2012-06-25 Date Night with Wayne, Part 1

So it starts out as an interview, it always starts out as an interview. The Planet calls up Wayne Tech and asks when the CEO will be available, tries to organize some sort of go between with his busy (read: over indulgent) life and in the end, he throws all that to the wayside and just calls Lois directly.
Without anyone giving him her number.
Because he's Bruce Wayne and he can.
Whatever plans the Planet thought they were going to set, he goes around them... Not because he's a particularly difficult man, he's no Tony Stark, but he's in town... So why wait a week when he's here anyways? 'Meet me at 8, wear something nice.' Nice, apparently, is something he decides to take care of for her. As the driver who comes to pick her up is also carrying a package.. in which is a dress.. flown in from Paris this morning.
And it's her size. Exactly.
Again, Bruce Wayne.
The resteraunt, one of the upscale joints in Metropolis, is more or less closed. Except for one table. Not because Bruce minds eating with people, usually he prefers it, but in this particular case.. it's an interview as well, right? So it needs to be quiet. Ergo. Table for one in a three hundred dollar a place resteraunt with a waiting list as long as most monarch constitutions.
Again.... Bruce Wayne.
The call to Wayne Tech was to follow up business things Lois was working on. She asked an intern to maket he call, see how far they'd get, hoping to use that as a distraction while she used her 'I'm going to check out this lead on a mob family from Gotham' card with Perry to fly to Gotham and see if she could pull what she did at Stark Tower and land a pizza and soda date with the Boss. No luck. Her night in Gotham was a bust, safe for some interesting information curtesy of the Bat himself. She returned to Metropolis expecting to find the usual 'we'll set something up'. Instead, it was her cell that rang.
His request for dinner has Lois blinking a bit, but she agrees and makes it a normal work day to get home in time to shower and dress. All the while, still inwardly flustered at all the going-on's lately. Kent's latest Gotham-based article about the mob, when SHE was tracking something down just puts the femme reporter on the offensive. With a smirk as she opens the box the driver had, Lois eagerly goes back into her apartment to change. Maybe this interview will turn into a massive scoop that she can dangle over Applejack's head and gloat about for a few weeks. DAMN! How'd he get her size?
Redressed and looking way more fabulous than she had expected, Lois Lane arrives to teh restaurant, the very one she and Worthington had dined at less than a week ago, and looks around slightly wide eyed. She had an idea what it had taken Warren to get bumped from 'not on the list' to 'has a secluded table'. The emormity of what Wayne most of done to shut the place down for them is.... staggering.
Lois's violet eyes scan about for her interviewee.
Wayne is not yet arrived, which is the beginning stages at which most women worry he might have forgotten them entirely. He does have something of a reputation, though it is hard to tell how much of it is rumor and how much of it is truth. Billioniares play in a completely different sport than most other players, after all.
When he does arrive, it's in a tailored armoni suit cut to near prefection. Not even one of these dime store tailors either, this has the markings and jib of having come straight from Italy. He's got rich people problems.
"Ms Lane." He greets her with that almost teenaged grin of a man with absolutely no concerns in the world, reaching out for her hand as he joins her at the only table set in the entire resteraunt. "I hope you haven't been waiting long. There was a few snags at my meeting.. Thanks for accepting my impromptu invitation."
Fashionably late... That's -supposed- to be a girl thing. Lois hmphs faintly and checks the contents of her purse. Lipstick, girly reenforcements, breath mint, body spray, 9mil - a poke and she confirms that it's got the safety on and a round in the pipe - and her LiveScribe pen. To turn it on or not... She chews at the inside corner of her cheek a moment before opting to show him the pen and ensure permission. Especially if this is an interview. Inventory check complete, Lois sets her purse, a cute little black clutch knock off, on the table and waits. ...and waits.... and...
Lois sits up from her bored stare out a window, day dreaming a different ways Superman is going to apologize to her, as she hears Bruce's voice. She straightens and moves to get to her feet, reaching out to set her hand in his.
"Oh, no. It's fine. I understand completely, Mr. Wayne," she replies, already starting to blush a bit. Wow. He's absolutely... gorgeous. "Thank you for the invitation. I have to admit, I was more than a little surprised."
