13936/A Time for Talking

A Time for Talking
Date of Scene:	22 January 2023
Location:	Library - Wayne Manor
Synopsis:	What started out as a check-in turns into something a little deeper. Phoebe slightly questions her place in the Waynes and in the Bat Family, and Bruce assures her that she not only is welcome, but belongs. Now if she just stopped kicking people in the head for threatening Alfred...?
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Bruce Wayne

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Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The Library was one of Phoebe's very favorite places in all of Gotham City; there was just something comforting about being surrounded by the smell of old leather, vanilla pages of old books and their bindings, and the sweetness of the dark wood. Generally when she wasn't out in the woods surrounding the manor or hiding between the topiaries on the second floor landing (probably kept there by Alfred for Phoebe hiding purposes), she could be found here, absorbed in research and occasionally consuming Alfred's baked goods.

    Today she was doing neither.
A
    She was upside-down in one of the wingback chairs, her head on an ottoman, her legs off to one side, a leather-bound book covering her face as if she were trying to absorb its secrets by osmosis. She was wearing a pair of broken-in jeans, socks with tiny little poodles and the script "SO FANCY" on them in pink and yellow, a Gotham Rogues T-shirt showing the baseball team's insignia and a worn in sweatshirt that had a couple of bleach spots on the bottom.

    Idu was sprawled out on her stomach wearing a blue dog hoodie, ears flicking.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Even in loafers Bruce could walk rather silently when he wanted to. Honestly it was his default state. Loud foosteps were when he was 'Brucey' or otherwise in public and having to put on the persona of a veritable bull in a china shop. It's silently he enters, and almost as silently as the cup of coffee down on the side table beside her. There's a quiet little clink as the saucer beneath it shifts slightly to tap down in it's new resting spot. That small sound along with the smell of recently brewed coffee were the only indications that she wasn't alone in the room any longer.

Bruce for his part stands nearby still grasping his own cup of coffee which he sips from while waiting for Phoebe to show signs of stirring. He's dressed in loafers, slacks, and a button up shirt that was tucked in. Clear signs of preparing to go to the office or having recently returned from it.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    You can be silent to the human ears, but the nose knows. In this case, Idu's head comes up as Bruce walks in, and he gives a tail wag before stretching out his long legs and sliding down and off Phoebe's stomach to investigate the coffee cup, and then investigate if Bruce has any hidden treat pouches.

    In combination with the smell of coffee and the sudden movement of Idu, Phoebe does stir. She gives a quiet 'Nnn?' sound, raising the book off her face as she squints.

    And then she swings herself to sitting upright -- mostly She's at least right-side up, but still 'perched' with her heels on the cushion of the chair, and she gives an awkward smile to Bruce.

    "Good morning, Boss." she greets him tiredly, and then takes the coffee cup into her hands, letting it warm her palms.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Bruce Wayne reaches out to greet Idu with a good, solid scruffing between his ears. Behind the ears. He's pretty thorough in the petting even though he acts as if he wasn't really paying much attention to the pup while watching Phoebe work on waking herself. "Good morning." A little lift of his coffee mug is given in salute as she takes up the one he'd brought her.

"I feel as if I ought to warn you against sleeping in that position. I'm one to talk, though." How often was he caught sleeping upright by Alfred? Many. Too many.

To Idu he finally remarks, "No treats on me today, Idu, sorry." He didn't need to be smelling of snausages at the official job.

"How are you doing, Phoebe?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Idu appears to give a grumble, and goes to investigate if any of the other batkids might have left anything behind, snuffing along the wall. Honestly and truly he's a well maintained doggo. A real leggy boi.

    "Pretty sure Alfred has told me to not sit upside-down while reading something." Phoebe states as she takes a sip of the coffee, and gives a mumbled 'Thank you' to Bruce in regards to it.

    And then she's asked how she's doing. She mentally runs a checklist, staring out into space a moment.

    "Finished my final in introduction to ethics with a ninety-three percent which brought my grade in the class to ninety five. Aced the midterm on my Intro to Psych and passed Statistics," with Tim's help probably. "Broke up three muggings last night, four the night before, two last week where someone actually tried to mug me in armor. What *is* it with people?" she blinks a moment, and sips her coffee again, and then she looks down.

    "Alfred gave me a driving lesson and I kinda kicked a jaywalker in the head when he threatened Alfred."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
The tally of feats is absorbed even though Bruce already knew full well what her night time activities had brought about. The grades are met with a nod of acceptance and a simple remark of, "Excellent work." Ethics though? That's mulled over between sips of coffee.

Right up until she mentions kicking a jaywalker.

There's a little choking noise as he forces himself to swallow the coffee that had almost come back up. Neither Bruce nor Batman would spit-take. A few solid clearings of his throat come instead of outright coughing. It does make his voice a little extra rumbly when he next speaks.

"I'm sure Alfred appreciated that. Is the jaywalker all right?" He's already running through the thought of paying off medical bills if necessary. If Alfred hadn't already handled it of course.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "He's fine, he was stunned by a girl coming over the roof of a Mercedes Benz to kick him in the head. Just hard enough to turn him to the side and disorientate him." she replies with a small rub to the back of her head.

    "Alfred said he'd handle the fall out, and I had to ride in the back seat on the way h-- back here." she quickly corrects herself, and she breathes out. She taps her fingers against the coffee cup again.

    "I also... uh... ran into Constantine the other night."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Bruce Wayne is torn. On the one hand it's Alfred she was defending. On the other hand. "I appreciate that you want to look out for Alfred. You need to learn to control your emotions a bit, however. We're not bullies." Not to the average citizen who was just being a jerk at least. A long sigh is exhaled as he doesn't push further on that. He was her 'boss' and not father after all in spite of the adoption process. She didn't need another father figure failing her.

