2012-07-02 Queen Ann's Revenge

It's been a few nights, almost a week, and it might seem like he's going to live up to his reputation as a playboy. No call, no letter, not even any flowers. And then the call comes in to Lois. Well, that's not entirely true... A card is sitting on her desk at the Planet... but it's sort of like a call. It's more of an invitation than a request, but he doesn't 'really' ask. He just tells her there's a jet waiting for her at Metropolis International Airport to come to Gotham.
And for her to bring a bathing suit.
Provided she does show, the airline staff offer her champagne and fresh fruit to munch on and they land at a private air strip in Bristol. The private planes of the richest people in Gotham are in hangers lining the port, but there's a beautiful black car sitting with a single man holding a sign up against his chest.
"Ms. Lois Lane."
Bring... a bathing suit....?
Lois eyes the card, blinking dumbfoundedly at the words for a full five minutes before girly gets the better of her. Telling Perry that she's heading out for a story, the femme reporter grabs her things, dashes home, quickly packs an over night bag, then flags a taxi to the airport. The whole time, her mind's berating her that this is stupid, that this is moronic, that Wayne's got to be up no good, and that he's just playing with her... But then she recalls that smile from last week, that delicate fragility there seems to be in the depth of him, and she steps into the provided jet without hesitation.
An uneventful flight spent playing Angry Birds and Words with Friends on her phone, Lois is surprised by the black car and the man with the sign.
"Jesus... You don't do anything simple, do you, Bruce," she murmurs to herself as she walk over.
"I'm Lois Lane," she tells the man with the sign, trying to act like all of this is perfectly normal.
The man looks Lois over and then nods, "Ms. Lane. Bruce Wayne would like to thank you for joining him. He regrets that he could not meet you here in person." Said with feeling, rather than like he's reading it off a notecard. The back door is pulled open for her and held that way until she enters. Once it's closed, he slips into the driver's seat and takes them out of the airstrip parking.
The drive through Bristol is... well.. the homes here are some of the oldest in the country and 'huge'. The word mansion doesn't really seem sufficiant to actually discribe some of them, and one in particular. The Stylized W on the wrot iron gates as they pass, the winding road leading up the side of a hill, and the 'Palace' that sits atop it... Wayne Manor.
But that's not their stop. The driver doesn't speak unless spoken too, and then when he does it's as if they're old friends. Smiling the entire time, even if it's in dead silence.
The Yacht club comes into view. Magestically recreated boats of every variant. Some that are more like ancient frigates with new world amneties.. "Mister Wayne hopes you are not afraid of the water?" As they pull into the parking.
Wow. That line sounds very senator business mogul. It urks Lois, but she smiles through it, that fake reporter's glossy smile. "It's fine," she replies back, her tone even and cool. "I understand. Thank you."
For a good five minutes, Lois Lane doesn't speak. But when she does, she peppers the poor man with all sorts of random reporter questions: what's your name? how long have you worked for Wayne? do you drive him to many parties?
As the Palace comes into view, however, Lois falls into stunned silence. Her mouth drops open and she scoots to peer more closely out the window. She's about to ask if that's where they are going when the driver turns away. Relief and disappointment mix together until she sees the yacht club. Oh God. Here we go.
"No, not at all," Lois replies, biting the inside of her lower lip to try to calm her nerves.
The driver is surprisingly good at answering the questions without really saying a great deal. Yes and no answers where he can, a simple explaination where he can't. Seems Bruce picks the best.. or at least trains them to appear like they are.
The boats are all moared and beautiful. Some of them clearly just show pieces for wealthy individuals who have more time and money than they've got things to spend either on.
One of them is.. Well it's still in the dock, but it's clear that this is where everyone is going. Music is playing from the deck, which sounds like a live DJ and everyone is dressed in a manner that screams rich summer party. Shaws wrapped around their waists, bathing suits.
The driver slides out from the front to open Lois' door for her. "Ms Lane, Mister Wayne is waiting for you on the front deck." Nodding towards the old styled yacht designed to look like the 'Queen Anns Revenge'... that or it actually IS the Queen Anns Revenge.
Can't be the Queen Ann. That boat's priceless, and far too historical to be used as a dance party. Lois nods, scoops up her backpack to fling over a shoulder, then steps out with the driver's assistance. She walks toward the boat, after giving the driver a thanks, and her eyes scan the boat, the details, the mooring. No naval officiers in the family, Lois isn't really quite sure what to make of it all, but her smile never falters, no matter how out of place she feels.
Front deck, he said? Front deck she goes... or at least hopes she goes. Which way IS the front deck? Is it... down this way?
If it's a recreation, it's a brilliantly detailed one. All of the lines are accurate, though the wood has obviously been upgraded to allow for modernized methods of element protection. The sails are newer, the ropes are of a higher quality, but even they are tied and twisted to specificity. Either way.
