damned_institute | Day 43: Game Room, Third Shift

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Day 43: Game Room, Third Shift

Peh. "Graduates." Who were they trying to fool? It's not like anyone here believed them, and no one ever visited the institute. What was the point in keeping up this sad little charade? To add to the realism of it? Well, whatever. If they wanted to continue this exercise in futility, that was fine with Porky. All it meant was that they spent more time focusing on the day instead of the night, which was definitely a good thing. Now, who was Porky supposed to meet in the Game Room again? Ah, that's right. Porky didn't know...

No matter. It's not like they would be able to hurt Porky or something in broad daylight. Then again, there were some more...savage patients here. Well, Porky was sure that none of them would be interested in meeting with Porky anyway.

While he waited for his mysterious contact, Porky grabbed a gameboy and started looking for a game to pop in.

...No Zelda, no Mario, no Kirby...What was wrong with Landel? Did he have no taste whatsoever? Porky kept looking for something he had actually heard of before, and eventually settled on...Tetris. How dreadfully boring. Well, no matter. As long as he didn't have to play a board game or something, Porky was content. After turning on the gameboy, Porky merely sat down and played, eagerly anticipating whoever had asked to meet with him.

[For Eva, I think~]

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Grell might run a little towards the side of over the top sometimes, but that didn't mean he was automatically dangerous or that he deserved anything that had happened to him. Or that his feelings were any less genuine than someone like Bats, who didn't show as much when something was bothering him. Or any other time, really.

So when Grell pulled back and seemed actually upset about all the accusations, Wally half rose out of his chair and reached out to just put a hand on his shoulder lightly. Or at least, that was his intention. Unfortunately the action made him fumble the chess piece he'd been fiddling with and it slipped through his fingers and landed on the board, laying waste to his side of the field.

"Oops," he said, wincing at the mess and the noise. "Sorry about that." He started retrieving what pieces he could find and replacing them where he thought they might have been on the board. There were a few quiet clicks as they were set into place before Wally spoke again.

"Being in the middle of something like that isn't much fun, and it's worse when no one gives you the chance to explain your side of things. I guess that was why I wanted to talk to you, to hear your side of the story. I like to think everyone has the chance to explain what really happened, and that the truth might be more important than punishing people." He smiled sadly. "Even if it doesn't always work out that way.

"And to be honest, I don't even know why people would think you'd do something like that to someone. I mean, did you even know the guy?"

There was a sudden clatter and Grell jumped, the black queen rolling off his lap to disappear into the chair cushion. Apparently Wally had stood up and knocked the silly chess pieces over. How adorably clumsy of him. Grell rose and helped move the pieces back into place, careful to make sure his fingers brushed Wally's hand as he did so. His hair fell in a curtain over his shoulder and he glanced up as Wally started talking again.

So that was his game? To give Grell a chance to explain himself? What a silly man, thinking that a death god would ever give up information about him killing someone. Although, he had to admit - Wally was good. He was so casual about the whole thing, if he'd been paying any less attention? He might have fallen into that pretty little trap. Just like he'd fallen for those pretty eyes. "Whoever could you be talking about? What 'guy'?"

Wally made a noise of protest as Grell moved to help him, since it was his fault and all, but fell silent as long fingers brushed over the back of his hand. He had no complaints about that kind of contact normally, and even if he wasn't just having this conversation for purely innocent reasons, it still brought a smile to his face.

Unfortunately he was going to have to watch it if he wanted to find out anything Grell might have been keeping to himself. He wasn't so good at this part at the best of times - most of his bad guys were perfectly happy with wearing bright colours and using wholesale property damage to make an impression, so they weren't easy to miss - and if Grell was like Bats had said, then he could be really dangerous.

"Huh?" he said, blinking up into Grell's green eyes. "Oh, I thought you would have seen the notes about it, sorry. It was something about you hurting some kid, I think?" He bit his lip. "I mean I'm not sure. It doesn't seem like the type of thing you'd do."