Business late.. which is sort of Fashionable in this day and age. The burdons of a fortune five hundred company, really. Multinational, if not global. And he wears it all on his shoulders with an easy grin, "Well of course. I was in town." Just that simple.
It's a wonder there's not more stories written about him. Before he sits he moves around to pull her chair out just enough to slip in and push it forward towards the table. "I hope the dress fit? I had to guess your size." Breath pause, long enough to slip into his chair and flip the wine menu open against the turn of his arm, "Well... That's not entirely true. My Butler, Alfred.. He guessed your size... but I'm going to take credit, since I pay him a fortune."
The smile redoubles when he looks back up and across the table. "You look amazing, at anyrate. So I'd say it was worth every penny I paid him to guess.."
He was in town... Lois blinks, and her lips part to ask, but he slides her chair in for her and is in his seat and chatting before she can even collect her breath. A blush tickles at her cheeks, and her gaze slides down to the dress covering her form perfectly. Again, she takes a breath to speak, but Bruce just continues right on chattering. Lois looks at him again, a bit of confusion and awe on her face. That is, until the smile redoubles and brings that blush to fill life across her cheeks. Question? What question? "Thanks," she manages to get out, starting to swoon a bit. A breath is taken, a sigh starting when she remembers herself with a faint shake of her head. "And, what are you doing in Metropolis, Mr. Wayne?"
Bruce never loses a beat, turning to glance up at the waitor when he comes to take their wine order, "Chteau Haut Brion Pessac-Lognan 1982." Holding the list up with for the man to promptly take it and head towards the cellar to collect their bottle. Even with the pause, he keeps track. Like several conversations could go on around him and he'd follow them all seamlessly. A sort of boardroom situational awareness.
"Business." Flipping his hand absently, while smiling across the table like this is anything but an interview. Disarming with his charm? Maybe.
"An advertising campaigne suggested by the board.. I usually don't put much weight into their 'advisement', unless it's profitable anyways... But Metropolis seems like the natural place for our new line of smart technology."
Lois could stand to take notes from this guy. The ease with which he handles it all... She smiles again, that blush cooling to just a faint rose on her cheeks. She doesn't comment about the wine choice, not being knowledgable in the slightly, but just smiles politely and tries to keep up.
"City of Tomorrow and all that jazz," she comments, smile broadening. "Any names for the short list of which Metropolis company Wayne's going to pick to manufacture and distribute this tech," she asks, reaching for her purse could dilberately. "Oh, you don't mind if I take notes, do you?"
"Exactly." Wayne confirms when she applies the cities 'title' in explaination. "Oh, no not at all. Obviously there are going to be parts of the model I can't talk about yet, but we're not overly secretive in this venture." Waving his hand absently as he speaks.
His posture is almost lazy, not really slouched, but certainly not the way a man in a forty thousand dollar suit should be sitting at all. As if it doesn't matter to him, it's just money. Of which he has plenty.
He waits for her to get the recorder or pen and paper ready. "We're working in conjunction with Delmont interprises and Calahan Technologies, respectively. Delmont will be handling distribution in Metropolis and New York, while Galahan is going to be tapped for manufacture. Their portfolio is really under appreciated, but they're shadowed here in Metropolis. We're hoping that with Wayne Technology backing, both companies can increase their fiscal gross ten fold." Not to mention the sheer fortune that'll be swept in for share holders in Wayne Tech when the company expands into a new demographic. That part, he doesn't say outloud...
It's just implied.
Permission given, Lois opens her purse, pulls out the pen, turns it on, and sets it to record. She then puts the pen back into her purse, leaving it open, and returns to her conversation as if nothing happened. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne," she says politely as she returns her attention to him, and the blush to her cheeks. It's wild to see someone to blazee about it all.
She listens to him unfold his master plan and just blinks at it. It's so... mundane. It makes her smile, really. First Superman being a poop, then Batman scaring the beejeesus out of her, followed by Huntress hauling her by the wrist through the back alleys of Gotham only to have Gambit drop in and near start a spandex & cape super powered death match in the alley right in front of her.... It was just all getting too much to take in. This, this is much nicer. Simple. Uncomplicated. Elegent. Lois's smile warms.
