Fifth Floor Common Room, Sunday afternoon

[willbethenight.livejournal.com]

After a jog through the new town Fandom had attached itself to, Bruce was feeling unsettled (but in a very different way than he felt a couple weeks ago). It seemed to be a nice enough place - a place where no child would have to worry about his parents being gunned down in front of his eyes, in fact - but the place wasn't normal. You could tell by the animals. If that many cats went into that many trees and refused to come down without a man dressed in a suit that allowed him to fight fires going after them, there was a reason. Just not a malicious reason, unless the people were very big on the idea of killing with kindness.

Anyway, Bruce needed a counter to all of this wholesomeness, so he went to the common room and hoped for a crime documentary of some sort. Instead, the TV locked onto Baketball Wives. It was less wholesome, but it was also brain deadening. That wasn't what Bruce wanted at all.

[OOC: I have a headache, but I'm bored. And so, common room!]