Nightshift 36: M-C Block Hallway

[fourtharcana]

[from here]

The second hallway was at least better lit than the first, due to the light from some others' flashlights. So it's not the Dark Hour. That still didn't provide much of an explanation as to where he had awakened, though

Comments

[deadlyjuliet]

Parties? A socialite? Well, what a development. If this man ran in the right circles, he might have overheard bits about the little incidents over in Whitechapel. Even abroad, he'd heard that the murders had made the headlines. Grell had been so proud of the Madam when he heard that, but then...such ill-fitting end to what could have been a beautiful life. It was too depressing to think about that, though, so he ignored it in favor of this new bit of entertainment right in front of him.

He was new, which was less helpful than Grell would have liked, but the more he spoke, the more he was able to place his accent. "An American? The only parties I've been to are of the English variety - and not in the capacity I'd like. The hired help can't exactly dance with the earls and ladies, can they now." And as for the uniforms... "Oh, yes! These uniforms are just atrocious! The color, the material, the absolute lack of form!" Pressing a hand to his chest, he gestured wide with the other. "It's like this place is trying to break out spirits!" His voice echoed down the hall and he sighed, shrugging before dropping his hand to his hip. "But a good man can make any outfit look amazing, don't you think? So what's your name?"

[gothamnight]

That he was English was evident enough from the accent, and from the notes it seemed to be more urban than rural. London?

Well, it seemed the stranger was also connected to a family of wealth, so it was possible that the perpetrator might simply be targeting the wealthy and upper-class. And yet, judging from how the postures and mannerisms of the other individuals walking in the halls, such a theory was still unlikely. After all, if it was only money the kidnapper wanted, there were other ways to get it that didn't involve such an elaborate prison. It took time...time and something else to be able to capture such a large quantity of people in a single place at a single time. Something else...

...he'd been hesitating to consider magic, and yet increasingly the evidence seemed to be pointing to either that or some sort of new technology he was not familiar with. It wasn't impossible, as the Batman knew well from his encounters with Jason Blood. But he'd need more information.

...well, no sense in abandoning ready company. Regardless of how much this stranger knew, he was still another person, and it might be better for Bruce Wayne to have company with him. Solitary individuals stuck out like targets in the hallways, and though Bruce didn't know precisely what sort of dangers lay ahead, he could prepare.

"Hired help? Are you sure?" The surprise wasn't feigned, though the almost playful smile was.

"You're not much like the maids back at home, but it's been awhile since I've been to England," he said lightly, "My butler's English, though."

He grinned a bit at the compliment and at the red-head's melodramatic assertion about the uniform, noting to himself a bit resignedly that if he'd wanted stealth during his explorations, he'd probably found the wrong person.

"Bruce Wayne. And you are...?"

[deadlyjuliet]

"Oh, yes. A very lovely woman hired me for awhile, but unfortunately, my contract was terminated with her...untimely end. It was a heartrending affair." And for effect, Grell covered his mouth and looked away as if he were about to cry over it. He did miss the Madam every so often, even if she'd sorely disappointed him in the end and had deserved the death she'd gotten. She'd been so beautiful covered in blood and yet, she wouldn't strike down the boy who would ruin her. And why? She was his relative. Boring. Wiping at tears that weren't really there, Grell perked up at the mention of a butler.

So he was one of those types. How interesting. And with an English butler. He'd never heard of a Englishman crossing to America to be a butler. Bruce Wayne must have been a ridiculously wealthy man, and even though money didn't dazzle him as much as it would another lady, he still found it worthy of note.

"Madam wasn't a typical madam either, so I suppose we fit each other very well. We both so loved the same things." Grell couldn't help but wonder if this man's butler would be at all as interesting as Sebas-chan had been, but somehow, he doubted it. Although Bruce was gorgeous, he was human and had no marks on him of the supernatural that Grell could pick up right now. Even with his powers sealed, he could pick up on that - it was second nature. "Grell Sutcliffe. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wayne."

[gothamnight]

"Please, call me Bruce," he said without missing a beat, smile charming.

No recognition of the name "Bruce Wayne," and though Bruce had considered employing an alias, it was pointless if those who'd captured them already knew who he was. He couldn't determine anything precise from the fact that Grell didn't seem to recognize "Bruce Wayne"--after all, while Wayne Enterprises and its subsidiaries had a large presence in most of the European continent (including the UK), it wasn't unusual for someone not to recognize the owner. After all, not everyone was interested in trashy socialite gossip.

His smile faltered a bit when he saw Grell wiping away tears. Untimely end, was it? Now, while it was in the nature of his work to be suspicious, it wasn't for that reason that the phrase caught Bruce's attention. No, it was...the manner in which Grell had said it. Melodrama aside, there was something insincere about the other man's expression and commentary. Then again, maybe he was overthinking it.

"Hey, hey...there's no need to get upset about it. It wasn't your fault she died, right?" Placing a hand gently on Grell's shoulder, Bruce added, "...come now. Keep it up and you'll have me breaking a new record. This is the first time I've made a lady cry on our first night."

[deadlyjuliet]

Americans were so informal. Grell wouldn't dare call any of the upper elite by their first names when he was masquerading as a butler and he was certainly doing that now. Perhaps he should keep up the charade? It was hard though, with someone so charming standing right there. Charming men usually had such beautiful Records and now Grell wished he had his scythe, just for a little peek into Bruce's world.

"It wouldn't do, Mr. Wayne, to call you by your first name. Not until we know each other a little better." That was a good answer. A proper answer. The kind of answer a butler would give, perhaps. Not that he ever called Madam Red by any other name than Madam, no matter how well they had gotten to know each other. No matter how many nights they spent together, alone together in the same room while he watched her carve into her victims like a female Michelangelo carving those ugly women into true masterpieces. Her radiance after the fact, drenched in that unworthy blood, was unforgetable and for once, Grell did feel sad.

He'd never again see her like that. Such a beautiful woman, given over to death because she had turned out to be just like the ones she carved. She'd been dragged down by human emotion. Stupid. It wasn't his fault she was dead - it was that little brat Earl Phantomhive's fault. "...no, it wasn't my fault. It was...his fault she was killed." He put just the right amount of grief and anger into his words - because for once, they were genuine - and then sighed heavily. Bruce was a charmer alright and Grell gave him a little smile, just for effect, when he put a hand on his shoulder. One day, he'd be ripping that hand off Bruce's arm and then Bruce would see how brilliant Grell's real smile could be. "My apologies, Mr. Wayne. It's just that it happened so recently and I'm still not over the shock."

But they couldn't dally in the hallway all night. Grell was still eager to see where the hell Will was hiding and ask him how long he had to keep up this stupid 'human' act before he was allowed to go back to work. "Let's keep going, hm? Maybe it'll take my mind off that dreadful incident."

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