[He likes simplicity. He likes honesty too, and directness. Bruce doesn't always trust those qualities because too often he's found that they're skin deep- that they're worn like a suit jacket, put on for special purposes and special occasions. And perhaps it's unfair to like them in the first place, when he rarely embodies those qualities himself.]

Be careful not to wade in while you're building. Something lives in the waterways.
A few people have died that way.

[To the uninitiated this might sound like discouragement or disapproval- but it couldn't be further from the truth. A bridge would be useful, allow people without metahuman abilities to access larger areas and explore new locations. Bruce is responding with the best armor he can provide: knowledge, information. It is not the only way for a person to perish here in Beacon, but all bodies of water present a special kind of danger. Not all spirit attacks will snuff out a flame.

The shards of glass that Bruce keeps hidden beside his bed, the remains of Jim Gordon's lantern- are a testament to that.

The thought surfaces, and Bruce quietly closes it away. Another time. Another place.
Not here.

Bruce considers the garden instead, watches the easy, optimistic smile settle on Clark's mouth, watches his hands come to rest between his legs. It's a good sign, he thinks. The readiness to act. The sense of community. The corner of his own mouth tugs, an echo.]

But I can't say I'd complain about fresh produce. There's a worrying number of pickle jars collecting in the general store.

With so much on your agenda I realize it's in very poor taste. But I'm here to ask for a favor.