissected down to his mental bones, but directs his attention to showing no discomfort. He has endured the evil eye throughout his life and carries himself perfectly. He mirrors Bruce's argument with a cold and distant tone - not dismissive but impassive.
Distant. Observant.]
Then you are free to leave.
[Which begs the question: why are you still here?]