"Alright then, sunshine. You raise those fists and show me what you got."
It had been a while and with all the partying and messing about, he wasn't sure if Bruce had kept up his training. Probably not, given that everything else had been put on the backburn while he went to the wild side and got all boozed up with whatever mindless idiots he could find. Alfred supposed every boy was allowed a rebellion once or twice in their lives, as long as they knew how to find their way back. He raised his own arms, getting into a boxer stance and hoping a little playful training would get them past that last ugly time they had a swing at each other. He kept his tone light, just being that little bit careful.
"It's a friendly so let's go easy, just a warm up. No need to knock each other's teeth out showing off, yeah?"
Bruce had definitely not kept up his training. It was part of the vigilante lifestyle that he had intended on leaving behind, after all. Besides, with all the drinking and women, the partying, there was simply little time for anything else. Not to say that he can't hold his own but that's not exactly good enough now, is it?
He rolls up his sleeves and raises his fists, blocking his face like Alfred had taught him years ago when their training started. Friendly bit of training, that's all. That's all this is. Nothing like the last time they squared off, when Bruce started to let his own life fall apart.
"After all that partying you've been up to? Surprised your brain isn't pickled by all that booze you've been knocking back."
Alfred finds it hard to make the first move. After last time, the way he'd hurt him before, it's hard to take a swing at him and not feel wrong. It was a sensitive issue still. He knows one of them has to act and he does, throwing him an easy right hook and expecting Bruce to block as usual. A few practise hits were all they need to get into a rhythm again.
"Which, by the way, you can cut right out." It's probably not the best time to breech the subject of drinking while fighting but since when has anything Alfred done ever been conventional? "You're not gonna be saving anyone if you're arse over tit, are you?"
The end of who he had become up until that point in his life. Everyone has a tipping point and after years of pain and suffering, Bruce Wayne had finally found his. Unfortunately, no one does a downward spiral quite like a teenage billionaire. Being the richest man in Gotham made it only too easy to self-destruct.
Bruce does indeed block the hit, throwing a right of his own. He can already feel himself loosening up a little. A friendly sparring match instead of an all out brawl full of anger and pain feels... well, can he really call anything normal at this point?
"You'll be happy to know that I've decided it's time I left that life behind." Looking back on it now - what he can remember of it - he's not sure he likes the person he became, even if it had been useful at the time.
Catching the returned blow, Alfred ducks to the side, avoiding whatever potential move Bruce was going to throw next and trying to take control of the fight - he wants to get Bruce good and worked up. He lightly jabs at him a few times, just to provoke a better blow, to get him in the spirit of things. This was a better way to work out issues than whatever Bruce had been up to lately. And clearly he needs this.
"Look, you're not the first person to lose themselves in a drink and you won't be the last." Alfred had definitely been there himself. "You think there's a bloke alive who hasn't thought of drowning their sorrows? It's an easy out."
And that was why it's not the best move for Bruce. He needs to confront his problems, to express them and not bury them. "It's not a good one though. Just a lot of regret. Speaking from experience, of course."
Talking with someone he can be entirely open with and doing something more productive with his time than getting black-out drunk and buying exotic birds (and clubs, and whatever else piqued his interest at the time) is definitely something that Bruce needs right now. A much healthier way to work through some of his many issues.
It doesn't take long for the jabs to start getting to him, and his growing frustration shows with his next swing, much more aggressive than the last. Though at least this time, unlike the last time they fought, he isn't looking to hurt Alfred, just to actually land a blow. Aggression without the anger.
"I wanted the easy way out." He swings again. Confront problems. That's part of the issue. Ever since the murder of his parents, Bruce has been taking more and more to bottling things up, burying them in a place where they'll only bother him. "I had regrets already." At least when he drank, he didn't remember a lot of what he did. "Though I do certainly have more now."