"You realize that just me publishing their names in this piece might increase their fiscal gross," Lois quips, hinting at what some financial analysists are dubbing the Wayne Effect.
Bruce bobs his head from side to side, grinning like the cheshire when she points out what effect collaboration with Wayne Tech might have when printed in the Daily's pages. "I might have had a suspicion yes." Which might well be why he name dropped them at all? He certainly didn't have to.
The wine appears a moment later, which gives them a moment of silence while two glasses are poured for them and the bottle left sitting on the table, near at hand. "A few more minutes on our orders. Business before pleasure." He kids with the Waitor, who smiles because this is Bruce Wayne and you don't roll your eyes at him.
Then he's looking back across the table with his wine glass out. "To fiscal gross? Unless you've got a better toast in mind?" Perking a brow.
The reporter chuckles at that cheshire grin, getting one of her own. He knows exactly what he's up to, she notes to herself, making that mental note to poke into both of those companies to see if they aren't already connected to Wayne. Of course, she'll have to avoid the traditional methods of securing that information so as not to tip off anyone looking for what Wayne's up to next. 'Call loads of companies in metropolis for basic CEO info, poke at Delmon and Calahan personally.'
She smiles to the waiter as he pours the wine, giggles faintly as Bruse offers business before pleasure. She purses her lips, a mischevious glint in her eyes as the two lifts their glasses in toast. "Not being that kind of girl," she offers in a toast, winking at Bruce Wayne sitting across from her. Tit for tat.
"Touche..." Bruce says in a low voice, though he never loses his grin, and clicks the rim of his glass against her's lightly. "To wrong impressions." laughing quietly before sipping the twenty year old wine. Lightly at first and then with more vigor. He does realize how much this stuff costs right?
"So tell me, how was your trip to Gotham City? Did you get a chance to do any sight seeing while you were in town?"
Point: Lois! She grins as Bruce lowers his voice, head tilting as a brow quirks, still mischevious, as glass touches glass. A soft giggling chuckle is given as she sips her drink. The flavor smoothes her expression to something more surprised than mischevious, before she chuckles again at Bruce's carefree with a drink than probably costs more per bottle than she makes in a month. Her head shakes faintly.
At his question, however, the Metropolis reporter appears confused and a little taken aback. "How did you-" She chuckles, shaking her head again, appearing to merely take it as 'because it's Bruce MUDDERFRAKKING Wayne'. "Ah, it was.... interesting," she replies finally, looking away during the pause.
"Well, you came by the Wayne Tech building." Bruce reminds her, "I figured it was a day trip, but it seems an awful long way to come just for a few hours and then head back to Metropolis?" It's all very reasonable, delivered with a grin. A knowing grin, but still a grin.
At least until she pauses and looks away. That's when the expression slips, not vanish, just slips.
"Interesting things happen in Gotham? You'll have to tell me about that... I was under the impression it was all boring parties and rich people pretending they've got class... Hopefully nothing dangerous?"
Lois forces that smile onto her face. She had been so flustered from the evening's events that her trip into Wayne Tech was a complete flop. The mere reminder of that day of novice-level reporting makes her violet eyes flash abit angrily. She looks back over at Bruce, just missing that slip of expression.
His question and apparent worry, makes her chuckle, and she sips her wine again. "Oh, nothing a Metropolis girl can't handle," she quips. "Just a trio of costumed weirdos deciding to try to scare me out of the city. I mean, really? You make one wrong turn while out looking around, and suddenly it's like a Tim Burton film!"
Lois smiles at Bruce, expression growing softer. Aw! So cute! He's worried about me. "Nothing dangerous," she assures. Could it be a lie? Given that having guns pointed at her in Metropolis would not have been at all dangerous, considering who likes to play her Guardian Angel; or is it made MORE of a lie considering Lois Lane is infamous for getting into dangerous situations that necessitates a superhero saving her? "Just... Gotham has... a lot of interesting people in it," she adds with a chuckle.