People line the deck, some dancing, some lounging in the rare Gotham Sun to work on their tan with the wealthy elite. Waiters move around with trays of baluga Caviar and champagne glasses. Everything is very open and friendly...
The direction Lois heads off to is, not, the way to the front deck. It leads down towards the lower decks after a few twists and turns and stairs... There's a galley and a museum section. Some of the pieces are clearly from the fifteenth century. Flint pistols and cutlass swords in glass display cases.
Seriously, how much money does Bruce have?
"It's beautiful isn't it?"
The voice comes from behind her. Not necessarily booming, but confident and sure. It's also familiar. Bruce stands in a black pair of swim trunks that probably cost more than most economy cars. His black hair slicked back, a smile on his face, and his body... well... He /definately/ works out. "Champagne?" Holding a glass out towards her.
Wow. This boat is amazing. Lois, forgetting she's supposed to be meeting with Bruce on the front deck, gets lost in the details of the place. She almost stops breathing at the gallery, daring to move as close as she can, her hands kept to herself in fear that this place is a musuem. The thumping music from above summarily ignored. Is that a cutlass?
Whelmed by the priceless artifacts and the beauty of the place, Lois screams and drops her back pack at the sudden voice behind her. "Holy Shit Mother of God," tubmles from her mouth before she can catch it, and her cheeks go bright red. She turns quickly.
"Bruce," she breathes when he offers the champagne. She starts to laugh at herself, but then her eyes catch sight of that... perfect... wow. The blush is NOT going anywhere as Lois, quite openly, oogles the billionaire standing shirtless in front of her. Her lips part, and she just stands there for quite a long stretch of time before...
"Umm.. yeah, yes, please, thank you," she stammers, forcing her eyes away and to the floor to find her back pack so she can collect it. She bites her lower lip HARD, before turning back toward Bruce with a tense sort of OMG-i'm-so-effing-embarrassed smile and reaching for the glass.
"Hi." Smooth.
Bruce just smiles. Not knowing or even chiding at her reaction. It's an expression that's as patient as he seems to be while Lois collects both her thoughts and her things, never letting the glass fall below eye level until it's taken from his out stretched hand.
"Hi, yourself."
A quiet reply, then he too is looking around the various collected items, sipping from his tumbler as he moves in a slow circuit of the various shelves and cases. "Are you a history buff, Lois?" Asked as he gazes over the collections. "I'm a student of it, myself. I think we can learn a great deal about today, by studying how people were yesturday. Get an idea of how things will be tomorrow... You know that old saying; those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it." Etc.
He turns to look at her over his shoulder, "You brought a bathing suit I hope? You'll definately stand out if not... ofcourse, I took the liberty of getting you one. Just in case."
Lois chugs the champange, hoping for the liquid to settle her nerves. She coughs a bit as the bubbles get to her nose, and has to clear her throat before she can even begin to answer.
"Umm, well sort of, yeah. The people, the stories, behind even a tiny little item like a cufflink, or a ....drinking glass..." Becuase it was that or blurt out something about his abs...) "...are really interesteing to me."
She pauses then, mind catching up to his. "I have a swim suit, Bruce," she says, blush coming back to life. She tries to hid eit by patting her backpack. "Got a bathroom I can change in?"
"At least one." Bruce assures her with a grin, draining his own glass and reaching out for her's on the way back above deck. "Come on, I'll show you." The trip isn't a short one, it can't be. He's the host and people want to talk to him or just say hello.. or try to get him to invest in their latest, greatest, scheme. It's handled with varying levels of professional disinterest.
He's really good at it. A flampent remark about having to consult with his financial consultants, or being in Bermuda that weekend. It's clever, nobody ever gets offended, nobody stays long enough to keep him from showing Lois through the back most double doors into the sole 'bedroom' on the boat.
"Sorry about that.. the bathroom is right through there." At some point he retrieved a second glass, for both of them, and uses his to point towards an adjacent room off from the sleeping area. "I'll be above deck getting us underway."
Lois chuckles in the face of that grin, and moves to follow him. She watches as he weaves about, chatting here and there. She marvels at the grace of it all, how he never seems to ostrisize or insult, and yet he gives them nothing of what they were asking for. Lois stays quiet the entire time! It's a small miracle.
Arriving at the bedroom, Lois' eyebrows rise, and she glances at Bruce out of the corners of her eyes. When she reads nothing in his posture to hint a hidden agenda, she nods and smiles again and leans forward to look where he pointed.
"Okay. Thanks, Bruce," she says while moving to step away from him. That's when it hits her... underway? She turns to ask up about it but she's like four seconds too late, and Bruce is gone.
('Damn, he's quick,') she comments to herself. ('And HHHHAAWWWTT!') With a shake of her head, she clears those thoughts from her mind, and moves to the bathroom.
"This I've got to see... how Bruce Wayne is Bruce Wayne's bathroom," is her soft comment as she steps in to change.