Another soft click as a chess piece - the bishop - regained his rightful place and Grell settled back on his heels, moving the pawns into place. So small, so restricted in their movements, and yet they could be useful, given the right strategy. This game had belonged to Will. He was all thought and foresight and planning, but Grell had tried to hang off his shoulders while he was playing enough times that he'd picked up a thing or two - and had even started learning, just a little. He preferred the dance though, the fast movements, the spinning round and round each other, trying to get closer without ever touching. That was the most thrilling sort of game.

Putting a hand to his chest, Grell made sure to look taken aback at the accusation, maybe even a little hurt. The pawn he'd been about to upright was left forgotten on the board, lying pathetically on its side. "...You don't mean Brainy? Is he still accusing me? I thought..." Grell lowered his gaze, pondering whether or not he should bite his lip and deciding in the end that revealing his teeth right now would probably break the image. "...I thought we were past that."

"Brainy?" Wally said, brow furrowing slightly. Then it clicked with what else Bruce had mentioned the other day over breakfast. "Oh, you mean that Brainiac guy? Yeah, I think he was the one saying some things around the place, and something about another guy too. Clark, I think?"

It wasn't hard to sound apologetic about bringing the whole topic up, because Wally really did feel bad about it. It felt too much like pointing the finger at Grell, and even if he did have reasons to suspect him, he just didn't like doing that to people. Because if, somehow, Bruce was wrong and Grell really was like he seemed? Then they were just making someone who'd already had a difficult time here have an even worse one.

"Sorry," he said again. "I don't like having to ask you stuff like this, but," he managed a slight laugh that only sounded a little forced, "I guess it kinda would be my job in a way? At least close enough to it. And if we can clear your name, it'd be good, right?"

Wally smiled encouragingly and reached over the board (carefully this time) to lift Grell's chin in order to meet his gaze. "So do you mind me asking you a few things?"

So the little rust bucket had spilled on him? Perhaps Grell had taken away his precious friend too soon. The boy should have felt the fear longer, should have realized just how powerful Grell could be so he never dreamed of even breathing the death god's name again. The terror should have frozen him, to keep that irritating mouth shut. And yet, what was behind him was behind; and Grell had a policy of not looking to the past. It was too far a road with too many bodies that he never saw the need. It was the same scenery, after all, behind and before him. On reflection, it was a good thing he liked his job, or the constant monotony of it would probably get to him.

Sighing, Grell shook his head. He had to sound disappointed, hurt, almost betrayed, and he was certain he did. "I...he was... I thought we could be friends, but my cowardice after getting attacked my first night here, I left that boy in the open and now he blames me for the misfortunes that befell him." He paused when Wally mentioned Clark - that wonderful boy with that peculiar power, but only to tilt his head as is confused. Just as Wally reached out and lifted his chin. He could melt. Really. He wasn't one for a man who tried so hard to impress him normally, but every once in awhile... It was nice to feel 'appreciated' for being the lady he was. "I...suppose. But who is Clark?"

To be honest, Wally wasn't sure how much the other Brainiac (who apparently wasn't evil, and was a kid or something? Bats seemed to know more about it than he did) had said, so he wasn't game to mention much more on the subject. The whole point was to try and find out something that would either prove that Grell really had been there that night and done what Bruce had implied, or that he couldn't have possibly done something like that. Mentioning something that he couldn't have gotten from just general sources would kinda undermine his whole goal.

Still, he couldn't help but wish he had something like Diana's lasso right now, it made getting the truth out of someone so much easier than trying to dance around the subject.

"He blames you for that?" he asked. "But, he knows it's not your fault, right? I mean, it's not like you made whatever it was come after him..." But then again, some people didn't really need much of a reason to blame others for their problems. ...assuming Grell wasn't lying.

Yeah, that lasso would really come in handy right about now.

"Clark is someone else he mentioned, something about you hurting him?" Wally said carefully. "It was about two or three nights ago, I think. Do you remember what you were doing then?"

Oh, but it was, darling. It was all my fault! Was what Grell wanted to say, but he kept his confession between him and God and left it at that. God most likely wasn't listening now anyway, but Grell could say he got it off his chest. So long as no one asked to see any forms on it. Bloody William and those forms. Sighing, Grell shook his head. "I wasn't aware of his condition until the next morning and I've since tried to stay away from him, but he keeps getting hurt and invariably I get blamed."