"It certainly does." Bruce confirms Gotham's interesting person population by waving both hands down infront of himself. Mostly that seems like a disarming tactic, or a method by which to lighten her mood a bit more. Even if he's not quite ready to let the matter of Gotham's proclevities for costuming night life fade completely.
"You ran into costumed freaks..." Laughing in almost the obsurd manner of someone who's read the papers and thinks it's a load of balogna. "Well, you must have been doing something right? Investigative reporting, I bet..." He /does/ get the Daily Planet, Lois... This is Bruce Wayne.
Bruce's hand waving achieves the desired affect of lightening her mood. Lois chuckles at the sight and once more her head shakes. "I'll say," she quips in agreement. Waiters may not roll their eyes at Bruce Wayne, but spunky femme reporters do: Lois Lane rolls her eyes at Bruce Wayne.
She nods, the expression turning into a faintly narrowed eyed glare as he laughs at her. She purses her lips at him, one brow quirking. "You'll have to keep reading to find out," she retorts, lifting her wine glass, dipping her chin a fraction of an inch, and then taking a sip.
"I'd have read it anyways." Bruce assures her, but doesn't press any further... at least not at first. Instead he grins across the table, right in the face of her defiance. He may be use to getting what he wants, but he's not a bully about it.
"Would you?" He asks, returning to an earlier point. Even going so far as to raise a curious brow slightly over one dark eye. Another glass is poured for himself and the bottle held out towards Lois in invitation for him to top of her own flute. "Say, I mean. That I'm interesting?"
"I said," Lois begins, pausing as she too leans foward toward the Billionaire. "Keep... reading." Her grin is quite defiant, and she's quite used to getting her way too, only.. it's clear that Lois is often a bully about it. Especially to the competition.
She holds her flute out to him, letting him top off her glass. Her violet eyes stray to the liquid, and she tells herself she needs to take TINY sips, so she's not blitz in a few hours. Returning to meeting Bruce's gaze, Lois hmms? softly as he asks his question. She chuckles faintly, but shakes her head. "Nope. Just like every other rich boy that's taken me to dinner," she quips, starting to sit back in her chair. "Though, I have to admit... the other didn't get the restaurant cleared out so... kiddos." She lifts her glass again, wordlessly offering his a toast for one-upping his competition.
"Oh please." Bruce half lounges, half leans across the back of the chair after refilling Lois' glass and replacing the bottle on the side of the table. "There's only a handful of men that are even in my tax bracket.." Which is probably not where she would have expected him to go. Maybe he didn't mean to? Whatever.
"And of the two.. maybe three.. that are, I'm by far the most... well no, there is Tony Stark.." Tucking his mouth to one side. He offers a shrug and a quiet laugh, "Well, that is a tough nut to crack, anyways.."
Also, he seems wholely unphased by defiance. Almost glinting with one of those 'challange accepted' sort of expressions.
Lois laughs at all this, sipping very gingerly at her wine. Watching Bruce whittle about at what other richboys she's been dating lately is quite amusing. His expression of accepting her challenge broadens her grin and makes her eyes glitter. Her brows even lift up once, suggestively, at the look. Silence... it's often a woman's most lethal weapon. She just smiles slyly, and watches him.
Bruce Wayne, regardless of what the tabloids might say about him, is a wholely different breed of man than most billionaires. Nevermind the fortune five hundred company he inheritted and turned into a Global national entity practically overnight, forget that he's one of the most influential figures in Gotham, if not the nation, based solely on her personality and charisma. He's also able to lock horns with some of the most devious femme fetals with the grace and poise that he is so very much attributed in the papers. That suggestive look is met and returned. One brow perking slightly higher as she falls into a woman weaponry like silence, which he meets with a calm sort of quiet of his own.
Two can, very definately, play at that game.
"You know, Mr. Wayne, you're not exactly what I'd pictured from Gotham's most notorious bad boy," Lois says finally, no longer able to handle the Silent Game. That and the sudden silence from the outgoing, forward, devilishly charming, Bruce Wayne is more than a little unnerving. Bleeeh! Lois is hard pressed NOT to shudder away that shiver threatening to creep up her spine.
