take your hatred out on me

[obscuronoctis]

He should probably be doing this in something better than jeans and a black button-up shirt, but-- oh well. Maybe he can rationalize it as training. If he can do this in sneakers, etc etc, and so on. Or maybe Alfred is right across the board, and there's something about the thrill of doing completely insane thing that gets him off and keeps him

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[errantknights]

Dashing about at great heights is something Martel doesn't really do often - he has less need for it now than he ever has in the past - but every now and again he finds himself presented with an opportunity, knows himself capable, and does something purely for the hell of it. That said, he knows his own limitations and that this is not a skill he's honed beyond the necessary (for a fascinating value of 'necessary'), so it's safe to say he's the more cautious of the two.

When he notices that there is someone else up here - and that he recognizes that someone else - he's sitting, actually, balanced on a steel beam as if he hasn't a care in the world.

"I suppose accounting would leave you with a need for a little more excitement in your life," he drawls, instead of a greeting, and with the vague undertone that he never really bought that 'accountant' thing, anyway.

[obscuronoctis]

Bruce isn't surprised to find company up here - the fact that he isn't probably doesn't shock Martel, either. He senses somebody nearby before he hears him, and if there is any surprise, it's that Martel isn't Richard.

Then again - there's only so many people who can sneak up on him. Henri was one of--

That's enough.

"Everyone needs a hobby."

[errantknights]

Enough to go on with. Martel, for his part, is watching him the same way he did in the bar - thoughtfully, quietly, analytical but unchallenging. He's a little amused, too, but it's veiled and blessedly not condescending. (You're not always that lucky with this one, but nobody said he was nice.)

"All work and no play," he agrees, with the sort of mock piety that only comes out of a god-fearing upbringing. "I do hope I'm not interrupting."

[obscuronoctis]

"Not at all."

Sooo, neither of you are going to say what's up and ask what's going on, here? ... Okay, fine. Bruce straightens up halfway to navigate a coil that's growing under his feet, sliding back a bit, as easy as if he was on a solid surface. He watches it for a moment, intrigued by the living metal.

[errantknights]

More often than not, he uses moments like these to remark on parts of the nexus he's familiar with - bothering people and making himself useful at the same time is its own kind of entertainment - but this is as new to him as it is to Bruce, so it's the observer role as before. Questions are probably inevitable; something about Bruce rings familiar in a way that he has yet to quite pin down. Close enough to be interesting.

Much like their surroundings, actually; Martel pushes himself to his feet before he finds he's been unseated by its slow, implacable progress.

"It'd make an interesting training exercise," he says, apropos of nothing, and steps left.

[obscuronoctis]

"For your mercenaries?" He's observant, this one. Bruce deflects the unsettled feeling that arises when Martel remarks about training like a pro, and stands up the rest of the walk, walking along the looping wire-beam.

[errantknights]

Since they're having a conversation, Martel's path takes him if not with Bruce then sort of around him; this is its own kind of 'unsettling', but there's a difference between going out of your way to bother someone and just habitually being sort of like that.

"Indeed. Or for myself, come to that; I might wait until the boys are a little less wet behind the ears before I hurl them from great heights."

[obscuronoctis]

Bruce's reaction to being circled is nearly subconscious - he stops walking and lets the structure move him as it does, watching Martel. It isn't a warning, just some little footnote of his own conditioning deciding it's best if he keeps the other man where he can see him.

"That's very gallant of you."

[errantknights]

It usually is a good idea to keep Martel in sight, if only on principle. He's a little distracted, himself - maybe he's doing this instead of thinking about something else.

"Gallant?" he half-laughs. "I'd call it 'practical', myself."

[obscuronoctis]

"I wouldn't know."

And he's not going to. You hear him, pack of spontaneous teenagers? He's not going to.

Moving on - Bruce doesn't react to the laughter, watching him with an almost absent gaze, like he's either too tired of people to engage himself further, or it's just easier to fake.

[errantknights]

In fairness, it's a quiet sort of amusement - private, almost, but not quite. Like Bruce told the punchline to a joke Martel'd heard a month ago, or something like that.

"One doesn't undermine one's pupils; know their limits as well as you know your own. Ideally they'll surpass you, in time."

His might not, but Martel has a headstart, a terrifying work ethic, and an inability to age. Traditional expectations in the teacher/student dynamic don't always apply. He doesn't seem to mind Bruce's distance, regardless, just offers the words up and keeps moving.

This is an interesting exercise, in and of itself, like playing two games at once.

[obscuronoctis]

The stillness in Bruce shifts from something calm to guarded and ready, though his stance and expression haven't changed at all; it's a change in the air, almost - surely Martel will recognize it.

He doesn't speak.

(That would be a nerve you hit, sir.)

[errantknights]

Ah - yes. Yes, he does, and Martel lets himself be carried for a moment by the track of the metal underneath him; it puts his back to Bruce when he speaks, but anything that can be read into that is mostly symbolic where they are. (Symbolism is not unimportant.)

"I didn't think you were an accountant," is what he puts into that silence, not unkindly.

[obscuronoctis]

With barely a whisper of cloth moving, Bruce grabs something that passes by overhead and pulls himself onto it, effortless, and lets himself be carried around Martel. He's sitting, now, but raised above him despite it.

"Does anyone?" He knows his cover is bad. But most people will never question a stranger.

[errantknights]

The stance that Martel falls into is that of a lecturer - a teacher, a mentor, the patient tutor who waits for you to see that you already know. It might be habitual, but it's an interesting edge to the dynamic of motion.

"Not anyone with a functioning mind," which he is not quite generous enough to assume is everyone, certainly not everyone in the nexus. "Most of them will fill the blanks with a story of their own. One that best suits what they can understand of what they see."

Knowing that - and consistently taking advantage of it himself - he's wary of making any of his own assumptions about Bruce. And yet.

[obscuronoctis]

It is very difficult to discern any reaction from Bruce because of how subtle it is, but to those who can tell: he reacts badly to the mentor persona that Martel is affecting.

Silence again, though by this time Bruce is in front of him. His expression is both suspicious and skeptical.