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When Bruce first met her, he couldn’t speak. It felt like his throat closed up, and his heart briefly stopped when his eyes landed on Betty. She was paired alongside Bruce early on, and they established a friendly enough relationship.
He’s more than happy to say it’s developed into a friendship.
Every day, he categorizes the new things he learns about her. The list trails like a snail in his head.
She’s afraid of heights. She listens to piano music to concentrate. She hates the sound of metal scratching metal. She wishes her father had been more present. She loves honey in greek yogurt. She likes to listen to Bruce tell bad jokes.
(Or, at least, he hopes she does.)
When she leaves, Bruce never wants her to go. It’s a… new feeling; something he’ll have to adjust to. He tries his best not to stare at her. It has to be her decision. He wouldn’t want to push her.
But, there’s something… ethereal about her.
He couldn’t explain it if he tried.
She never just speaks; she sings. Her presence is as soothing as the autumn wind. Stars burst in her eyes. Everything Betty touches dissolves into glitter and gold. Her skin is electricity. Her mind is lightning. Earth caves beneath her every footstep. Reality itself feels utterly unimportant in her midst.
And, when she looks at him, she smiles and tilts her head. Curiosity overtakes her next, subtle but undeniable.
He’s never met anyone like Betty.
Bruce can only hope he isn’t imagining her.