Alfred let out a soft chuckle at the threat. He didn’t doubt for a moment that the boy would tie him down if needed. He’d taught him well hadn’t he?
The butler listened but didn’t really hear Bruce talking on the phone. The doctor. He was calling Dr. Thompkins. She was a beautiful woman wasn’t she? He recalled the night at the children’s benefit. A small light in an otherwise horrific night.
His eyes opened again when he felt the touch to his chest. “ ‘Course I can..” He muttered and a trembling hand reached up to accept the pills that were offered. The older man didn’t even question what they were. Just popped them into his mouth, took a sip of the water and swallowed. How long had it hurt to swallow like that?
“Look at you.. taking care of me..”
The thought made him smile a little. Sometimes it felt good just to know that Bruce cared for him as much as he cared about the boy. That this wasn’t one sided. They were really family. He wasn’t just the hired help.
“You’re a good boy, Bruce.” He mumbled, the cool rag against his neck bringing a soft sigh.
Relieved, he watched the butler take and swallow the pills. Good, it was a start at least. "What goes around comes around, right?" he replied to Alfred's comment about Bruce caring for him. All those times this man had cared for him, looked after him, FOUGHT for him--the least Bruce could do was give him a couple pills and insist that he rest. Honestly.
Being called a good boy, however, actually made Bruce chuckle a bit as he took the glass of water and set it aside. "You of all people would say that," he smirked as the cool rag rested upon Alfred's neck. He knew he was trouble; Bruce would make no efforts to argue innocence with the one person who truly knew and understood him inside and out.
"And maybe, once you're better," he continued, making himself comfortable on the nearby settee, "we could take a holiday. You can only be stabbed and shot so many times before you deserve at least one vacation, right? No butlering allowed. We'll let someone else busy themselves with that. Just you and relaxation."
He arched a brow, though, almost mischievously. "If you think you can handle that, of course." Would Alfred even be able to not work? Or would the idea of relaxation just make him stir crazy?
