singillatim | open | i'll never die, i am a freak

Bruce doesn't smile, but there's something friendly in the way he speaks. Amused, even.

"I'm sure the Lord will understand. We're in unusual circumstances."

And it is those same circumstances that have Bruce obscuring the real reason for his visit. If there really is a cache of supplies here used by some other version of himself, he didn't really want Dorian knowing it without Bruce having a look for himself. It isn't that Bruce isn't inclined to share, but he's aware of how he thinks and those supplies might not be useful to anyone not named Bruce Wayne.

"Mind if I come in and get warmed up? I'm trying to figure out how big this place is, so I've been out in the cold for a while."

"Of course," Dorian says, with a little nod. He props his shovel up on a nearby gravestone as he gestures for Bruce to follow him.

"I'll admit, the church could be a bit warmer. It's quite drafty inside. But anything's warmer than being out here, in the cold, in the middle of fucking nowhere."

It only mattered that it was warmer on the inside than the out. Bruce (and all of his extremities) would appreciate the noticeable change in temperatures. He followed Dorian without another word into the church. He doesn't sit yet. Not until he's invited to and he's got a moment to survey the building.

"Have you taken time to look around the town?"

"Not much of a town to begin with," Dorian points out, with a small little shrug. He flops down on one of the pews, gesturing for Bruce to do the same. "If you can call a community center, a few stores, and a church a 'town.' But yes, I've looked around. Quaint little place, isn't it? It makes you wonder how exactly people here survived before whatever happened actually happened."

Because even if there was a bright, functional, working town heated by electricity and running water, there's not much in the way of 'roads,' is there. Someone's got to have come in from the outside to stock the grocery store or bring in mining equipment. The question now is 'who' and 'from where.'

It's true and it strikes Bruce's curiosity. Quaint isn't how he'd describe it though. The smallness of Milton feels claustrophobic instead. Suffocating, as if it means to squeeze them until they're as empty and dead as the empty houses here.

"Probably by a much nicer town nearby." Whether nearby meant 10 miles or 100, Bruce couldn't say. Not until he took the time to venture off into the woods to see what might be found there. He'd do that soon enough, when he's secured himself a reliable way to make it back. Hence the need for supplies. Bruce sits at Dorian's invitation.

"What is your supply situation?"

"Alright," Dorian shrugs. "I've found some canned food. Clothes. Honestly, some of them look a bit closer to your size than mine—feel free to try them on."

He's generous like that! And even though he doesn't know the extent of those costumed vigilante muscles that Bruce has, it's apparent that he's at least a little beefier than Dorian, a man who has the muscle definition of a basement shut-in.

"Care to rummage through the closet and see what fits?"

Look at that. Here Bruce thought he was the generous one. Because if Dorian had not answered positively, Bruce would have at least offered to get him what he needed. Not for free mind, but he would not have had to go out and look for it himself.

He's still dressed in the threads Tim brought him on his first night here. So to have a few other things he can change into or use to layer up with would be greatly appreciated by him and his costumed vigilante muscles.

"Sure, if it's not an imposition."

Dorian's so nice. He's just a nice person. Look at him, he's nice and kind and helpful and certainly isn't acting nice and kind and helpful on the off-chance that he can convince other people who are more kind and helpful than he is to help his useless ass survive in the frozen north. He's just nice. No ulterior motives here whatsoever.

"If it was an imposition, I wouldn't have mentioned it," Dorian lightly points out. "Follow me." He gestures for Bruce to follow him as he makes his way further into the church, into the small little attached apartment, something obviously originally used by the church's priest. Dorian's attempted to make it a bit homey—there are some books he's scrounged up and he's found a perfectly inoffensive painting of flowers to hang up, but it's nowhere near close to an actual home.

The thing about Bruce? He was naturally suspicious. So he doesn't trust for a single second Dorian is doing this out of the goodness of his heart. But he's patient enough not to demand the other shoe to drop now. He could wait and not be surprised when it happens.
He's not above pretending to be kinder than he was to get what he needed out of people. It was part of the facade. It was part of the act. Sometimes it came as naturally as breathing.

He's silent as he follows, taking in points of interest around the church. That's habit too. Because there'd always be just in case. There's nothing of interest in the apartment, aside from Dorian's attempts to make it homey. It doesn't feel that way to Bruce, but he lives in a glass house and there's no warmth in it save what Alfred brought himself. He's quick to rifle through the clothes, taking things he thought would be useful in the longer term - another pair of boots and long sleeves to create thicker layers with. It would do for now.

And wasn't quite what he thought he'd find. He'd hoped his other self had scrounge up supplies. Building material and the like to save him some time foraging for it himself. But oh well. He would have to make do.