Immaculate. The bathroom is, literally, spotless. Not a stray hair, unfolded towel, or even the hint of any toiletries that aren't absolutely fundamental. Either he rents the boat, and hasn't stocked it, or doesn't use it often enough that he needs anything more than what it comes equipped with. Either way, it's a beautiful interior. People overlook how much a bathroom can bring to the asthetics of a place.
This crystaline interior is a rare exception. It could easily hold a candle to the monicure, 'throne room'. Without being too vulgar.
It's a few minutes while the crew unhooks the Frigate from the moars and gets it ready for depatures, but the initial jerk of motion signals that they're headed out into the bay. The DJ puts on something lively, without making it 'dance party', in the theme of 'Bon Voyage' and the crowds above cheer in excitement as the party 'really' begins.
The bathroom tells a lot about the home owner, or so her mother always told her. Lois whistles at the cleanliness. She sets her things down and strips to change, glad she shaved the night before. She's balanced on one foot, stepping into the bottom of her two piece when the boat jerks. Lois nearly faceplants, but her hands catch the wall just in time. She lets out a breath, and finishes dressing quickly. Blue two piece and a dark red wrap about her waist, blue flip flops and black sun glasses. She removes her jewelry, rubs on some sunscreen, tucks her personal belonging back into her back pack and then looks about for a place to put it... She opts to leave it in an out of sight corner in the bedroom. She takes her phone with her, tucked into a pocket stitched into the wrap about her waist. She uses a red scrunchie to tie her hair up into a sloppy sort of pony tail on the top of her head.
She peers in the mirror, then yanks the pony tail out and tries again. Twice more, without the neatness of the hair style changing at all, and Lois finally gives up and heads up to the deck.
The deck.
The deck is packed with people. Twenty or thirty easy.. and several news crews all positioned around with their cameras to get live coverage of the Queen Anns Revenge: Against illteracy. A charity event hosted by Bruce Wayne in Denver Bay.
Bruce is moving about the party goers, smiling and occationally sipping at his glass as he mingles. Just about the time Lois comes up, he's in the midst of a story..
"We were sailing around the Horn when Dick looks to me and starts flailing his arms like a mad man, shouting at the top of his lunges, jumping up and down trying to get my attention before we hit the rock croppings... The four of us spent the next three days marooned on a rocks in the bay.. all about sixty feet apart." Pointing out the various rocks, though they're nowhere in sight, "Dick occationally shouts out at me.. Hey Bruce, do you see the reef now?" Rolling into a barrelling laughter that seems infectious. The chortles from the small group isn't that 'humoring the host' laughter. Even if the story isn't particularly funny, the embarassment on his face certainly is.
"Anyways... listen. I want to thank all of you for coming out today. Gotham City doesn't see a lot of good weather, so I'm glad we had a rare break from the rain. It's actually very pointed for what we're doing here. All of us have had lucky breaks in life.. like the sun this morning.. while others struggle for basic needs."
Speech, speech.
Pulling her sun glasses down over her eyes, Lois actually elects to stand behind the news crews for the moment, arms folding under her breasts as she listens to the story, eyes watching the crowd. She smiles softly to herself, hand reaching for her phone. She's texting a note to herself in the downloaded To-Do App: Queen Ann Revenge against illiteracy, charity event, BW. Lovely weather, "rare break from rain, pointed for what doing here, all had lucky breaks in life, like sun this AM, other struggling for basics..." She's chuckling to herself, that she's actually going to write a charity 'fluff' piece, rather than her usual hard hitting corporate misconduct scoops of the decade she typically loves to go after.
No one mind her, just some girl in red and blue, texting on her phone....
Bruce finishes his speech, then motions to the various collections agents for the Charity positioned discreetly around the boats deck. "And don't forget to dig deep in those wallets.. This wasn't easy to put together." He's anything if not lacking in sublety. Everyone gets a laught out of it though, so that's a good thing at least.
Spying the red and blue clad woman back behind the news Crews, Bruce makes his way through the crouds towards her and her texting fingers. "All work and no play? I thought charity events were a little beneath you?" It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize she's taking notes. Or to sip at champagne, which he definately does. "You look great." Motioning to her bathing suit. Even has sun, which one could argue he is in severe need of. But he /does/ live in Gotham.
Lois has the tip of her tongue caught between her front teeth, a tiny bit of it barely visible between her lips. She's txting away on her app, puting names of any faces she recognizes, and any news call signs she spots to tap those sources later when she sends out the final draft. Bruce's voice gets her to glance up, and a smile comes to her face.
"Told the boss I was headed out on a story. I might as well submit -something- so I'm not a complete liar," Lois retorts warmly, saving her note before keylocking her phone and tucking it back into the pocket she had it in. "I hope it's okay if I left my bag down stairs. I wasn't sure where to put it, or where it'd be safe," she begins, starting to ramble a bit in an effort to cover the blush at him calling her beautiful. Don't blush, don't blush, don't.... damn he's gorgeous!
