[for manorly_wayne]

[alan_shore]

The guards at Blackgate are starting to know him by sight. There are no pleasantries exchanged (unless the occasional sneered “Mr. Shore” can be considered a pleasantry) or special privileges accorded (although this is Gotham-there are some who’d say emerging unscathed from one of its prisons is a special privilege), but he’s now a known quantity,

Comments

[manorly_wayne]

Bruce Wayne is far from being the ideal client

[alan_shore]

Ironically--or, who knows, perhaps deliberately (don't think Alan hasn't mulled over Bruce's impeccably timed decision to hire him)--Bruce has selected a lawyer who, on a good day, could take or leave his career, and on a bad one is actively attempting to destroy it. Alan doesn't particularly need the money, either, and enjoys media attention only in the form of off-the-record interviews with attractive female reporters.

Which raises the question: what's in it for him?

"I'll try to be gentler than your last partner," he says, and although both voice and expression remain impassive, his jaw does clench. "What happened?"

[manorly_wayne]

Bruce isn't going to answer that. He doesn't think it's important, he doesn't think it's relevant, he thinks the answer is obvious. Why ask him questions when Alan can work out the information himself? It's ridiculous

[alan_shore]

It wasn't an answer Alan had been interested in so much as a reaction--any reaction, any form of acknowledgement. Bruce hasn't so much as made passing reference to the fact that his face has been pounded in.

"Business," he repeats, flatly. "Here's a notion, if I may be so bold: how about we set business aside for the moment and instead divert ourselves with cobbling together a defense that might allow us to postpone your departure from this earth?"

[manorly_wayne]

"That's your job, Alan. See, my job was getting arrested, strip searched, roughed up a bit and forced literally at gunpoint to wear orange. Your job is to organise my defense. We can swap places if you think that the county will go for it - but so far they're not the most gracious host I've ever encountered. So until we do our prison-swap, I guess you stick to planning my defence and I stick to looking great in a jumpsuit."

This is perhaps the most Bruce has said to Alan since this whole sorry saga started.

At least he's saying something. Even if it's just the exercise of his frustration that he can't control everything (everyone) from his jail cell.

"Have you got the papers, Alan?"

[alan_shore]

"I do."

He makes no move to produce them, however.

"Bruce, I've practiced law for"--the pause isn't for effect--"twenty years now. I've represented drug addicts, I've represented Denny Crane, I've represented myself, and you are far and away the least cooperative...do you want to be found guilty? I have nothing. You've given me nothing. Even the most inept of criminals would take the trouble to concoct some sort of an alibi. You don't even--I don't even know if this is registering."

[manorly_wayne]

It's the concern that Bruce can't take. He's never reacted comfortably to concern or kindness, he'll take almost anything else as a preference. And Alan sounds noticibly concerned -

Bruce looks like he's about to speak. It's almost as if there are words just hanging in the air wanting to be heard but they just aren't able.

And then he doesn't. He sits there, arms crossed, staring at the floor, completely quiet.

What can he say? He gave his statement. He's talked about it enough.

What else can he say?

He can't explain the bruises on his body. He can't explain where he was. He can't explain his feelings for Vesper.

He can't.

What can he say?

[alan_shore]

Alan allows the silence--such as it is; complete silence is hard to come by in a prison--a few moments to settle before disrupting it.

"Do you care?" he asks, almost in a whisper. It's one of those dangerous questions he's usually careful to give a wide berth. "She was murdered. If you--if you're found guilty, that's it. Case closed.

"You should be furious," he says. "You should be--"

He takes a breath, swallows. "They know about the gun."

[manorly_wayne]

And another silence hits. Alan should be getting used to them by now. Bruce has certainly inflicted enough on him over the last few days.

"Do I care about what"? Bruce says finally

[alan_shore]

"Your gun," Alan clarifies after a lengthy pause. If they're to conduct parallel conversations, like two people gabbing into their cellphones while occupying the same room, so be it. "The gun you obtained by less than legal means. And while this may not bode well as far as your prospects of ever again being permitted to choose your own clothes are concerned, it does serve as a superb example of things you should absolutely inform your lawyer about, so as to deny the opposing side the opportunity to ambush him with the information."