He knew he should have just killed the boy when he had a chance. Maybe a bit of acid next time. Just for poetic justice. He could burn the child's arm off, maybe scar his face. Or...perhaps he could dip Brainy's little white knight into acid and leave his bones upon the rustbucket's desk. That might get his attention. No one called him a baby killer. No one.

Oh, right, back to the charade. Without missing a beat, Grell shook his head at Wally's question. "I've not heard of him, but is this Clark alright? I hope his injuries weren't serious." Or fatal. "...as for two nights ago? Well, two nights ago was when I was attacked, and the night before that..." He paused, furrowing his brow as if he had to think hard on that. "My roommate is a bit of a bear so I grabbed my things and left early on. As unarmed as I am, I found a nearby room to take shelter in and just waited out the night. I think..." He sighed and sat down in the chair, running a hand through his hair. "I took a nasty bump on the head when whoever it was tried to kill me; and things before that night are a bit fuzzy now. That could have been the night I stayed in the room, or it could have been the time I went with Mr. Rould upstairs and that air creature tried to suffocate me. I'm afraid I'm not much help, am I."

Wally let his gaze and his hand drop away from Grell's face. "No, he, uh, didn't make it," he said quietly. No matter how hard he might have tried to sound like he didn't really know Clark, he couldn't quite manage to keep the sadness out of his voice. He guessed he wasn't that good an actor after all--

I met Grell on my--and his--first night in the Institution; he's a good actor.

Dammit, he'd pretty much forgotten that part. Maybe this hadn't been such a bright idea, hoping he could somehow find something to prove it one way or the other. How was he supposed to tell that Grell was lying anyway? He'd tried getting him to trip up with how much he knew, but that hadn't worked, and Wally was rapidly realising that he hadn't really had any plans other than that. It wasn't like he could go and take samples from the scene of the crime like he would normally be working with either. Which meant that he either believed Bats, and maybe accused an innocent man of murder, or he believed Grell, and maybe let a complete psychopath walk free.

He sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand. "Sorry, I guess it's just a really complicated mess. I mean, maybe if you had witnesses or something that could vouch for you both nights... But even then." He shrugged, then gave a nervous laugh. "Man, here I am saying it's hard, and it's probably worse for you. I mean, I don't think butlers have much to do with this kind of stuff, right? And especially after what happened to your boss..."

It was rather hard to 'make it' after getting stabbed and gutted, but Grell put on his best sympathetic face and lowered his eyes. Wally's tone, though? My, my, what a complicated chase this was going to be. Not only had Grell stolen Brainy's special little friend, but apparently, he'd also taken someone from Wally. Well, that was a shame, wasn't it? Not much he could do now, unless Clark wanted to rise from the dead like the rest of the town. "I'm so sorry... It's a terrible thing when people die."

Yes, awful. Just horrid. Especially since Grell didn't get to see their bloody Records. He missed being able to pull the Record from someone's broken body more than anything else - except maybe for his scythe, but they were interconnected, so it was like the same thing.

Back to the task at hand then.

"Even with witnesses-" Darling, annoying X. "-no one would likely believe them. They're deadset-" Ha. "-on blaming me for it all." Grell sighed and picked up the chess piece again from where it'd fallen into the cushion, turning it over in his hands. It wasn't so hard, it just meant he had to be more careful. Sebastian was likely still looking for him, although it would seem that Ciel's attention was now elsewhere. Funny, how the little boy was so willing to look the other way once it suited him, but Grell wasn't all that concerned. If it kept him alive? Who cared what the brat did with his spare time. "Yes, we generally stick to the management of the household and--" Wait. Boss? Madam? When had Grell ever told Wally that she had died? He hadn't, that's what. He said they had a falling out and his employment had been terminated. Never had he... But he had told others. Most notably-- "Ah, I suppose Mr. Wayne might have told you about that?"

"Yeah, losing someone is always difficult," Wally agreed, still downcast. He picked up one of the little horses he'd been playing with earlier and tried carefully to balance it on top of a little tower. "And this place makes things even worse. If you weren't there, you don't know what really happened, and then no one knows what they do with the bodies or anything either... There's not a lot of space to say goodbye or get to the bottom of problems like who did what."