Bruce rides the wave pretty easily, as he seems to do in most situations like this. Smiling at Lois with a dip of his head, "That should be fine, yeah. Anyone on this boat who steals someone's bag, really is in the wrong class.." Since most of them, besides the news crews, are filthy rich already. And the crew is under orders to keep the private areas... well private.
"Come on, let's go find someplace to sit." Offering his arm to her with a perked brow, "Show you off a little... unless you don't want to be seen with me, of course. I'd understand if it would damage your reputation." He wouldn't understand that at all, but who would? He's Bruce Wayne.
Lois chuckles at that nodding, even as she looks away and kicks herself for it. Did she just accuse people in Wayne's World of theft?! Wow! Trying to recover, Lois leans into his arm and smiles up at him.
"Either way works for me. I'm not terribly shy, but... you know how I feel about tabloids and gossip columns. Choice is yours. I'll go anywhere you want to take me," she says, completely straight faced.... for a solid five seconds before the blush creeps back up to her cheeks.
"That sounded wrong, didn't it," she asks, feeling like a dork and smiling like one to boot.
"Duely noted." Bruce says rather than making a jest at Lois' expense. That's not really the way the man operates, but he's not above a little light teasing. "Don't worry, there's only one tabloid outlet here and they've signed a disclosure agreement. MY people get to look at anything that they intend to print /before/ it goes to the pages. My lawyers were very precise about that... and I have very good laywers."
He does. Walking along with Lois towards the upper deck at the prow of the ship where there's a pseudo 'vip' section roped off. A section that is immediately opened for the host of the charity event. A group of about ten duel chairs are positioned around the back of the frigate, offering one of the more beautiful views of the party and the bay with the ship underway.
Bruce slips down into one and motions to the one close at hand for Lois.
Grateful that he didn't press, Lois follows along and drops into the chair he motioned to. "God, Bruce. This is beautiful," she breathes, looking about at the epic scenery of the bay. Who cares about the party? She stays sitting up for a bit to look about, hands undoing the knot of the wrap. It's uncomfortable to lounge in all tied up like that.
The two piece is modest. A cute little halter top cut, and hipster boy-shorts for the bottoms. Bright red piping is visible, running along the outter edges of the suit. It's splendid in that $29.99 sort of way. Lois herself isn't the perfect species of a woman, but she cares for herself, hits the gym weekly, takes self-defense classes, does yoga in her apartment a few nights a week, and goes for a run at least once a week. It gives her frame that toned look without being overly muscled.
"It is." Bruce agrees, looking out over the bay as well. This is his home, this is the place he was formatively raised and he's proud of it. Even in the worst of weather, with the worst crime rate in any city in the United States... Bruce Wayne loves Gotham City. Like his parents, like their parents. He muses quietly over that for a moment, sipping at his bubbly beverage, then looks to Lois.
Turning to lounge himself, the glass is set down on the table between them and his fingers lace up behind his head. Converse to her light physical frame, it would be impossible not to note that Wayne is in 'phenominal shape'. A true specimen of human physicality, but he'd have to be to lead the kind of social life he does, with the level of confidence he seems to have. He doesn't show it off, flexing like some narsasist at every oportunity, it's just there. And he does his best to direct peoples attention to what he 'says' rather than the way he 'looks'.
"Lois, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
Mesmerized by the sight of the bay, Lois sips at the drink that had worked its way into her hand sometime between... when now? Wayne's cattering staff are like drink NINJAS! With her wrap undone, and Bruce reclining, Lois follow suit, sets her drink down on the table and lounges back. When was the last time she lounged like this...?
"Hmm?" The question, the almost softness of it pulls her attention more assuredly than any fire alarm would. She turns her head to face him, eyes hidden behind her $8 gas station shades.
"No. Not at all, Bruce. What's on your mind?"
"Well, I'm not sure it's a personal question, really.. You be the judge." Bruce begins, unbashful and unashammed, "You and Superman, you're like his personal public relations specialist." Rolling his head over to the side to look at her, half grinning and half curious. "I've read the articles, but I'm still curious. What's he like? Why does he go out of his way to help people the way he does?"
Asked in a quiet voice, one leg coming up to sit sole down on the chair. One hand waves over one of the cater staff to grab a few pieces of caviar, offering one out towards Lois while he awaits the refusal or answer she'll offer up to the questions. "You've got to try this.. Shipped it in from Spain."
Well, that wasn't what she was expecting and yet. Lois sighs and smiles. It's that glossy reporter's smile again, eyes not at all amused or warmed by the expression. Bruce is familiar with this kind of smile, isn't he? She shakes her head at the offer of caviar, with a soft, practiced demure sound of "Thank you."
"I won't say I'm his PR person. He just... trusts me. I'm honest, and fair, and I think he realizes if he crosses that line, I'll burn him for it." She pauses here, taking a moment to gather herself from starting to get worked up about it.... She reaches for her drink to cover that she's having to think about her answer, and finds she's not nearly as smooth about it as Wayne is.