"I'm poorly represented in those rags." Bruce counters, almost before she's finished saying it. Like he's heard it, analysed it, and come up with a stock response that fits almost every rephrasing of that statement. The shiver, however, is new. His expression softens and he leans back in his chair, sipping at his wine absently. "Maybe not, entirely, misrepresented.. but I'm not nearly as bad as they make out. Most of the time."
"Everyone has their moments, right Lois?" Deliberately using her first name. Not in a forward manner, but a friendly one. A bridging of the gap.
Oh, there it is. Every CEO has at least one of those, don't they? Stock answers. Lois is about to roll her eyes, about to pull away, annoyed when that shift happens, right about the time she gets that creeped out feeling under control. The use of her first name has her pausing; she blinks at him. Friendly was NOT something she'd considered the infamous playboy Wayne capable of. The unfairness of it strikes her, and confuses her, all at the same time. "Some more than others," she comments softly into her wine glass, taking a slightly larger sip than she had meant to. Her gaze slides from the billionaire, unfocusing as she ponders deep thoughts.
It'd be hard not to think he's not digging himself into a grave, but Bruce rolls with it rather easily. Like he's use to most of the responses or has just come to expect them in every situation. It doesn't breach his mood one bit. Grinning every bit as lazily as he has their entire dinner (which hasn't even begun yet, for the record). "So you're telling me you don't have anything you've done that you wish people didn't know? Or wouldn't /want/ people to know?" Not just dismay, disbelief. Shaking his head slowly as he drains a second glass and sets the empty flute back down on the edge of the table. "Mistakes aren't problematic to living, unless you don't learn anything from them. In my experiences, they're often the best way to know you're alive..." His head lulls a little in a side nod, "Unfortunately, I don't always have the luxury of anonymity. People are interested, people want to 'see' their celebrities." It's not bragging, he /is/ a celebrity. It's honesty and not said as if he consider it something he truely 'deserves'. "So people see my mistakes more readily than they see other peoples... And they forget them slower."
"I'm not saying that at all," Lois counters, looking back at Bruce from wherever she had drifted briefly. Her eyes are a bit troubled. "And.. I... sure I've done some phenominally stupid things, but I'm just saying that it's wrong for people to make their living exploiting other people's lives. You get the raw deal from those wretched stains on real journalism, and it just..." she pauses, searching for the word with her hand. "... just pisses me off," she finishes after a few seconds hunting.
She continues, her tone growing more passioned about her subject as she name drops, "I'm not saying that if I caught wind of you... Stark... Worthington... Luthor... hell, Superman doing anything... unethical I wouldn't bust your chops all over Page One, it's just..." she pauses, lowering the finger she had pointed, like jabbing, at Bruce. Her tone softens then too, eyes following suit, as a light pout pulls at the corners of her mouth, "that's where it should end... you know?"
She starts to glances away, her wine glass comin to her lips once more.
"We knew the score when we stepped out in the flash bulbs." Bruce assures her with a shrug of his shoulder, even a shake of his head at the mention of some of the names on that particular hit list of ethics. "I could quietly manage my company from home or the boardroom and never grace the pages of anything.. but I enjoy living. That's my point. It's not that what I do gets printed, it's that because it /does/, I'm often held to my mistakes rather my successes. And I only mention it because you referred to me as a 'bad boy' of Gotham." Grinning slightly, refilling his glass. "If I weren't Bruce Wayne, the mistakes I've made would be barely footnotes in a man's life.. because I am, they're pointed road marks. It's part and parcel. I do what I enjoy doing..." Dipping his shoulder upwards and his head down towards it. "I think everyone should or else, what's the point of it all?" Motioning across the table towards Lois, even leaning a bit upon one arm crossed over the edge of the table itself, "What about you? What do you do for fun, Lois?"
That's a spin Lois hadn't thought about before. It has her intrigued, given that she'd taken Bruce to be a self-centered, immature rich boy. Her head tilts to one side, violet eyes regardin him and that grin. His words get her head nodding slightly now again, as she inwardly agrees to this or that.