There it is, that spark. The frustration is building but he notices that it's not like it was the last time, blind rage and a desire to hurt. It's easy to tell just to look in his eyes - he knows Bruce well enough to know what he's going for. He staggers back a little as he blocks the upcoming swing, feet twisting on the ground to maintain his stance.
Boxing was a lot easier when not in dress shoes.
"I bet you regret that bloody parrot or whatever it is cluttering up the conservatory. Loud little bugger, ain't it? We should really give back to whatever geezer duped you into that one." It's so easy to talk a drunk man into anything, he's not surprised over half the crap Bruce has collected. He just thinks they have to consider a clear out. "Couldn't have gotten us something useful - like a nice holiday somewhere sunny." Just saying. He pushes Bruce back to make some space, jabbing him low and baiting out a stronger response, a smirk on his face. "You never take me anywhere nice."
Boxing is definitely easier when dressed proper, but one needs to be able to defend oneself no matter the situation, isn't that right?
Bruce grimaces when Alfred mentions the bird. It's one thing to think of his own drunken mistakes, but to talk about them is another matter entirely. That means he has to properly acknowledge them, actually confront them. Yes, he knows that he needs to confront all of these things before he can move past them (not confronting and truly acknowledging issues are part of what got him into the whole mess in the first place) but a talking bird is a literal reminder of a night he can't remember, repeating things that he has no recollection of saying. It's... eerie.
"We'll have to find him-" Bruce stumbles a little when Alfred pushes him back, almost losing his footing entirely. "We'll have to find him a new home. I don't quite remember where he came from." He twists a little when Alfred jabs at him yet again, growing more and more frustrated. Though it's mostly with the fact that he allowed himself to get out of practice, that he let himself miss the easy dodges.
Bruce hunches down low and narrows his eyes. "I took you to Switzerland." Well, it was a few years ago, but still. There's a small smirk from Bruce before he lunges at Alfred, intent on tackling him to the floor. Not all fights will remain fair boxing matches, after all.
"Of course we will. We're not running a blinking zoo, are we? I never did like pets. They're all cute until you have to pick up after them. Like kids." Like young master Bruce, now an angst, messy teenager. What a ride. He means that as a tease and it's clear, the humour is there in his eyes as he plays around with Bruce, enjoying the way he ducked and dodged himself, the way he tries to desperately to land a hit.
It's entertaining ... until Bruce takes a charge. Okay, yeah, he deserved that for messing with him, there's no lie but damn, his back is so not built the way it used to. This kind of punishment is a young man's game.
"Christ." He wheezes and no, it's not over. Not by a long shot. He grips Bruce and in one swift move, he rolls them over and gives him a stern look. "Oi! You watch it. You break my back, you clean your own clothes."
"Try to at least teach the bird a few new phrases before you find him a new home. I'd prefer the new owners not have so much evidence of my indiscretions." More evidence than Gotham, itself, already has. From what he remembers through the drunken haze, he made quite the spectacle of himself. There's a small smile when he says it though. The image in his mind of Alfred trying to train a bird is a good one, especially after the comment about pets and kids.
Bruce looks relatively pleased when he gets Alfred on the floor. It's not terribly often that he's managed to gain the upper hand on Alfred, at least without the butler allowing it. Which isn't really gaining the upper hand at all. It tends to take away from the joy of it when it's simply handed to you. When Bruce was younger, he still enjoyed it nonetheless, and definitely felt a great sense of pride (and it certainly helped his confidence). But now, it's much more satisfying to earn it for real.
Unfortunately, that satisfaction comes at a price. He should have been paying closer attention to Alfred instead of inwardly gloating. He might have been able to counter if he had been.
"Consider that you're own little pet project. You don't pay me enough to talk to a bird all sodding afternoon like I've got nothing better to do." Yeah, if he had to do a task like that, he'd likely lose his mind doing it. How frustratingly thankless, it'd be like talking to a rude teenager with a very limited vocabulary and he had enough of that from Bruce when he was sulking.