"He's... amazing," she finally settles on, having never had to answer questions like this about her favorite Man of Steel. "He's calm, and composed, and ...." she stops, about to say 'honest'. The shift is noticeble, for it makes her frown faintly.
"...really cares about his fellow Man," Lois settles on after a moment, looking back to Bruce for the first time since reaching for her drink. "It was how he was raised, I think. He has a real desire to help people, to protect them. He knows he has these incredible powers and... well, that he has to be careful, so he doesn't do anything on accident. He's... always shown the greatest of restraint and focus... I... really admire him," Lois finishes, a light blush drifting to her face once more just in trying to get that out without going all fangirl.
Realizing this, Lois flickers a weak smile and puts her drink to her lips, averting her gaze.
"Wow." Bruce notes the expression, sure he does. How couldn't he? For a second there it's like he asked her age or something. He weathers it, though. Even more so when she starts describing the preverbial man of steel. "Yeah, I guess I can see why you admire him." Nodding a few times.
His drink returns and slides up to his lips for a long drink. "But you two, you're not like 'together' or anything?" Is that even a fair question? His head starts shaking, "Don't answer that. None of my business, shouldn't have asked." Waving a bit, diversion. Or diversion to the diversion. Who knows, right? "I've tried to meet him, but never had much luck. Tends to stay clear of Gotham, most of the time... and I don't get out enough."
Lois grins again, the expression still weak, before Bruce asks if they are dating. That's when her cheek go as bright as said Kryptonian's cape. Her eyes go wide and she chokes on a sip of drink gone down the wrong pipe. She coughs a bit, looking at Bruce for that question. Right...
"Do you want me to hook you up with him," Lois asks when she's recovered, her voice a little raw and disbelieving. She quotes Clark, adding, "I don't think he's gay...." She starts to laugh at the stupidity of it. "I don't think -you're- gay, for that matter." Wow! How did this conversation get so far out in left field?
Bruce is rarely ever floored. It's just the nature of being who he is, doing what he does, and having to appear like none of it ever phases him. Which it very rarely does, that is half the reason it's so hard to strike him out of left field. He's heard it, seen it, or been accused of it... But never that.
NOT IN THIS CONTINUITY! >:(
His glass hovers up near his mouth, eyes turned to the side staring at Lois... Half a second, then several seconds... Then he lowers his drink without taking one and just shakes his head, "Not exactly what I was thinking... Wow.. That's... hah.." Rocking his head back and forth from side to side, "I've never been struck speachless before. Kudos, I think..."
Still blushing brightly, Lois puts her drink down to cover her face with her hands. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. I ... I have no idea where that came from... I ....um.. thanks, I think?" She's still laughing a bit, though the sound is turning a bit more nervous with each passing second. "I just... don't konw why you'd ask something like that and then follow it up with... wanting to meet him... I guess it just.." She spins her fingers in circles near her forehead, then waves them both away from herself, moving to turn away.
"I'm... just going go over here... and enjoy my foot for bit." oh god.
"Hey, it's alright. Don't worry about it." Bruce finally laughs and shakes his head, scratching at the corner of his nose with the curl of one finger, "I guess I had it coming... Just, wasn't expecting that. I was trying to make conversation, is all.. Anyways." Waving a hand dismissively, last little threads of chuckling escaping into the glass of bubbly.
Lois rubs her fingertips into her temples, trying to get that embarassment to go away already. Her eyes drift out to the bay again, as she murmurs, "Twice in a week. I must have 'Superman's Call Girl' stamped on my forehead!" Straightening after another second, Lois turns back to Bruce, smile once more real, eyes again that vulenrable and light.
"I'm really sorry," she offers again, brows drawing together slightly. "Friends?"
"Hey, it's my fault." Bruce reassures her, leaning back into his chair with his face angled up towards the sun. After the moment, he lets his smile return, water under the bridge. He's far to dismissive to be held up over something as simple as a misunderstanding. "I was just curious about the Superman. I mean, guy that selfless... that clean cut? It... well.. That's pretty important... Water under the bridge." Grinning sideways at her, "Definately friends."
With Bruce calling it water under the bridge and dismissing it, Lois calms, her smile returning again. She watches him lean back, admiring briefly before looking back to that grin. That grin that brings a faint bit of color to her cheeks once again.
"He is pretty squeaky," she admits through the blush. She goes quiet a moment, sipping her drink and looking up at the sky.
"Can I ask -you- something, Bruce?"
Bruce handles it with decorum now that they're friends again. Not that they ever 'werent'. He turns and sets his feet flat on the deck off to the side of his lounge chair, reaching for his glass to take another sip.. and wave down one of the wondering waiters for a fresh tumbler. "Sure. But it's off the record, unless you're in reporter mode."
