Bruce leaned against a countertop, sipping on a mixed drink of his own devising. The sword 
sheath he carried around lay empty on a stool next to him, and, of course, there was no sword for said sheath in sight. He hid a rare smile behind the lip of his glass, enjoying the combination of fiery alcohol and sweet cola. The smile quickly vanished once he opened his eyes again and took stock once more of the people milling around in the so-called “Diver’s Paradise.” 
These people, most of them, walked with stunted confidence and fake smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. The forced levity failed to mask the heavy feeling of dread in the chamber’s atmosphere. 
“Bruce!”
Before he could think for too long about anything that might make him regret having ready access to booze, he heard his name being called by a familiar voice. Luke was one of the people Bruce considered a friend, and he didn’t have many of those. He could more or less tell, without really listening to what Luke was shouting at him, his request. Bruce took his time, swirling his drink and sizing up the new face that Luke was apparently so excited about- did they have the same jawline? He shrugged and downed the remainder of his drink and slamming it onto the counter. Whatever happened in anyone’s past, it wasn’t his place to judge. 
Bruce picked up his empty sheath and strapped it to his waist before walking over to acquaint himself with the man in yellow. 
[color=0072bc]“Welcome.”[/color] he said simply.