He huffs out a laugh at Bruce's answer and sits back, unable to help himself because it's hard to fight when Bruce is like this. Endearing little blighter sometimes, this one. It really throws him.
"You can't just buy new clothes whenever the old one's get dirty. That's the sheer definition of lazy and you raise you better than that."
Bruce considers comments about paying Alfred more, or simply hiring an animal trainer but neither sees the light of day, so to speak. What it all really boils down to is that this isn't a mess that Alfred should be cleaning up for him. Bruce did this so he needs to fix it. Alfred already does more than enough for him, after all.
Pulling himself away from Alfred, Bruce sits up on his knees and manages a small smile for his friend (the friend he's very glad to have back. The friend that he came very close to driving out of his life forever. Despite his want and need for Alfred's return, Bruce wouldn't have blamed him one bit for not giving in, for deciding to part from Bruce permanently). He'll consider this a win, even if it did come with what could be seen as an underhanded tactic. But such things are necessary out in the real world, aren't they?
"Buying new clothes all the time sounds a little too ... socialite, anyway." For the usually rather reclusive Bruce Wayne, that is. Despite recent evidence, of course. He'd much rather keep to himself for the most part. "So we should keep you from getting too hurt, shouldn't we?"
Then he looks down at his hands, smile fading. Speaking of hurt... "I'm sorry Alfred, for the way I've treated you recently. You didn't deserve any of that. You were only trying to help me."
"Now, come on, we weren't gonna talk about it." Clearly the healthy option. Alfred never did well with the emotional talks, the softer side of parenting. Cause in a manner of speaking, that was what he was doing. Parenting. And he loved this kid, with all his heart, but it was never easy for him to know how to handle these kind of things. Part of him always wondered how Thomas would have handled it - or even Martha, actually.
Reaching out idly, he sets his hand on Bruce's shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. "If you were never going to blow your top and make a total mess out of everything at some point, I would have been more concerned. You've been dragged through the shit for the last ... what? Four years? More? It was bound to happen. I expected it, just -- not so much the whole master assassin and mystical Jacuzzi part."
Or whatever that Ra's bloke called it. Lazarus pit? Whatever. That part he didn't see coming, none of that. But Bruce having a meltdown was on the cards for some time. "We all make mistakes. And you know I forgive you so we don't have to keep going in circles over it, do we? It's okay."
omg remember when i wasn't the worst at replying to things? I'M SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT!
That may be true about Alfred, but he does well. Besides, he wasn't exactly hired for his parenting expertise. And it isn't as though Bruce has really been big on the emotional talks. Had he been more open about things, he may not have cracked like he did after everything that happened. If he'd taken the chance to get even some of his feelings out into the open, things might have turned out a little differently. That's all on Bruce though. That has nothing to do with Alfred. The man did the best he could. (Bruce doesn't even want to think about how either of his parents would have handled it, because his doesn't want imagine how disappointed they would have been in him. Acting the way he had, all but making a total mockery of the Wayne. For once, he's almost glad that his parents weren't around. Though would any of that happened if they had been?)
"If you had expected everything with Ra's and the Lazarus Pit, Alfred, I think you'd be more cause for concern than me." It's true that Bruce has been through hell in these last years, ever since his parents' murder. It's been just one thing after another, going from bad to worse. But Bruce thought he was stronger than all of that. Everyone has a breaking point though, and Bruce was not only pushed to his, but well beyond it.
Bruce shakes his head. "I'm not sure I deserve your forgiveness, but I appreciate it all the same." Of course if Alfred can forgive Bruce for running in through with a sword, there's probably a lot be can forgive.
Climbing to his feet, Bruce idly brushes off his pants then offers a hand to Alfred to help him up. "Let's go again."