It's to his questions that she chuckles. "Well, I certainly don't do nearly half the things -you- do for fun, that for certain," she retorts, grinning a bit bashfully. How on Earth do you tell the Most Interesting Man in the World that your idea of a fun night is staying home, eating ice cream out of the tub, while watching TV sitcoms and really bad romantic comdeys on AMC? She shifts a bit self-consciously at it, lingering over a sip of her wine.
Bruce leans forward against the edge of the table and turns his glass slowly with two circling fingers around the long neck of the flute, "Things are perspective." He finally points out after examining her for a brief moment with that light grin on his face. "People take pleasure from different things in different circumstances.. or they just /have/ different circumstances and that gives them a different sort of criteria by which to judge what they do.."
Motioning the glass towards Lois, then taking a long sip of the expensive wine. "So tell me, what do you find joy in? Or should I guess? I've heard I'm pretty good at that..." Smirking sardonically as he settles comfortably into his seat. The wait staff vigilantely watching the pair to see when they'll need another bottle or are prepared to order.
It's like he can read her mind! Lois glances at Bruce, then averts her gaze, hoping the blush she can feel isn't as noticeable - yeah right! She licks her lips, sips her wine, and tucks a lock of hair behind an ear before she musters up the moxy to answer.
"No. Please spare me the embarassment of any false impressions by guessing," she quips, hiding once more behind that bravado by lifting her chin defiantly at Bruce again. "If you must know, I like watching really bad TV while eating ice cream out of the tub... The cheap generic brand ice cream that's on sale and covered in ice crystals because its been in the fridge a week longer than it should," she says with complete and utter honesty. Point: Bruce. What's the score now?
Bruce shakes his head at the blush that rolls across Lois' cheeks, "See, I thought you were a hard boiled investigative reporter..." It's not the same words she spun on him earlier, but it's the same tone. "Imagine that, you're actually a beautiful woman under all that carefully controlled exterior." Motioning with a half point as he listens to her version of a 'good night'. Tilting his head slightly, "Right after my parents died, Alfred... that's my butler, been with the family for years, he'd come into my room with a bowl of ice cream and a tall glass of milk.." His smile, which before almost seemed fake, or as if it could be fake if he didn't wear it so easily, has a softer edge to it. "When I think about comfort, I always picture that. Watching Smokey and the Bandit, eating ice cream."
The same tone which earns the playboy a roll of her eyes... and yet another blush, once more cracking through her 'carefully controlled expterior'. When he opens up and speaks of the comfort of ice cream, Lois looks over. She marvels at that soft edge to his smile, her eyes misting over. "Loved reruns of Smokey. Frog cracks me up to no end," she murmurs. "It was my mother's favorite show...." Her voice also carries that ache of a lost parent. "Rocky Road," she offers her flavor of choice, a soft offering carrying nothing more than a kindred spirit.
"Frog... hah.. yeah, I had a pretty big crush on Sally Fields." Bruce also glances around, as if he would have anything to be concerned about if someone where to over hear that admission. "Chocolate mint." As if they're sharing the secrets to the temple of doom. Smirking slightly as he leans back away from the table. Dispite the obvious reveal he's offered, he doesn't seem misted about the feelings obvious in it. If anything, there's just comfort. "So, ice cream and old movies..." Nodding slowly, lip presses against his wine glass. "I'll remember that." Right before draining the rest of his third glass.
When Bruce looks about, Lois chuckles. "I won't print that," she states, amusement in her voice.
Her nose wrinkles faintly at his flavor, and the tip of her tongue peeks out. But other than that semi-childish expression of 'not my favorite flavor!', Lois only smiles in return. All they need now is a secret hand shake!
Lois's cheeks burn once more as Bruce promises to remember ice cream and old movies, her own wine glass coming to her lips to be sipped at.
"Please don't.. I have a reputation to uphold. Infact, most of this conversation is definately going to have to be off the record." Bruce says with a light laugh in one of those 'cover your bases' voices, shaking his head.
THe waiter comes back around finally and glances between the pair. "Oh.. I guess we should order shouldn't we? Unless you'd rather get out of here?" Offered to Lois. The wait staff don't care, they were paid in advanced. Far more than they would have possibly made tonight if they'd been open for regular business.
