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“You ever seen underneath?” Catman asks, his gaze pointed up at him. For a moment, Bruce contemplated what underneath was.
“I have.” He makes a point to keep his voice low, not wanting to be overheard, or give Catman the idea this conversion meant something to him.
“Anything good?”
“If you see the mask, you’ve seen enough.” Bruce says, honest. Short, but honest. Khoa’s stupid mask has always been an extension of himself, another building block. It would take some time for Bruce to truly piece this understanding of Khoa’s shapeshifting together, simply knowing Khoa was a psychopath wasn’t enough. His belief that they were not truly one and the same had to be rattled to its core before Bruce could truly attempt to understand.
“I don't suppose you know from experience?” Bruce looks back over to Catman from where his eyes had shifted, then back to Khoa's sleeping form. Next to him, Lawton—“Floyd”—the same. Catman is looking too.
“Yes.” At this point, Bruce wasn’t quite sure why he was telling Catman of all people this. Staking his claim maybe, something Catman could understand. He could have Lawton for all Bruce cared, he could even have a ripoff Batman design, just not Khoa. Not while he was here.
“Hm, I think we’re a little too similar for him to get much outta me now.”
“We are not similar.”
“You don’t think Catman and Batman are similar? Clearly we have the same tastes.” He says, smirk growing.
Bruce takes in a breath to respond, about to point out the ocean of differences that lays between them. The professionalism alone is enough to divide them for an eternity. But then the word tastes floats its way to the front of his mind, and Bruce fights the urge not to look at Khoa, or Lawton.
It’s a misconception on Catman’s part, really. Bruce does not care for Floyd that way. The chain-smoking gunman was hardly Bruce's type. He doubts even a younger Bruce would like much of what Floyd puts down. Khoa, on the other hand, is much different. Bruce is sure, very sure, Catman’s surface level attraction is nothing compared to the depth of love and hurt Bruce has.
“Not denying it, eh?” Catman says, filling the silence Bruce left, “You know I never really thought… though I probably should’ve. We both do the same thing I guess, I can tell you put a lot of work into your costume.”
“It's a suit.”
“Right, right. Well two things can be true at once.”
“He’s got a point,” Khoa chimes in. His voice huskier from sleep—a sound, Bruce distantly notes, he hasn’t heard in years.
“Would you call your suit a costume, Ghostmaker?” Bruce says.
“Initially? No. But Thomas and I already discussed this. In the vigilante world, we identify ourselves through costume.” Bruce knows this tone from Khoa, the one that appreciates the artistic side of their work. He also knows Khoa is annoying him on purpose, with his eyes half shut looking back at Bruce, mouth tugged into a smirk.
"Hm," Bruce just grunts.