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no subject
It had been a while and with all the partying and messing about, he wasn't sure if Bruce had kept up his training. Probably not, given that everything else had been put on the backburn while he went to the wild side and got all boozed up with whatever mindless idiots he could find. Alfred supposed every boy was allowed a rebellion once or twice in their lives, as long as they knew how to find their way back. He raised his own arms, getting into a boxer stance and hoping a little playful training would get them past that last ugly time they had a swing at each other. He kept his tone light, just being that little bit careful.
"It's a friendly so let's go easy, just a warm up. No need to knock each other's teeth out showing off, yeah?"
no subject
He rolls up his sleeves and raises his fists, blocking his face like Alfred had taught him years ago when their training started. Friendly bit of training, that's all. That's all this is. Nothing like the last time they squared off, when Bruce started to let his own life fall apart.
"Afraid I'll gain the upper hand?"
no subject
Alfred finds it hard to make the first move. After last time, the way he'd hurt him before, it's hard to take a swing at him and not feel wrong. It was a sensitive issue still. He knows one of them has to act and he does, throwing him an easy right hook and expecting Bruce to block as usual. A few practise hits were all they need to get into a rhythm again.
"Which, by the way, you can cut right out." It's probably not the best time to breech the subject of drinking while fighting but since when has anything Alfred done ever been conventional? "You're not gonna be saving anyone if you're arse over tit, are you?"
no subject
The end of who he had become up until that point in his life. Everyone has a tipping point and after years of pain and suffering, Bruce Wayne had finally found his. Unfortunately, no one does a downward spiral quite like a teenage billionaire. Being the richest man in Gotham made it only too easy to self-destruct.
Bruce does indeed block the hit, throwing a right of his own. He can already feel himself loosening up a little. A friendly sparring match instead of an all out brawl full of anger and pain feels... well, can he really call anything normal at this point?
"You'll be happy to know that I've decided it's time I left that life behind." Looking back on it now - what he can remember of it - he's not sure he likes the person he became, even if it had been useful at the time.
no subject
"Look, you're not the first person to lose themselves in a drink and you won't be the last." Alfred had definitely been there himself. "You think there's a bloke alive who hasn't thought of drowning their sorrows? It's an easy out."
And that was why it's not the best move for Bruce. He needs to confront his problems, to express them and not bury them. "It's not a good one though. Just a lot of regret. Speaking from experience, of course."
no subject
It doesn't take long for the jabs to start getting to him, and his growing frustration shows with his next swing, much more aggressive than the last. Though at least this time, unlike the last time they fought, he isn't looking to hurt Alfred, just to actually land a blow. Aggression without the anger.
"I wanted the easy way out." He swings again. Confront problems. That's part of the issue. Ever since the murder of his parents, Bruce has been taking more and more to bottling things up, burying them in a place where they'll only bother him. "I had regrets already." At least when he drank, he didn't remember a lot of what he did. "Though I do certainly have more now."
no subject
Boxing was a lot easier when not in dress shoes.
"I bet you regret that bloody parrot or whatever it is cluttering up the conservatory. Loud little bugger, ain't it? We should really give back to whatever geezer duped you into that one." It's so easy to talk a drunk man into anything, he's not surprised over half the crap Bruce has collected. He just thinks they have to consider a clear out. "Couldn't have gotten us something useful - like a nice holiday somewhere sunny." Just saying. He pushes Bruce back to make some space, jabbing him low and baiting out a stronger response, a smirk on his face. "You never take me anywhere nice."
no subject
Bruce grimaces when Alfred mentions the bird. It's one thing to think of his own drunken mistakes, but to talk about them is another matter entirely. That means he has to properly acknowledge them, actually confront them. Yes, he knows that he needs to confront all of these things before he can move past them (not confronting and truly acknowledging issues are part of what got him into the whole mess in the first place) but a talking bird is a literal reminder of a night he can't remember, repeating things that he has no recollection of saying. It's... eerie.
"We'll have to find him-" Bruce stumbles a little when Alfred pushes him back, almost losing his footing entirely. "We'll have to find him a new home. I don't quite remember where he came from." He twists a little when Alfred jabs at him yet again, growing more and more frustrated. Though it's mostly with the fact that he allowed himself to get out of practice, that he let himself miss the easy dodges.
