The man formerly known as Bruce Wayne glanced at the monitor showing the current view of Earth from the moon, considering the sum total of information imparted on him and the rest since they'd all shown up in a confusing mess of people funneled swiftly out of a small, confined room into an equally narrow hall. This was the first room that opened up into a manageable space, a mixture of those who looked hopeful among the ones who looked confused and lost. He'd been taking in what he could of the situation, improbable and ridiculous as it was.
If this was due to some mass hallucinogen, then he wondered that so many were acting coherently under its influence. The whole of the location felt industrialized, and on the whole it was more believable that they were being held in some industrial complex, though the predominance of English speaking persons was suspect. The few with fairly radical appearances were something else to consider -- Bruce was almost certain he'd seen a woman completely in green, which was either a dedication to make-up or an extreme and unfortunate trick in lighting.
The empty tea cup in his hand, Bruce continued to observe the room, letting his expression fall into something of concern and disbelief. Shock, in a sense. Any sane person would be in shock if this was true, and as far as he could tell, for as ridiculous as it was, he wasn't currently operating under the influence of something identifiable. He felt in control, and the ache in his leg was a sort of comfortable reminder that he hadn't escaped his usual state of being.
If the thought was one that made him half smile, eyes glancing down to the empty cup as he listened to what people said in the crowd around him, he had to be amused at what that state of being counted as. He'd left Gotham behind to heal, and to find a life in the world. Selina had been pleasant, usually amusing company, someone also set on her own reinvention away from what Gotham had allowed her to make herself into. There was no sign of Selina here. He wasn't surprised.
Leaning on his cane, more for show than necessity on most days, Bruce considered what he was going to choose to believe and what he wouldn't, though he knew that would be a matter of observation and deduction on his own. Disbelief was strongest in those who'd been ushered here, where something more like resignation and hope echoed through those who'd already been waiting.
Time travel, dimension travel, a moon base, a promise to get back to Earth.
"They couldn't have arranged this for after coffee?" He asked, eyes coming up to focus on the person stopped next to him, scanning the crowd. "Feels silly to be standing here with the cup, and nothing in it." Considering the robe he wore, casual sleepwear underneath, and how he had the morning newspaper tucked up under one arm in addition to the teacup and his cane, the joke slid right into place. An interrupted breakfast. An interrupted life.
He would keep learning, and keep his eyes and ears open. Whatever the truth or actuality of this situation, the knowing came with doing.
Bruce Wayne | OTA
If this was due to some mass hallucinogen, then he wondered that so many were acting coherently under its influence. The whole of the location felt industrialized, and on the whole it was more believable that they were being held in some industrial complex, though the predominance of English speaking persons was suspect. The few with fairly radical appearances were something else to consider -- Bruce was almost certain he'd seen a woman completely in green, which was either a dedication to make-up or an extreme and unfortunate trick in lighting.
The empty tea cup in his hand, Bruce continued to observe the room, letting his expression fall into something of concern and disbelief. Shock, in a sense. Any sane person would be in shock if this was true, and as far as he could tell, for as ridiculous as it was, he wasn't currently operating under the influence of something identifiable. He felt in control, and the ache in his leg was a sort of comfortable reminder that he hadn't escaped his usual state of being.
If the thought was one that made him half smile, eyes glancing down to the empty cup as he listened to what people said in the crowd around him, he had to be amused at what that state of being counted as. He'd left Gotham behind to heal, and to find a life in the world. Selina had been pleasant, usually amusing company, someone also set on her own reinvention away from what Gotham had allowed her to make herself into. There was no sign of Selina here. He wasn't surprised.
Leaning on his cane, more for show than necessity on most days, Bruce considered what he was going to choose to believe and what he wouldn't, though he knew that would be a matter of observation and deduction on his own. Disbelief was strongest in those who'd been ushered here, where something more like resignation and hope echoed through those who'd already been waiting.
Time travel, dimension travel, a moon base, a promise to get back to Earth.
"They couldn't have arranged this for after coffee?" He asked, eyes coming up to focus on the person stopped next to him, scanning the crowd. "Feels silly to be standing here with the cup, and nothing in it." Considering the robe he wore, casual sleepwear underneath, and how he had the morning newspaper tucked up under one arm in addition to the teacup and his cane, the joke slid right into place. An interrupted breakfast. An interrupted life.
He would keep learning, and keep his eyes and ears open. Whatever the truth or actuality of this situation, the knowing came with doing.