[manorly_wayne]

Just add it to the list of things ones lawyer should be informed about. It's a long list and includes everything from your alibi to the reason you're covered in defensive wounds to, maybe even, some understanding of your relationship with the deceased.

For one of the first times during the conversation his eyes meet Alan's. He looks right at Alan, so direct, like he really wants to say something.

"I have no idea what gun you're talking about."

Bruce is not giving out any information until he knows Alan knows. And even then, he may not give it out.

"Alan, I really don't feel great - "

This is true, he does not feel great at all. But since when would Bruce Wayne acknowledge that. Perhaps this situation has weakened him, made him vulnerable.

"We're just going to sign the papers and we can do this later."

Nope, he's just trying to manipulate Alan into focusing on what Bruce wants to focus on.

[alan_shore]

There's something--despite their grim surroundings, despite the stakes, despite the woman who bled to death on the floor of her apartment five days ago--there's something so juvenile about the way Bruce ventures to the very brink of saying something constructive, and then retreats. Leaving Alan feeling like a fool for having entertained the slightest bit of hope.

"No?" Alan raises his eyebrows. "Because you own such a vast quantity of firearms, is that it?"

He has no intention of discussing the papers, not until Bruce has offered him something in the way of explanation. This is, yes, partly strategic--the contracts seem to be the primary reason Bruce is willing to tolerate Alan's presence at all--and partly sheer two-can-play-at-this-game pettiness.

[manorly_wayne]

Juvenile.

Bruce really couldn't stand to be considered juvenile, not sincerely, not unless it was the part of a carefully controlled performance.

Though, if the shoe fits - or the illegally aquired firearm - then you wear it.

"I don't own a vast quantity of firearms."

Bruce Wayne, who in spite of the political flack involved is an avid advocate for gun control, an enthusiastic representative of victims rights - the damage this entire mess is going to do - he can't stand it.

Mess.

Vesper Fairchild isn't a mess. She's a person.

The look on his face isn't so blank or controlled now. The look on his face clearly says he can't stand this.

"This isn't a game, Alan

[alan_shore]

Something resembling a straight answer. Alan doesn't know whether to be grateful or suspicious. "Then why buy this one? Why...bribe a police officer?"

Try as he might, he can't imagine it. Bruce is all charm and flash (and underneath that a needling wit, a talent for provocation). He's not the type to transact business in dark alleys--not the type to jeopardize his manicure, never mind dirty his hands.

"I'm glad you realize that." All this time Alan's been waiting for, attempting to prod Bruce into some display of emotion, and when it comes his first instinct is to look away.

He meets his client's eyes. "You're up on murder charges and you're worried about shareholders. What about your future? Where does that figure into things?"

[manorly_wayne]

"That's very personal."

The future. Bruce can talk about that in broad terms - a new public transportation system for Gotham City, No flying cars - or in humourous terms - he'll be a bachelor till he's 135 - but when it comes to actually considering a real and concrete future for himself -

He can't do it.

He hasn't been able to do it for a long time.

When he was a child, perhaps, he'd imagine it. Or for a moment, a brief moment, a year, two or three, when he was older, he looked into a future where he imagined himself, his wife, their father - a family.

But you grow out of the fairytales - you realise how contrived they are. You realise how manipulative they are.

And now he looks forward only as far as the next crime to solve and the next fight to survive.

"There are more important things in the world than Bruce Wayne, Alan."

[alan_shore]

"You're going to be asked some very personal questions over the course of these proceedings. Might as well get used to it."

The next statement stops him cold. They're the words of a man condemned, a man resigned to his fate, not somebody prepared to put up a fight. For a moment Alan stares--at Bruce, technically, although the other man's features don't register--and then he nods, slowly, and recovers his voice.

"Are they things worth dying for?"