close your eyes and count to ten

[obscuronoctis]

It's not a bad idea to bring people from the Nexus home, but it's probably not a good one, exactly, either. Bruce is not a believer in the impact of a butterfly's wings in Africa (though perhaps he should be). But this is a harmless social ploy, nothing jarring, nothing dangerous, nothing pivotal. He doesn't trust the world to behave for a few

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[oleanderknife]

"So that was new," she says, after a pause of holy fuck, pinpointing, but she shakes it off cheerfully and quickly.

She looks around the study, not bothering to hide it - she's always like this in new places, though, taking in every detail she can find. The brief vacation from her own world is a welcome one, especially considering how weird things have been back home lately.

[obscuronoctis]

"It's easier than sneaking in and out of doors, for me," he tells her - the door he found was in the charred catacombs beneath Wayne Manor, but she doesn't need to know that or heaven forbid, see that. He slides the device into his jacket pocket and goes to unlock the door, holding it open for her out of habit.

There hallway outside is rich colored with rose marble flooring, leading to an expansive area that constitutes a living room; the walls are windows, and the view is of the entire city.

"Welcome to Gotham," he murmurs.

[oleanderknife]

Nice place, she notes, absently, which- how can you not. Even when things aren't wholly to her weird artsy tastes, Hasi believes you have to respect beautiful things when you find them. And Gotham itself is something she's never seen before, with one hell of a skyline - she looks out over the cityscape, through the window, just barely refraining from childishly touching her fingertips to the glass to peer out that way.

"It's like a painting," she says, tipping her head to the side.

[obscuronoctis]

It's obvious just by looking why he finds New York's city-appeal to be shallow in comparison - Gotham is not only home, it's an addiction. He smiles a little, ironic. "It's very old."

Bruce stands behind her and points to the east, at something just barely beyond their scope of vision. "We'll be driving that way," he explains. "Only part of the city is like this - the outskirts are very green, and the roads have fewer stoplights."

... And fewer traffic cops.

[oleanderknife]

"And less interference, I take it." She looks over her shoulder, smiling. The last time she played this kind of 'racing around' game she was a kid back in South Carolina, and they used four wheelers and dirt bikes with the intention of getting them really, really muddy.

"Let's go, then."

[obscuronoctis]

He shrugs, as if it's just mere, innocent coincidence there's less restrictions off the main island. Really, Bruce, nobody buys this.

So they go - the elevator takes them all the way down in one bizarrely stable rush, all the way to his private garage (that has a lobby). Therein lies a number of obscenely expensive cars and, yes, the Ferrari California. It's red.

"I've never been one to name cars," he says, opening the passenger door for her, "But I'm considering using Ticket Magnet for this one."

[oleanderknife]

Once they're in Carland, down here, Hasibe turns on her heel and shoots him a vaguely amused look before she gets in the car. "You have a gallery," she comments, "And I think 'Ticket Magnet' is entirely appropriate. It must be the color - so many beat cops are like Spanish bulls, they're drawn to it."

There's a pause. "Although I read yellow cars get in the most accidents. Don't know why."

[obscuronoctis]

Perhaps to her horror, there are two BMWs, a convertible and a bike, along with several other positively stupidly expensive cars. A few of them he doesn't even drive! He's a great employer, just ask Alfred.

"That strikes me as odd," he says, and closes the door once she's in before walking around to hop in the driver's seat. "Considering how few cars in general are yellow." One of his is. >_> "Though maybe it has something to do with the fact that yellow cars tend to be sports cars or Hummers." Is that faint distaste? Probably.

"You have to select what mode you want to drive in," he explains, pointing out the fairly bizarre controls on the center panel. He starts the car and it's immediately clear, oh, this is indeed a luxury vehicle. That can go two hundred miles an hour.

[oleanderknife]

"There definitely does seem to be some kind of asshole draw where Hummers are concerned. I think it's because the car name is an euphemism for oral sex, they never should have done that." ...sometimes she just says things. In the meantime she is eying the control panel interestedly; she is not 100% versed in how it works, but if Bruce is driving first she can pick up from observation and has no qualms about asking the occasional question.

Like so: "And what mode will we be in once we're out of the police radar?"

[obscuronoctis]

He laughs-- sudden, and he sounds half-surprised that he laughed at all. It's short and quiet, but it's still a laugh. "As completely frivolous as my spending habits concerning cars are," he says as he pulls them artfully out of the garage and through the winding catacombs to the street, "I do like the things I buy to function. So Hummers are out."

(Tumblers, however.)

"The top gears," he explains, despite the fact that his typist has no fucking clue how to drive anything besides an automatic. Pretend this is correct. Gotham City in the daylight is charming in its architecture - buildings and skyscrapers piled on top of each other, all crammed in along the ocean. Streets have three, four levels, and above them, the newly repaired railway train zooms by.

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe is pretty openly fascinated; she likes cities, likes new places, and Gotham stylistically is fairly unique in a lot of ways. She observes said railway train from the window, and laughs a little. "Makes Boston seem antiquated, although we're stubborn, so we take a certain amount of pride in that sort of thing."

(She prefers "her" town to New York, too.)

[obscuronoctis]

"Even when this place was young, it was full of people obsessed with building more and more. Some areas are older than others."

People stare; even with Gotham's super-rich population being notably large (thirty million people means there's not too many small populations), it's not every day a car like this zooms by. At a corner, a regularly-posted traffic cop raises a hand in amusing greeting, apparently finding Mr. Wayne a familiar sight. He responds with a wry smile and lifts one hand off the wheel, brief.

"He thinks he's so cool, tagging me for speeding when nobody else is on the road."

Your life is so hard Bruce. Traffic isn't that bad, and he weaves in and out, slowing carefully here and there, as if he's got the shifts of the city's finest memorized. He must go driving a lot.