[It's accidentally video, because he fumbled so fast for it that he hits it, but then he stops and stares, because it's Bruce, and goes completely pale because it's Bruce, and his glasses are on wonky and he just doesn't move, like a rabbit in headlights.
It takes everything for his voice not to crack, and he squeaks into the video:]
YOU IDIOT THIS IS PUBLIC!
[And shuts off the video feed as fast as he can.
Dead. Dead, dead, Bruce is dead and this... This isn't him, this is just a recorded message. This is a decoy. And Bruce is dead, he's never going to do this over the network ever again--not if he doesn't come back.
He tries to think of the lion; the warmth of Aslan. He tries to focus on how strong he has to be, but he's breaking down now. It's been three days almost and the grief is suddenly completely crippling. It bears down on him with a weight he hadn't expected.
[about twenty minutes later, voice;]isitablurredOctober 9 2011, 17:14:09 UTC
[The silence is deafening. The cut line, and Clark knows it's supposed to be a filter. He pretends they've had a conversation, and then he posts back to the network, back in public:]
Since he refuses to come on and apologise for being a ridiculous prat I thought I'd do it for him. Bruce Wayne the Idiot is sorry for wasting all of your time, aren't you, Bruce?
[This is where superspeed makes life easy. He crosses the room, makes a grumbling sound of discord, then is back to speak to the microphone a moment later.]
Or not, apparently. I apologise, at least. [Muttered as he turns off:] Idiot.
[This is the worst hour of his life, Re-l. The WORST.]
Fun and--I left some laundry, that's all!
[But for Re-l the pieces should all be fitting together now. Batman is Bruce Wayne, the shield burned into his chest, Clark stringing things along when it's a certainty that Bruce is dead.]
[She's always wondered why the shield's been there but with Clark covering up the secret... Either he's walking in on a morbid surprise or he already knows, and she has a feeling it's the latter.]
What's wrong with calling it laundry if it's laundry? Besides which he makes me do all his anyway, so it's not like I was going to forget about it any time soon.
Pro tip, Re-l. If he ever offers to cook for you, don't accept.
[offline] [1/2]unmantledOctober 9 2011, 18:14:05 UTC
[ He knew it. He knew it he knew it he knew it. He's halfway to the voice function on his NV, halfway to bruce it's me it's me when... oh right he's not a ward anymore, is he. He can't talk to Bruce, can't know Bruce as long as they're here. But that's okay, he'll run. He'll run and he'll get there first and Superman'll see how wrong he was. Forget shoes, he's tracing that message and going. ]
[offline/text;] [2/2]unmantledOctober 9 2011, 18:47:22 UTC
[ Maybe it's a hideout. He wouldn't link it to his place for real, it'd have to be a hideout. Either way he can't be seen here, which in civvies is a little more challenging. He circles the apartment building from the roof three times. It's his. It has to be his. Doesn't it?
It only takes him an hour to run out of patience. He has to know, has to know right now. In untraceable text: ]
Comments 129
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It takes everything for his voice not to crack, and he squeaks into the video:]
YOU IDIOT THIS IS PUBLIC!
[And shuts off the video feed as fast as he can.
Dead. Dead, dead, Bruce is dead and this... This isn't him, this is just a recorded message. This is a decoy. And Bruce is dead, he's never going to do this over the network ever again--not if he doesn't come back.
He tries to think of the lion; the warmth of Aslan. He tries to focus on how strong he has to be, but he's breaking down now. It's been three days almost and the grief is suddenly completely crippling. It bears down on him with a weight he hadn't expected.
Bruce is dead.
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No, it's not- oh. Hey.
Well, uh. [ FILTER. Supposedly.
Except it's a cut. ]
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Since he refuses to come on and apologise for being a ridiculous prat I thought I'd do it for him. Bruce Wayne the Idiot is sorry for wasting all of your time, aren't you, Bruce?
[This is where superspeed makes life easy. He crosses the room, makes a grumbling sound of discord, then is back to speak to the microphone a moment later.]
Or not, apparently. I apologise, at least. [Muttered as he turns off:] Idiot.
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How notably awkward.
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Yeah, for me. Because you just know he gets a kick out of airing my dirty laundry in public.
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But my, don't you two -- [Beat.] Look friendly?
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[Bruce Wayne if you ever come back he will make you regret it. Clark deliberately overcompensates.]
Things have been a little uncomfortable with Lois recently and I-- That's all, I swear. One couch is pretty much the same as any another!
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Bruce, you should be at your desk, not inviting your boyfriend over for fun and games.
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Fun and--I left some laundry, that's all!
[But for Re-l the pieces should all be fitting together now. Batman is Bruce Wayne, the shield burned into his chest, Clark stringing things along when it's a certainty that Bruce is dead.]
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[She's always wondered why the shield's been there but with Clark covering up the secret... Either he's walking in on a morbid surprise or he already knows, and she has a feeling it's the latter.]
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Pro tip, Re-l. If he ever offers to cook for you, don't accept.
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It only takes him an hour to run out of patience. He has to know, has to know right now. In untraceable text: ]
can't do it yourself?
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...Where is he?
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