"This'll do." He doesn't say thank you.

Dorian's manner is one who will happily yammer on about small talk and chit-chat no matter what. But as he turns back to see Bruce, a man who is very obviously radiating big 'don't talk to me' energy, he simply raises an eyebrow before letting him rummage through the clothes in silence. That is, until Bruce finally speaks. Dorian raises an eyebrow before he lightly sasses back, "You're welcome."

Because seriously, Bruce. You say 'thank you.' Everybody knows this.

"I'm a 32 in trousers and a small in tops, by the way. It's always nice to help out, hmm? Consider it reciprocity."

Keep an eye out for clothes for Dorian, please!

He lives with Alfred. The sass is ignored.

Bruce is thankfully used to being volunteered for things. His name and his likeness attached to charities because his Wayne Enterprises makes hefty donations, sets up funds for victims of Batman's antics and Superman's too come to think of it. So he's not fazed at all when Dorian offers up his sizes.

Bruce might keep an out for him. But he's got other priorities.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Dorian isn't going to get those clothes and he knows it. Still, he's not going to ignore the opportunity to be a little shit. So, he gives Bruce a wide smile and just keeps yammering on.

"Wonderful! After all, we're all scrambling around, trying to find what's useful and what's helpful, right? Everybody arrived here with nothing but the shirt on their back." And a cursed portrait and some cocaine, but Dorian's keeping quiet about both of those. "We've got to look out for each other in a place like this, you know? Help each other out. Neighborly-like."

So stop being a bitch and find him some clothes.

It wasn't that Bruce had an issue with helping others. It had been a parting gift from his mother and father - that deep seated sense of compassion. That unwavering desire to be helpful especially in a shared adversity may have become clouded and distorted by twenty years of vigilantism and too many deeply personal losses. But it was still there.

But, Bruce had other priorities. Seeking out clothes now that he had an armful of his own was low on the list. Lucky for Dorian, though, Bruce would eventually be in need to scavenge supplies for a work bench and something to store the map of the town he intended to make. He was bound to come across something in his hunt for what he needed.

"I don't have neighbors."

A true statement. He lives in a glass house on a lake surrounded by trees.

"You do now," Dorian says, as if it's the most obvious thing ever. Because sorry, Bruce. You do have neighbors now. You're in a situation, in a place where surprise: you have neighbors. Especially since there's nothing about this man that seems like he'd be good at being a crusty, gross wilderness survival type. Nope. He's living in the town and as such, he's having neighbors.

"I would say I'm sorry to be the one to break the news to you but actually? I'm not."

The look on Bruce's face must be a mix of incredulity in some amusement. It makes him smirk. He's never had to be a good neighbor. Besides, he'd set up in a gas station on the opposite side of town from the church. If anything, Dorian wasn't even really his neighbor at all. But he took this kid's point.

"Fine, Dorian. Couldn't have you out here freezing to death could we?"

Dorian gives Bruce a bright, innocent, 'I have done nothing wrong ever in my life' sort of smile. Damn straight Bruce is going to help find him clothes. The sooner he realizes that, the better.

"Precisely! We've got to help each other out now and act as a real community."

So find me some damn clothes.

Unfortunately for Dorian, Bruce does not trust or believe the innocence his smile is trying to convey. 20 years fighting crime has taught him no one tries this hard unless they've got something to hide.

Or maybe he's just paranoid? Who knows!

"If I come across anything I'll be sure to bring it. Do you want food too?"

Unfortunately for Bruce, Dorian is going to keep trying anyway. He's bright and sweet and innocent and lovely and do not press further about any poor choices he makes.

"Only if you have any spare food. I don't want to put anybody out, of course."

But also? Yes please, he'd like food.

He could handle that. Bruce had always been more than a little willing to help other folks, even the ones who just didn't seem to sit right with him. Whatever his suspicions were, he wouldn't turn his back on someone who might genuinely needed his help.

And if Dorian is up to no good, Bruce would like to keep an eye on him.

"Give me a few days and I'll bring you what I've found."
He's honestly gotten what he came for so there's no real reason to stick around beyond that. So he begins to make his way toward the exit. And he still didn't say thank you.

No thank you, no good bye... this guy is an asshole. Which really, that just makes Dorian want to be even more obnoxious in response. He can be a petty jerk right back at Bruce! Bruce can deal!

"I'll appreciate that!" Dorian says, with a bright little smile and a cheery wave. "See you around!"

You're not getting rid of him, baby.

open | i'll never die, i am a freak

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I'm so sorry for the delay. If it's too old, feel free to drop!

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