[Maybe he's very trusting by nature. Maybe he doesn't believe that he has much to lose. The citizens of Gotham can hardly be called the norm, he knows that their experiences skew both statistically and personally. People in Beacon seem to fall all over the map- some more private than others, some ready and willing to cooperate.
Bruce's fingers touch the fabric of his shirt, gently separating the pieces of the torn material so that he can widen the gap enough for a look beneath. Each exhale tightens the gashes and each inhale draws them open; blood trickles in dark, narrow streams around the rhythm. The angle doesn't taper the way he might expect in a chase, the way Bruce's own have when he'd been unable to outmaneuver a knife in its entirety. It's. Interesting. But within the context of people here in Beacon, with varying abilities and strengths, from different times and places and even worlds- It's something to think on later. Something to remember.
Instead he's aware of the way the man keeps his gaze averted, the cadence of his breath that appears even and suggests an absence of fear or panic. They're good signs, if also strange.] I don't think you'll need stitches.
[He says instead, carefully withdrawing. And then one hand goes to the place between his own shoulderblades and Bruce begins to pull his sweater off. He's worn layers so there is infact another long-sleeved shirt underneath, but this will suit their purposes. He folds it up before extending it, pressing it to the man's side with the wordless encouragement that he hold it there and maintain pressure.]
I have medical supplies. Will you be able to walk?
no subject
Bruce's fingers touch the fabric of his shirt, gently separating the pieces of the torn material so that he can widen the gap enough for a look beneath. Each exhale tightens the gashes and each inhale draws them open; blood trickles in dark, narrow streams around the rhythm. The angle doesn't taper the way he might expect in a chase, the way Bruce's own have when he'd been unable to outmaneuver a knife in its entirety. It's. Interesting. But within the context of people here in Beacon, with varying abilities and strengths, from different times and places and even worlds- It's something to think on later. Something to remember.
Instead he's aware of the way the man keeps his gaze averted, the cadence of his breath that appears even and suggests an absence of fear or panic. They're good signs, if also strange.] I don't think you'll need stitches.
[He says instead, carefully withdrawing. And then one hand goes to the place between his own shoulderblades and Bruce begins to pull his sweater off. He's worn layers so there is infact another long-sleeved shirt underneath, but this will suit their purposes. He folds it up before extending it, pressing it to the man's side with the wordless encouragement that he hold it there and maintain pressure.]
I have medical supplies. Will you be able to walk?