Bruce Wayne.
"Yes, of course. All the personal stuff... Off the-" and then Lois' voice stops. Her cheeks darken a bit and her eyes widen. "Shit," she mutters as she quickly hand dives into her purse. Fumbling, fumbling, dig and out comes the pen. It takes her a moment to get it turned off.
"Sorry. I'll... delete most of that," she says, chuckling with embarassment. Her hands replace the pen into her purse.
With the waiter looking between the two, she smiles. "I'm assuming you paid them a crazy amount of money to close down just for us and that they get paid regardless of whether or not we actually eat anything, right?"
The wait staff are far too professional to nod when that question is asked, Bruce on the other hand, is not. "More than they'll make for the next three nights, I'm sure." And without needing to exagerate. He doesn't cheap up on things like this. It's expensive to cater to him and he realizes that. That's why he /has/ money, or at least, that's his philosophy. Or it would seem to be.
Her pen diving, however, almost has him snickering. "No, it's okay.. you can hold onto it for posterity, but I reserve the right to deny everything.. And write a letter demanding a retraction." Mostly, he's teasing. Also, he's standing and offering Lois his hand across the table. "Shall we?"
Three nights, huh? Lois snickers, grinning wickedly. "Well, then. I might considering leaking that to a tabloid, just toss them a bone.... or if you annoy me. Which ever makes more sense that the time," quips the reporter with a smirk and next to NO seriousness whatsoever.
Collecting her clutch, Lois puts her other hand in Bruce's, standing with him, smiling. "Sure... Where are going?"
"I don't know yet." Bruce admits, turning and moving her hand from his left into his right so that he can hold it as they walk. Another gap bridged. Though he does eventually sweep it up into the curve of his arm, rather than curling his fingers. Some things are too personal for an 'interview', right? He knows where those boundries are. He also seems aquainted with testing them.
"I figure you can show me the Metropolis sites? I don't get out here this way very often, so haven't had much opertunity to be a tourist."
Stepping smoothly to his side, Lois is quite surprised at the hand holding. Not 'bad surprised' or 'WTF surprised'. No, she's more like 'he's doing what now?' surprised. She blinks once, the smile growing broader, if a bit questioning. It's like the most popular boy in school is holding your hand on the way OUT of the cafeteria... only the only ones in the cafeteria are the nutrition specialists. Her smile grows a bit more self-questioning as he shifts her hand to his elbow.
"You want to do touristy things," she asks, once more surprised, and this time she chuckles at it. "Like go see the duck pond at Centennial Park, or the globe of the Daily Planet... those sorts of things," she asks, not really believing her ears, and yet tickled by it all the same. No grand prince is he. Just a regular guy... with a crap ton of money!
"Sure, why not? I guess I could charter a helicoptor for us to see them... but isn't this easier? And probably better." Bruce reasons, nodding up and down the street at the pedesterian laden sidewalk. A white haired older gentleman steps around the front of the vehicle to pull the door open for them, but Bruce shakes his head. "We're going to walk, Alfred. I'll meet you back at the hotel in..." To Lois, "A few hours?" Tilting his head back and forth. "I don't want to hold you from work."
Alfred doesn't smile, he simply closes the door and nods to the pair, "Of course, Master Bruce. Ms. Lane." And returns to the front of the old modeled bentley with reverse 'suicide' doors. A very old autmobile and probably one of twelve in the state, three in that condition, one that's all original parts.
A walk... in what is probably a designer gown and her good heels.... with Bruce Wayne? You know, Lois will just wear flats and ice her ankles tomorrow.
She smiles, eyes widening at the bently and the older gentleman. That's Alfred. She starts to smile at him, but when her turns away without a smile, she blinks a few times, and lets herself follow along, arm in arm with THE most eligible bachleor, down the streets of Metropolis.
It takes her a moment before she recovers, smirks, and quips, "You know, you probably could have called him and told him that. Or did you want to show off the really nice car?"