Half grinning sidelong at her. Nodding his thanks to the waitress and settling sideways on the chair. One elbow up, holding his glass between dangling fingers.
"I've been off the record the whole time. I grabbed that charity bit just to keep Perry happy," Lois quips, stalling as she thiks of how to phrase her question so a misundertanding like what she had doesn't happen.
"Why did you ask if he and I were.... together?"
"Curiosity, mostly." Bruce reasons with a half grin and a raised brow, "Could change the nature of what pictures I allow into the tabloids." Which is probably him teasing her, sipping at his drink with a lazy rise of his wrist. "And the expression on your face when you spoke about him." Pointing absently, with a more genuine tone to his voice.
"You like him. Which is good. Right? Or am I reading things all wrong? I have a tendency to do that." No, no he really doesn't.
Lois nods to the curiosity, only to facepalm at the tabloid comment. "Let? Oh, Bruce! Please, don't... Cat's already pestering me about our date in Metropolis. It's all I can do to keep her from printing one of her rambling asks more questions than it answers gossip pieces!" Lois is chuckling however, until Bruce points out that her expression shifts she shen speaks of the Man of Steel.
Blushing, Lois casts about for an answer to cover the denial. "Well.. you'd probably think he was pretty swell too if he saved your life a couple times," she tosses out, only for her mind to sucker punch itself. ('pretty swell!?! Are you from Smallville now?! God, woman!')
"I might be, yeah. But there's more to it." Bruce doesn't seem upset about what he thinks he sees and hears in her description of Superman. Maybe he agrees, or maybe he's just a playboy who understands the score. Hard to compete with something like that. Even if he outwardly tries...
"Then again, I'm fairly well known for my inability to stay connected to any one woman longer than a few days, at most.. So I might be the wrong person to give any sort of advice in that department." Shrugging a shoulder and draining the newest glass of bubbly. "Just seems like something you might want to figure out, is all. Writing on the wall."
To that Lois, sighs and looks into her glass. They're friends, right? "You've got a better social life than I do... much better," she adds with a soft chuckle and a glance at him. "And I"m not looking for advice I just... " She sighs, finally showing that softer edge. "I guess, the truth is... yes I like him. I like him alot, but... I don't know if that's just cause he looks good in the... you kow.. the suit, or if it's cause he can -fly-... or cause he saves my life... But..."
She looks up at Bruce now, and takes a breath. "I'm probably going to want to kill myself after saying this but.... I have no idea if we're really anything at all... or if he just... tolerates me. I turn into a complete moron around him... like a tweleve year old Justin Beiber fangirl. It's horrid.... And the whole time... he's just..." She motions with her hand, trying to find the way to say it, to express that teenaged crush without sounding like a teenaged crush. "...there, smiling. Like... He's the cool kid, and I'm just... some... silly little band geek that he's being nice to cause he's too polite to ..." She look up at Bruce and blushes brightly.
"I'm rambling aren't I?"
"A little." Bruce doesn't seem bothered by it, however. Instead he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, listening to her explain the situation. His fingers are laced together in a loose ball between his legs, "Listen. In my experience, people don't get over anything they don't face up to. Best way to not be terrified of heights is to go to the tallest point you can find and show yourself it's not that bad. Same goes with matters of the heart.. or whatever.." Because he doesn't have one. Just a string of flings.
"If you like him, it doesn't matter /why/ you like him. And if he's tolerating you, then he's not quite as squeeky as you claim he is. So you've got to decide whether you believe your feelings about him or you're just facilitating the image he represents." Ulterior motives? Naw, none here. He's smiling like a friend should. Just offering practical avice, rather than the sympathetic kind. Not that he's harsh about it. "I think you're being to hard on yourself, personally. You're a beautiful, talented, woman. He'd be a fool to pass up on a catch like that, wouldn't he?" Slapping his knuckles against her knee. "Now.."
"That we've got the afternoon soap opera stuff out of the way..."
Did Bruce just say she was talented and beautiful? Lois blushes at that again, but smiles and nods. "Yes, I guess he would..." she murmurs as he knuckles her knee. The change in tempo is just what the doctor ordered, for Lois tables those worries for now. Bruce is nice. Normal. Unpowered, no secrets, no needing her to SIT on a major story, no lies... She smiles brightly, drawn to that honesty and saftey, like it's a much needed breath of fresh air.
"Are we doing something notoriously Bruce Wayne, insanely expensive, and utterly risky?" She chuckles, leaning forward toward him a bit, eyes sparkling. There's that hunt for danger, that adrenaline rush of being in peril.
Of course not. Bruce Wayne is an open book, with all his secrets spelled out on every single page. Her question prompts him to rise form his chair and tilt his head slowly from side to side, "Adventure and excitement.. That's not really what I do..." That, is a lie, but it's an obvious lie, that he's telling for dramatic effect.
