Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick tick.
The nearly silent analogue time upon Jack's wrist never seemed to cease. The noise resounding in his ears only made his nerves tighten as each new second came and passed. He quickly glanced at his watch.
11:03.
He was three minutes late already, and doubt sunk into his heart like a blade stabbing at it repeatedly until there was no more blood left. Tension grew in the back of his throat.
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
11:10.
Ten minutes late.
He began to fidget, biting at his nails and looking around every few seconds as if he were waiting for any sign, knowing he would have heard if someone had entered the vicinity. He sighed. I should have known better to trust his word.
That fucking asshole.
I'll kill him once he finally gets back here.
Unless he decided to just leave...
11:26.
What the fuck is taking him so long?
11:41
He shook himself awake at the sound of tire upon gravel, removing the left side of his face from his palm where the black town car finally pulled around the circle of his home. Jack stared at his watch again, sneering. Nearly an hour late, Bruce Wayne knew he had some explaining to do.
He took a deep breath before exiting the car.
"Jack, I'm sorry, something came up and..."
Great, he's glaring at me.
"We still have time."
Jack stared at the rocks in the driveway, clearly not giving a shit about any excuse he might have.
Bruce sighed deeply, somewhat annoyed at how much of a child this new man could be. He stepped around the car, sitting on the stairs to the front door, beside Jack. Jack flinched slightly, turning his attention away.
He's trying to make me feel bad. Ugh.
He cleared his throat, "So...I noticed you used the makeup kit."
Bruce faked a smile to nobody in particular. "It looks good."
Jack sneered loudly.
Keep your patience...
"It looks like it might've taken a while to apply. It would really be a waste for making you put on all of that expensive makeup and then having to take it right back off, hmm?" He held his breath as he patted Jack's back, making him shudder under Bruce's touch.
Seal the deal.
Bruce grunted as he stood up, "Well, then. If you don't want to leave then I'll see you inside?" He suggested, opening the door slightly, waiting for a reaction.
Jack frowned. I hate him.
"Fine."
Reluctant against anything Bruce Wayne said or did, and battling with his own sense of freedom, Jack sighed and seated himself in the passenger side of the old Lincoln car. The billionaire trotted to the drivers side, sliding himself in.
He slapped both hands on the steering wheel. "Where do you want to go?"
The blond adjusted himself, suddenly feeling awkward. Always wanting freedom and dreaming of leaving the Wayne house was constantly at the top of his wish list, but never gave any thought to what he could do with it once it was accomplished. He shrugged.