"Was that showing off? I've got two of them?" Bruce glances back at the automobile as it pulls away from the curb and easily into traffic. Say what you want, Alfred has a particular set of skills of his own and one of them is definately driving. "Naw, Alfred worries." True, but maybe not always 'for' Bruce. Either way, the most eligible bachleor walks down the street with a casual sort of glance down at Lois' shoes.
"In hindsight, maybe this wasn't such a good idea, huh? Unless you're also exceptionally skilled with a pair of heels as well as investigative reporting." He keeps repeating it, it's almost like he's 'lightly' teasing her. Bruce handles the spattering of attention being out gets him with dignity. This isn't Gotham, obviously, but he is still well known outside of Jersey. "Sorry about all this.." Mostly the gawking and whispering as they pass. "If you've got a better idea, I'm open for suggestions?"
Lois snerks at Bruce's glance. "Yeah. Just a little," she tells him, amused that he didn't seem to realize it. She smiles as she watches Alfred handle the vehicle before turning to look back up at Bruce. That's when it hits her... all the attention, the whispers. Where he's well known in gerenal, she's very well-knowns in Metropolis, especially after that first 'appearance of Superman' incident. Her cheeks darken faintly, but she lifts her chin. Once more, her eyes hold a defiant glint.
"Well, the shoes will start to get uncomfortable, not to mention they ARE my best heels," Lois comments of her ready-to-wear designer shoes. These must have cost Lois a good portion of one paycheck, at least... or possibly maxed out a credit card. "But, since you want to see the Globe, I'll get you a view of it that no helicopter in the world can get you... and pick up something a bit more sensible besides," she comments, giving him a wink.
Take a good look, Metropolis. This is how Lois Lane gets business done. She doesn't care if you don't like it, or think badly of her. When her story's done, written, and gone to press, you'll be eating every mean word you ever spoke. So, suck it.
Bruce might well seem to eat the attention up, but there's little indication that he might not. One would really have to look deep, dig through the layers of his smile when someone lifts their phone to snap a photograph or whisper something about that being 'The' Bruce Wayne with Lois Lane.. He takes it in stride, never complains. It's the way things are, it's the way he's spent his adult life crafting it, but still... there's the twinges.
Barely precieved tremors in his face that show the smile might faulter, though it never does. The curl of his eyes at the corners where it almost becomes a squint. It never does, but it could... very easily. "Oh yeah?"
His tone remains pleasant, jovial in a way that's lazy and casual.. that too is like a designer suit he's wearing, but it seems genuine somehow. If distantly. "And where is this mystical view? And why would you stash sensible clothing there?"
Lois blinks once at that fragile sort of almost twinge that this closeness brings her. The click of the cell phone camera and the almost squint poke at her. She turns her gaze away, and her smile also grows carefully practiced and somewhat pained. It's smiling at a dirty rat to get the story, only this time the rat isn't the business mogul on her arm.
"Because I'm an investigative reporter," she states loudly, violet eyes tracking to the camera man. Gaze caught, her eyes narrow, her smile growing challenging. "As very good investigative reporter that always gets her story, no matter how far she needs to dig," she says in a warning tone. It's as if she's directing those words to the man, daring him to post that picture where she can find it lest he'd like her to dig up a story about HIM. When he relents and gives her a nod as she passes, Lois smiles again and looks up at Bruce, eyes once more clear. "I never know when I have to have a fresh suit to change into," she adds when a coy grin.
Bruce watches this exchange with an elevated brow, admiring the challange inherent in her stare when it's pointedly turned towards the man and his cellphone. There's nothing added from the billionaire, what else would need to be said? He's not exactly known for shying away from publicity or causing trouble with the press.. So it's refreshing to have someone with him that doesn't seem so inclined to bite the preverbial bullet.
"I see.." Grinning a little more as they resume walking, adjusting his arm so that her's is held a little tighter and her a little closer as they walk. "So, lead the way, Ms Lane. I'm the guest here. Obviously one day I will have to return the favor in Gotham."
To the invitation, Lois laughs brightly, only too happy to step in closer to Bruce's side. "Only if we avoid the back alleys of Little Italy," she quips. Her steps grow far more confident as she takes the lead in directing the pair toward the Hypersector and the Daily Planet building.
Category:Logs
Category:RPLogs