"Come on, let's go see if we can talk the ultra rich Gothamites into swimming off the coast of Gotham... for charity, of course." Devilish grin, holding his hand down for Lois.
The obvious lie makes Lois laugh, for she can see the dramatic effect in his motions. Her smile is broad, youthful, and utterly at peace. Reaching up, Lois takes his hand in hers, accepting his help in getting to her feet. She leaves her wrap, phone and all, and with it that reporter's 'always looking for a story' behind on the VIP deck of the Queen Ann. She follows along behind Bruce, hand in his, all too happy to hold on to his hand.
This is a bright day in Gotham indeed, for Lois looks up at Bruce and gives him a nod. Still holding his hand, she quirks a brow, grins with the nose-wrinkle of silent mischief, and shifts to lace her fingers in his.
Bruce holds the woman's hand, leading them down the steps back onto the main deck of the 'party barge' and draws peoples attention with a few stomps of his foot against the plates. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to invite you all to take part in one of the many games planned for the evening!"
Eyes turn towards the pair, cameras start rolling, and the elite all go quiet as he speaks. "As some of you may be aware, we're here to raise money for the literacy program funded by Senator Edwards.." Motioning to the older Senator of New Jersey, "Well, I prepose we raise money for fun, too."
The crew start moving things along the deck, rolling out a 'plank' at the side of one of the hatchways. "A diving compotetion! I'll donate one hundred thousand dollars to the charity choice of the winner.. And I'll even go first."
Grinning sidelong at Lois as he slips his fingers out of her's and moves along infront of her, "Don't go anywhere." Brushing fingers along her side on his way towards the extending planks. "I'll be right back."
And so it goes. The wealth all clamber, canonballs and dives, waving arm splashes, and laughter. In Denver Bay off the coast of Gotham, where the sun never rises.
Lois nods to Bruce as he requests that she wait. Wait she does, laughing and watching. This is amazing. Not because he's Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire; but because this is silly, carefree, unstressful. There's no reason to be worried or hurried or concerned. Bruce's laughter brushes all those darker feelings away with its carefree melody.
Bruce's dive isn't perfect, but it's not sloppy either. He swims pretty regularly and has an Olympic sized pool with regulation board at the Mansion, so he gets a great deal of practice in on his off time... Others dive in after the Playboy makes his splace and climbs back up the rope ladder onto the deck of the ship. "Well, don't hold my hand on it... how was it?" Asked of Lois, drying off his face and hair with a warmed towel offered by one of the wait staff.
Eyeing the playboy, Lois quirks a brow, smirks, then turns to get a pen and a slip of paper from one of the charity collectors. She writes something on the paper, then holds it up.
The card has a little flag drawn on it, with the word 'Russia' printed above it. Then in large print just under the flag is the number '10'.
Bruce laughs outright at the Russian judges score card and nods, "Thanks." Rubbing the towel into his hair, leaving it mostly sticking up in every direction until it's smoothed back down with two clean strokes of his hands along eitherside. "So, when do we get to see the Daily Planet's addition to the compotetion, eh?"
Lois laughs as Bruce's laughing, loving its carelessness. She drops the paper down with the collector, before folding her arms and shaking her head. "Oh, no... I'm not jumping," she states with a broad smile for the very real man at her side. "You'd have to drag me...."
Both arms snap out a little quickly to wrap around Lois' waist, Bruce already directing them towards the extended plank, "Well, when you talk about this... and you will.. remember that you told me to do it." Mostly teasing, he likely wont really toss her in with him if she's adament about not getting wet.
"What?! Wait! No!" Lois scrambles, laughing the whole time. She 'fights' him, in so much as she makes a lot of noise and drags her feet and pushes at his arms, but she doesn't break out with the self-defense classes on him. No, she's rather happy with the closeness, that simple college-days joy of the hot guy, being really down to earth and AWESOME... dragging you to the pool at a frat party. Not that Lois has loads of... oh hell, fine! College was awesome, okay?
When they get to the plank, she squeeks and clings onto him, turning to wrap her arms about his neck. "AH! Bruuce!!!" and KERPLOOSH!
Bruce and Lois go into the rather warm Bay feet first, laughing the whole way down. He's fairly controlled with the fall, managing to keep them from going under too far where the tight coil of her arms would definately become a henderance towards survival if he needed to get them to the surface fast. The crowd collected on the deck all cheer and several flashes of camearas indicate there's going to be some pictures of it..
But Bruce doesn't really mind, coming up in a crest of the surface with both hands sliding back over his hair, spitting water off to the side. "Sorry, it's a swim party, can't stay dry.. those are the rules. I'll have one of the wait staff show you the rulebook once we're back on the boat."
Lois wasn't nearly as controlled in her fall. Looks like she's used to getting caught part way down.
Sputtering faintly, Lois laughs once she breaks the surface, treading water easily at his side, and pushing water from her face with a hand. His quip earns him a splash of water to the face. "And after I gave you a '10', too," she retorts. Laughing, her hand goes to pull the sunglasses off her face. "God. I'm glad these are cheap glasses," she comments to herself.
