As usual, I don't own. I just like to test drive 'em once in a while.
A six line scene on Wednesday. Imagine that.
(Lays with one leg off the couch, boot touching the floor. One arm is draped over the mid section of her golden armor. She stares up at the florescent lights in the ceiling.)
He thinks I'm… loose. That much goes without saying.
You can see it in his eyes. Not in his eyes. You can't see his eyes. But… the way his brow furrows. Beneath the cowl. I'm just saying… I get a sense. Every time I… look at someone. I can feel his brow furrowing from across the room.
(Hands folded placidly on his lap.)
Have you ever considered… discussing this with him.
What is there to discuss? His brow furrows in my direction, and I stare back at him, and he lodges his contempt, and I lodge my contempt with his contempt, and then we just… stare. It's not like anything productive will ever come out of it. He is, after all, the Batman. Which is as frustrating as sharing even a passing glance at Arthur, who simply assumed that you would ponder deeply whatever crude comment you would imagine that he'd say, and was hoping that you'd hit him in advance.
(Wipes a hand over her eyes)
And then everyone wonders why I'm staring at Trevor.
(With incredible patience)
Why DO you stare at Trevor?
(Looks to MANHUNTER quickly, then back up to the ceiling.)
Well, he stares back, certainly. And there're no smart remarks and no furrowed brows. And sometimes… when the world is not coming to an end, and we're not being chased around the 1940's by Nazi's and dinosaurs…
(Draws in a deep breath)
We just talk.