This is Alan Shore returning your call [for manorly_wayne]
“Alan.”
Alan’s had a newspaper-a-day habit for as long as he cares to remember; since Bruce’s arrest he’s upped it to two, but neither Globe is quite so informative as the timbre of Denny’s voice. Today he sounds jovial, congratulatory. Alan’s name is transformed into a two-syllable slap on the back.
( 'I had nothing to do with it,' Alan says. )
Alan’s had a newspaper-a-day habit for as long as he cares to remember; since Bruce’s arrest he’s upped it to two, but neither Globe is quite so informative as the timbre of Denny’s voice. Today he sounds jovial, congratulatory. Alan’s name is transformed into a two-syllable slap on the back.
( 'I had nothing to do with it,' Alan says. )
Gotham's still feeling the effects of the night the Scarecrow set an open door policy at the asylum - perhaps half of the inmates who escaped have been recovered (recovered, now there's a euphemism for the ages, if they were recovered the Batman mediates) and the other half, well, not all of them were smart enough to get out of dodge.
One crime regime ends, another ascends. Maroni has replaced Falcone and it's a new world order, some would say Falcone was a working man, he worked and struggled for his ill gotten gains. Maroni is a different beast, he's of the generation that came just after, and felt entitled to all their fathers gains.
People are just people after all. Though staring the Batman in the eye it's easy to forget that.
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"You look taller," he says, taking a step back before he can think to stop himself.
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"I get that a lot."
And there is the voice, with nothing of Wayne's softness, really the voice is so intense as to be completely absurd. Not that it would seem The Batman is aware of the absurdity.
He notices Alan move backwards but he makes no move to close the gap or, alternatively, any move to reassure him. There's no easy smiles here, there's no frivolity.
There's also no surprise.
There's very little at all.
The Batman doesn't look anywhere but at Alan. Straight at him. He knows there is no one else on the roof. This isn't police business.
"What do you need?"
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He'd never given much thought to the Batman's appeal. It seemed self-evident--he was part folk hero, part mascot, part urban legend. Now that Alan stands in his presence, however, he has to concede that perhaps it runs deeper. There's something very powerful about being asked what you need from someone in the position to provide it--not as a favor or a gift but as a matter of course.
He has to remind himself this is Bruce, even if there's no trace of Bruce in the man's bearing or diction. "Is that mechanical?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "It can't be good for your throat."
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There's no promise he'll give it to you, the Batman isn't seeking some perverse affirmation, he doesn't seem interested in idolation or even adoration. He seems perversely disinterested in it, if you judge by the way he operates.
The Batman operates only to do what he believes is right, to fight against "evil" in her basest form.
It is, of course, a childlike mantra, and in fact the entire persona - a bat, a mansized bat - may seem childlike as well, but it is attached to 6'2, 210 lbs of extremely serious man. It has consequences, this halloween all year round, and the scenes that play out are not make believe although they are fantastical.
"What do you need?"
And this time the voice sounds deeper, somehow, and a little more aggressive.
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The entire charade is insulting, predicated as it is on Bruce's ability to lie to everyone around him, to play on their obliviousness and manipulate their emotions.
"I can't believe you're still here," Alan says with a shake of his head. He does not sound idolatrous or adoring.
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"I don't know everything," he says, "but I know enough. I want--either take me into your confidence or discharge me but I cannot and will not continue to stumble blindly around while you..." He throws a hand in the air. It's as good a description as any of Bruce's activities.
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