Oh, sure. [He taps ash off the tip of the cigarette, pointedly.] About as healthy as hopping around on rooftops and gunning down gangsters gets to be.
[Come on, now.
It’s not good for him, especially in his line of work. Sometimes that’s kind of the point. (That if he’s going to get hurt, if his life is going to get cut short, at least it’s him that’s choosing to do it.) Still, he only really falls back on it on bad days—a comfort thing, or a control thing, or both.
It’s also an outside thing, apparently, because he scowls back out at Prime and then stubs out the end of the cigarette on the brick outside the window before he does anything else. The offered cup is greeted mostly with narrowing of his eyes. (In annoyance, or suspicion, or the fact that Prime has decided to Very Cinematically backlight himself against the sun, and he’s still shaking off the dull ache behind his eyes that he woke up with.)
Rather than reach for the tea, he ducks his head and pushes himself up and away from the window, like he’s making space.]
Get in here before someone sees you. Christ.
[As much as there is kind of some ironic appeal to knowing it’ll get under Batman’s skin to have Prime swinging around in his city under his nose and having tea with the family black sheep, he doesn’t need the headache that’ll come with it, thanks. (At least save the suspicion for when he’s actually up to something, huh, Bruce.)]
no subject
Oh, sure. [He taps ash off the tip of the cigarette, pointedly.] About as healthy as hopping around on rooftops and gunning down gangsters gets to be.
[Come on, now.
It’s not good for him, especially in his line of work. Sometimes that’s kind of the point. (That if he’s going to get hurt, if his life is going to get cut short, at least it’s him that’s choosing to do it.) Still, he only really falls back on it on bad days—a comfort thing, or a control thing, or both.
It’s also an outside thing, apparently, because he scowls back out at Prime and then stubs out the end of the cigarette on the brick outside the window before he does anything else. The offered cup is greeted mostly with narrowing of his eyes. (In annoyance, or suspicion, or the fact that Prime has decided to Very Cinematically backlight himself against the sun, and he’s still shaking off the dull ache behind his eyes that he woke up with.)
Rather than reach for the tea, he ducks his head and pushes himself up and away from the window, like he’s making space.]
Get in here before someone sees you. Christ.
[As much as there is kind of some ironic appeal to knowing it’ll get under Batman’s skin to have Prime swinging around in his city under his nose and having tea with the family black sheep, he doesn’t need the headache that’ll come with it, thanks. (At least save the suspicion for when he’s actually up to something, huh, Bruce.)]