[ That faint smile is Bruce's whole world for a moment. His own mirrors it unconsciously, delighted to feel some small sense of normalcy, and he finds himself breathing a little easier as they roll to a stop.
The diner is small and unassuming, but Bruce had known that before they'd even arrived. He's seen the photos and knows the square footage, but doesn't trouble himself with the idea that the owner might be in, instead pretending to take it in for the first time as he climbs slowly out of the car. ]
Looks cozy.
[ Cozier than the neighborhood it's in but Bruce knows better than to look down on any corner in Gotham. If there's poverty or crime, then he's partially responsible for not getting the right money in the right people's hands to help. ]
Come here often?
[ From anyone else it might sound like a line, but there's a genuine curiosity in Bruce as he waits for Alfred to walk alongside him. ]
[Which means not as often now that Tiffany is gone, she was the one who was always kind and friendly to Alfred. Their brief friendship meant a lot to him.
He waves hello to the other girls behind the counter and leads Bruce over to a table near the window. One of the other waitresses, Carrie, comes over with menus.]
Here you go, Alfred.
Cheers, Carrie.
[The woman is in her thirties and she gives Bruce a little glance.]
[ There's a gentle nod of understanding at that. Bruce doesn't press for more than what's already been shared about Alfred's late friend and the tragedy of her death. He knows firsthand how hard familiar spaces can be when the people you shared them with are gone.
There's a reason Bruce isn't in the manor, after all.
The suit jacket he's in makes him standout as an easy mark but there's something in the small scattering of patrons that tells Bruce he'll be fine. It's the way they regard Alfred. Respect and something akin to admiration in their eyes. Even Carrie, with all her familiarity, treats Alfred like he's more than just a regular. ]
Oh. No, I'm his—
[ Bruce starts then stops, momentarily unsure what to say. He's Alfred's. Full stop. Always has been because the lines were always blurry until Bruce drew them in the sand in an effort to excise the man from his life to better isolate himself in his misery and grief. Now... ]
His friend.
[ Carrie looks at him dubiously but Bruce smiles in an attempt to disarm her and whatever skepticism she might be working through. ]
Seems he has a lot of them here.
[ That does the trick and Carrie brightens, all too happy to tell the tale of their local hero. ]
That's because your friend ran into a burning building just next door. Helped get everyone out. We're proud to have him.
I get that. I feel the same.
[ The ache of not having Alfred anymore forces Bruce to keep the conversation moving. Mostly because he doesn't want to run the risk of hearing Alfred correct him in front of an audience. ]
He says you have excellent milkshakes. Could we trouble you for a strawberry one?
Of course, doll. Alfred? Anything else while I give you two a second to look over the menu?
['He's my son.' Those are the words that are so close to coming out but Alfred stops them just in time, allowing Bruce to correct Carrie and label whatever it is they are now.
Friends.
It's better than what Bruce called him when he demanded he leave the manor but it still hurts him a little to be called anything other than the boy's family.]
I'll have a cup of tea, please and thank you.
[He says and Carrie tips him a wink and heads off to get their drinks, once she is gone Alfred clears his throat and adjusts the cutlery on the table. Straightening it out.]
She's exaggerating, by the way. It wasn't just me who went into the building to help.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
The diner is small and unassuming, but Bruce had known that before they'd even arrived. He's seen the photos and knows the square footage, but doesn't trouble himself with the idea that the owner might be in, instead pretending to take it in for the first time as he climbs slowly out of the car. ]
Looks cozy.
[ Cozier than the neighborhood it's in but Bruce knows better than to look down on any corner in Gotham. If there's poverty or crime, then he's partially responsible for not getting the right money in the right people's hands to help. ]
Come here often?
[ From anyone else it might sound like a line, but there's a genuine curiosity in Bruce as he waits for Alfred to walk alongside him. ]
no subject
[Which means not as often now that Tiffany is gone, she was the one who was always kind and friendly to Alfred. Their brief friendship meant a lot to him.
He waves hello to the other girls behind the counter and leads Bruce over to a table near the window. One of the other waitresses, Carrie, comes over with menus.]
Here you go, Alfred.
Cheers, Carrie.
[The woman is in her thirties and she gives Bruce a little glance.]
Whose this? A nephew?
no subject
There's a reason Bruce isn't in the manor, after all.
The suit jacket he's in makes him standout as an easy mark but there's something in the small scattering of patrons that tells Bruce he'll be fine. It's the way they regard Alfred. Respect and something akin to admiration in their eyes. Even Carrie, with all her familiarity, treats Alfred like he's more than just a regular. ]
Oh. No, I'm his—
[ Bruce starts then stops, momentarily unsure what to say. He's Alfred's. Full stop. Always has been because the lines were always blurry until Bruce drew them in the sand in an effort to excise the man from his life to better isolate himself in his misery and grief. Now... ]
His friend.
[ Carrie looks at him dubiously but Bruce smiles in an attempt to disarm her and whatever skepticism she might be working through. ]
Seems he has a lot of them here.
[ That does the trick and Carrie brightens, all too happy to tell the tale of their local hero. ]
That's because your friend ran into a burning building just next door. Helped get everyone out. We're proud to have him.
I get that. I feel the same.
[ The ache of not having Alfred anymore forces Bruce to keep the conversation moving. Mostly because he doesn't want to run the risk of hearing Alfred correct him in front of an audience. ]
He says you have excellent milkshakes. Could we trouble you for a strawberry one?
Of course, doll. Alfred? Anything else while I give you two a second to look over the menu?
no subject
Those are the words that are so close to coming out but Alfred stops them just in time, allowing Bruce to correct Carrie and label whatever it is they are now.
Friends.
It's better than what Bruce called him when he demanded he leave the manor but it still hurts him a little to be called anything other than the boy's family.]
I'll have a cup of tea, please and thank you.
[He says and Carrie tips him a wink and heads off to get their drinks, once she is gone Alfred clears his throat and adjusts the cutlery on the table. Straightening it out.]
She's exaggerating, by the way. It wasn't just me who went into the building to help.