oo5 ♦ tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away [ location :: various ] [ voice ] [ bruce ]

[behindfirelight]

While constructing his house, Sol's been living mostly at Leila's apartment; most of his belongings are there, for now, and it's where he spends most nights. This has worked out arguably wonderfully in the past few days with the pair of them rarely willing to be too far apart, but the house in the forest is ready (a unique piece of architecture

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voice;

[obscuronoctis]

[nothing for a moment, and then -- distant sound, like something is being knocked over by accident.]

voice;

[behindfirelight]

[ exhaling ]

Whole words before I give up-?

voice;

[obscuronoctis]

[another brief moment of fumbling, then--]

Hi. Sorry. Dropped it.

voice;

[behindfirelight]

No problem. These things are so user-friendly they're useless.

I need to ask a favour- the Rolls with all the space in the back, have you still got that?

[behindfirelight]

As promised, Sol gets on the tram at the nearest station outside the forest and hops off at the nearest outside Wayne Manor; he's tucked the inventory of furniture in the inside pocket of his jacket and Taxon can suck his dick, he's smoking as he gets off the tram at the other end.

He scans for Bruce, zipping his jacket.

[obscuronoctis]

Bruce is only just approaching, looking mildly damp (you try dodging a waterfall) and wearing a not exactly stylish but thankfully not hideous green house sweater. ... Because.

He's also carrying a blowtorch.

"Hey." Apparently it's the afternoon of sullen teenagerisms, though to his credit he doesn't look like he's moping, even if he does still look like he'd rather be sleeping. Or dead.

[behindfirelight]

Surveying Bruce with a trained eye, Sol decides to reserve judgement - but he is going to push a little, sooner or later, because that's just what he does. It's not his most endearing habit, though it does have its uses.

"Afternoon. Very long afternoon, I take it."

[obscuronoctis]

The idea that people might pick at him doesn't occur to Bruce; his social status means people either ask him obvious, obtuse questions that have no basis in reality or leave him to his own, eccentric devices. It's only Alfred that ever bothers, and even then with surgical precision (delicate or fatal, whichever he decides the situation requires).

"It's been a busy week," he all he says, and shrugs minutely. "So, we're looking for a sporting goods store, since I know I didn't see a car dealership anywhere."