Mention of Constantine draws his gaze back to her locking on to her face to examine every minute movement, or lack thereof, she might make to guage her emotions. "Oh?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The whole boss thing was to separate herself. She still referred to Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian as her brothers. Alfred wasn't referred to as her butler, or Bruce's butler, but a guardian. And Bruce was, at least, usually referred to as Bruce. If not his Alter-Ego where Himbo CEO Bruce Wayne might not be the appropriate intimidating factor to get someone to back off.

    As much as she didn't want to refer to him as a parental figure, Bruce did have that authority. And the disappointment with that sigh is noted, with Phoebe curling herself up a bit more. She's aware that Bruce is now paying careful attention, and she's trying to measure her own reactions.

    Though her fingers squeeze tighter around the coffee cup. Her eyebrows twitch, drawing down. She's not looking at him.

    She's examining her reflection in the cup of coffee.

    "He said Meggan was getting antsy about the thing wearing his face. Offered me the chance to be on the hunting party, as it were."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Bruce Wayne winces inwardly at that little curl in on herself that comes after his sigh. This was worse than when dealing with Jason when he was younger. Everything gained a reaction but in her case it wasn't anger. At least not toward HIM. That he could handle.

A step is taken closer so that he can crouch down in front of the chair she inhabits to be on eye level with her. Much as he could be, even crouched he still had some height to him. It was what he could do with what he had.

"Phoebe." The name is said calmly without any anger behind it. It was just to try and pull her from her inability to look at him.

"I--" Cautiously he begins. "Would prefer you didn't. I think that would make things very difficult for you in many ways. I know the Demon Constantine wasn't who you thought. That doesn't change the fact that, for you, he was someone important in your life."

"Would you be able to harm him if it came down to it?"

His hand lifts to reach out and hesitate. Instead of resting on her leg or arm as was his instinct he rests it on the armrest of the chair. Close but not touching.

"I'd like you to think about that before you make a decision on whether or not to join in going against him. If it's something you need to do for closure-- I can understand that." Of course he could. There were always times you needed to do things to find peace in your life, he knew that well. "I'm more concerned about you reopening old wounds and making them worse for yourself. We don't kill."

"When it comes to demons that's usually the only choice." Maybe that was partially why he opted out of so many supernatural things when he could?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    She couldn't be angry at Bruce. Ten steps in front of everyone else. Always with a plan, and in these moments she was able to see Batman and Bruce at once. Her eyes draw up when he says her name, narrowing, studying him. Trying to find lies and half-truths or buried rage and anger at her that might come out. And she doesn't find that; his was concern.

    "... I don't know." was her response. "I have questions that I thought I put to rest, accepting that I'd never get an answer." she brings one hand up, and she touches the front of her throat where her wide choker necklace hid three laceration scars, her left hand with that pale circle tattooed around her wrist, rendered in delicate and perfect lines by her 'adopted father'.

    But it was the 'we don't kill' statement that made her physically wince, and her hand returns to her coffee cup.

    "... I have." she admits softly. "Demons you can send back to Hell. They're stupid difficult to destroy, you need to use something like the Camdever Curse, sacrifice something of Great Importance, like what'd you need to power a spell to destroy a Soul to the point of uselessness. That would be the goal, destroy the physical body, bind the demon, return it from whence it came. I think." she looks up to Bruce.

    "I thought he loved me." she whispers, "Demons don't love, they covet. They possess. They like to *hurt*. And I was so wrapped up in losing what I thought was 'my grownup' that I almost lost what really mattered." she mutters quietly.

    And she brings her hand up to wipe at her eyes.

    "I get the feeling Tim would say the same thing. That I should stay the heck away from the whole situation. I mean, that's why I'm still here, right? Because I'm not ready for the whole out there? Because I could end up hurting myself, or Tim again."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"I know." It's said with a grave tone as she speaks. To what part he was answering was hard to tell though. He keeps his sharp blue eyed gaze on her unwavering at all she reveals as he knows she was expecting some sort of judgement from him.

There's so much he could say. So much more he's not sure he should say. His lips grip together in what might seem a scowl while he remains there thinking. Quiet. Listening.

Then the words come out, strong, confident, and clear.

"YOU do not need to be that sacrifice, Phoebe."

"You've done enough. It's okay to rest. It's okay to be hurt. It's okay to not give any more of yourself in this matter." He draws a breath while squaring his shoulders. "You have no idea how many times Alfred, and Dick, have had to beat that message into my own head."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe's eyes draw a little more open, and she turns, slowly, to look up at Bruce. Her mouth opens, and then closes, and then she gets very quiet, as if that was a brand new concept. It wasn't. It was something that was repeatedly said to her by so many people.

    "... I don't want to lose any other people I love." she whispers, and then she squeezes her eyes shut. "I almost lost my family again. I don't want it to keep happening over and over." she whispers, and she leans forward, and then... just very carefully, puts her head on Bruce's shoulder.

    "I want to stay."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Bruce Wayne doesn't move when he leans in to rest her head on his shoulder. It wasn't often she made moves for touch. He tried to respect that. It worked because he wasn't great at gestures of familiarity in that manner himself. He had moments where he knew that was the right thing. This felt like one of them.

The hand that lay on the armrest moves up to wrap around her shoulders pulling her into a firm hug against him. One that he's willing to release as soon as necesssary. There's no hesitation or awkwardness though; just a firm, warm hug, and his head tips down to tuck his chin ontop of her head.

"This is your home, Phoebe. For as long as you need it to be."