Bruce hunches down low and narrows his eyes. "I took you to Switzerland." Well, it was a few years ago, but still. There's a small smirk from Bruce before he lunges at Alfred, intent on tackling him to the floor. Not all fights will remain fair boxing matches, after all.
no subject
It's entertaining ... until Bruce takes a charge. Okay, yeah, he deserved that for messing with him, there's no lie but damn, his back is so not built the way it used to. This kind of punishment is a young man's game.
"Christ." He wheezes and no, it's not over. Not by a long shot. He grips Bruce and in one swift move, he rolls them over and gives him a stern look. "Oi! You watch it. You break my back, you clean your own clothes."
Take that.
no subject
Bruce looks relatively pleased when he gets Alfred on the floor. It's not terribly often that he's managed to gain the upper hand on Alfred, at least without the butler allowing it. Which isn't really gaining the upper hand at all. It tends to take away from the joy of it when it's simply handed to you. When Bruce was younger, he still enjoyed it nonetheless, and definitely felt a great sense of pride (and it certainly helped his confidence). But now, it's much more satisfying to earn it for real.
Unfortunately, that satisfaction comes at a price. He should have been paying closer attention to Alfred instead of inwardly gloating. He might have been able to counter if he had been.
"I can buy new clothes."
no subject
He huffs out a laugh at Bruce's answer and sits back, unable to help himself because it's hard to fight when Bruce is like this. Endearing little blighter sometimes, this one. It really throws him.
"You can't just buy new clothes whenever the old one's get dirty. That's the sheer definition of lazy and you raise you better than that."
no subject
Pulling himself away from Alfred, Bruce sits up on his knees and manages a small smile for his friend (the friend he's very glad to have back. The friend that he came very close to driving out of his life forever. Despite his want and need for Alfred's return, Bruce wouldn't have blamed him one bit for not giving in, for deciding to part from Bruce permanently). He'll consider this a win, even if it did come with what could be seen as an underhanded tactic. But such things are necessary out in the real world, aren't they?
"Buying new clothes all the time sounds a little too ... socialite, anyway." For the usually rather reclusive Bruce Wayne, that is. Despite recent evidence, of course. He'd much rather keep to himself for the most part. "So we should keep you from getting too hurt, shouldn't we?"
Then he looks down at his hands, smile fading. Speaking of hurt... "I'm sorry Alfred, for the way I've treated you recently. You didn't deserve any of that. You were only trying to help me."
no subject
Reaching out idly, he sets his hand on Bruce's shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. "If you were never going to blow your top and make a total mess out of everything at some point, I would have been more concerned. You've been dragged through the shit for the last ... what? Four years? More? It was bound to happen. I expected it, just -- not so much the whole master assassin and mystical Jacuzzi part."
Or whatever that Ra's bloke called it. Lazarus pit? Whatever. That part he didn't see coming, none of that. But Bruce having a meltdown was on the cards for some time. "We all make mistakes. And you know I forgive you so we don't have to keep going in circles over it, do we? It's okay."
omg remember when i wasn't the worst at replying to things? I'M SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT!
"If you had expected everything with Ra's and the Lazarus Pit, Alfred, I think you'd be more cause for concern than me." It's true that Bruce has been through hell in these last years, ever since his parents' murder. It's been just one thing after another, going from bad to worse. But Bruce thought he was stronger than all of that. Everyone has a breaking point though, and Bruce was not only pushed to his, but well beyond it.
Bruce shakes his head. "I'm not sure I deserve your forgiveness, but I appreciate it all the same." Of course if Alfred can forgive Bruce for running in through with a sword, there's probably a lot be can forgive.
Climbing to his feet, Bruce idly brushes off his pants then offers a hand to Alfred to help him up. "Let's go again."