"I'll buy you some new glasses." Bruce assures her, swimming towards the boat without turning over, using a fluttering stroke of his arms to guide him in that direction. Still grinning when he scoops up to grab the rung and pull himself easily out of the water. One hand dangling down behind him for Lois, "Come on, let's get you a towel."
"You don't have to do that, Bruce. They're just glasses," Lois retorts with a smile, moving to follow him. She's a competent swmmer, won't drown or anything, but she's no well-practiced mermaid princess. She gets to the side of the boat and reaches up to grab his hand, finding her grip slippiery and the angle challenging. "And a martini," she adds. "You realize there were about a dozen cameras on that, right?"
"I've had worse pictures taken of me." Bruce assures her, pulling her easily up out of the water to one of the rungs just beneath him. He crawls up the side of the boat and jumps over the edge with a laugh.. Shaking water from his hair at a group of camera men who put their lense in his face. "Give us a second to get presentable, you heathens..." Finger waving over a waitress, "A dry martini for the lady and a bloody mary for me."
Lois climbs up the ladder with less grace and finesse than Bruce does, and arrives to the deck just as he's ordering drinks. She plops her glasses on the top of her head since water spots are impossible to see through and pushes more water from her face and eyes. 
When the drinks arrive, Lois says thanks, and asks for a towel to dry her shades with. Must re-cover... face.. too late! Rumors of their dating are now being confirmed. Daily Planet has ZERO reason to send one of their top reporters to cover a silly charity function, and Ms Lane, the femme reporter, is NOT known to squeel like a girl and get thrown in the drink. She smiles uncomfortably at it, glancing at Bruce briefly, before seeming to try to hide her drink behind her thigh. Oh, Cat's going to have a field day!
Bruce doesn't mind, but then he's got nothing on the line either. His company has given up trying to control his run away reputation and, as long as he keeps producing positive results, are less inclined to continue wasting effort fighting the inievitable. Instead, he drinks it up. In that casual manner of his, slipping up beside Lois and waving over one of the 'big names' on the boat. "Lois, this is the head of public works and services, Alexander Kimble." Motioning to the older man and his young 'wife'.
"Mr Kimble, Lois Lane. He's up for reelection in November, right?" The man nods and extends his hand to the fairly well known reporter. Speaking in that 'aside whisper' voice that suggests he's about to say something terrible about Bruce, though the man can still hear him.
"What're you doing with the likes of this miscreant, Ms. Lane?" Thumbing to the billionaire, who just laughs.
Lois straightens up as Bruce waves someone over, smile turning 'work mode' in a heartbeat. Keeping the drink lowered and mostly out of sight, the reporter shakes hands with him, brows lifting as the elder gentlemen moves to stage whisper at her.
"Well, Mr. Kimble. Aside from the obvious perks of hanging out with a Wayne, I can't imagine my reason for being near him are anything like your own. You're the head of a department in this great municipality of Gotham, and I'm just a minor reporter taking notes on a small, understated charity event in Delaware Bay," Lois states, voice knife-like and sweet. She blinks, almost innocently, and looks to the young lady at his side, "Is this your daughter?"
Kimble rolls with the biting as easily as Bruce does, both men laughing rather heartily at Lois' comment, "This one is definately out of your league, Bruce." Slapping the younger man on the arm. "Maybe.. She's from the mean streets of Metropolis. They're all out of our league." Smirking distantly and side longing at Lois.
The Man does answer her questions though, "No ma'am, this is my wife. My better half really." Wrapping an arm around the woman's shoulders, "But I'm sure you've just made her night... I wont get myself in trouble by telling her real age." Which gets him a 'good boy' smile from the young looking lady beside him.
They both filter off towards the dance floor and Bruce shakes his head, "You sure I can't offer you a job as my public relations consultant? That was brutal..." So why's he grinning. He is grinning, in that casually easy way of his.
Lois blinks. What.... just happened? I mean... in Metropolis... that would have earned her a scathing retort, and at least a little dirt. But here... Lois smiles through the confusion, noting the smirks and chuckles of the men. She gives the couple a nod, then levels a dirty look at Bruce.
"You couldn't afford me," Lois states flatly in reply, eyes narrowed, even if she is grinning a bit lopsidedly.
The Gotham scene is a whole lot different from that over in the City of Tomorrow. The back biting between politicians is worn on their sleeves and most of them are as dirty as a swamp. So it doesn't bother them when someone calls them out on the 'small' indiscression.
Bruce, for his part, glances off at some of the other guests and bobs his head easily from side to side. "Probably not. Then again, who knows.. You let me know if you ever want to put in a resume. We'll discuss fee later."
Lois shakes her head at him, annoyance sliding away, it leaving her laughing. "You're incorrigible," she accuses.
Category:Logs
Category:RPLogs