The horse didn't want to sit on the tower neatly, and nearly overbalanced several times before Wally set it back down and began fiddling with his bandages instead. The painkillers were wearing off, and it was starting to affect his concentration, which admittedly wasn't the greatest at the best of times. He couldn't remember that well what information he'd gotten from Bats and what he'd gotten from Grell (it had been a few really trying days) and, when Grell asked about Bruce, he realised he'd just screwed up big time.

Luckily the start of surprise would have been expected. "Huh? Oh, yeah," he said, forcing a smile while desperately trying to figure out a way to explain this mess away. "We met a few days back and he saw me watching you - not that you can really blame me that - and mentioned how you'd met. Sorry, I guess it must have slipped my mind."

Grell had never lost anyone he actually cared about until his darling madam. Everyone he knew, after all, were death gods and it was rather hard to lose them. Even when he wanted to sometimes. Like when he was in trouble. Hiding from Will, though, usually ended with a shoe kicking him in the head.

But while Grell had never lost anyone, he knew enough about death that he knew what he should do. It was obvious that Wally was grieving now and the death god reached out, touching Wally's hands as they played with his bandages. "I am truly sorry. If there were something I could do to help, I would."

That sounded nice and sincere. And when Wally started, Grell pulled his hands back, noting with a smidgeon of inner satisfaction when Wally realized he'd been caught. So Mr. Bruce Wayne was talking, was he? That wasn't smart of him. But if he was talking, then so was that pushy redhead Donna, which made things a little more complicated. "Oh, I see," he said, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing as he leaned back into his seat. "It's no bother to me, but I wonder just what he said about me? I should hope nothing bad."

Wally was a little thrown by the touch, but smiled slightly all the same. He probably could have explained to Grell about how confusing the whole issue was for him - how he felt like he hadn't really known this version of Clark but was still shocked that something, anything, could have killed him - but he would have had to explain way too much and it wouldn't have given not only his secrets, but a bunch of others away too...

Any while he may be a little too trusting sometimes, Wally didn't think he was stupid.

....but maybe he was actually wrong there too, since he'd done the one thing he'd been hoping to avoid and dragged Bruce into the conversation as well. But kicking himself over it would have to come later, right now he had to really hope he could pull off an act well enough to make sure he didn't accidentally get Bruce into trouble. Not that he didn't think Bats could handle it, but this was Wally's mess if Bruce was right, not anyone else's.

"Nah," he said, leaning back in his chair and wincing as his shoulder throbbed particularly viciously. "Kinda more your typical rich idiot, I guess. He didn't know anything about the stuff I was asking about."

Was that a wince? Wally West was not only digging into things he shouldn't be, but he was injured as well. Fancy that. It was like the wounded antelope coming to kick dirt on the lioness' face while she was hunting. Not too bright of him, but then, Grell liked it better that way. It made manuevering around him easier, albeit still fun. It wasn't like dancing with Sebastian over Jack the Ripper, but it was still a lovely number.

"He seemed like such a gentleman to me, a bit of a playboy, but that's aristocracy for you." That and bats. He'd handled the bats pretty well. "All fun and brains only when it comes to money." Grell leaned forward again, resting his chin on the back of his hand as he watched Wally carefully. "But what were you asking about? If it had to do with me, you should have just asked me."

So far so good, it seemed like Wally had managed to pull the attention from friends who were likely to kill him if they found out he'd nearly given them away and back onto himself. At least then if any psychos did come after him, Bats would be right in that he only had himself to blame. He just hoped he'd actually still be able to hear the 'I told you so's if Bruce was right about this whole mess. Despite the superspeed, he'd never been a fan of 'live fast and die young'.

But he still couldn't afford to relax just yet.

"I guess. I just..." he sighed, dropping his eyes back to the board between them and raking his good hand through his hair. "I was asking if he thought you could... kill someone. If maybe you could do what that Brainiac kid was saying."

The noose felt a little tighter after what Wally said, and Grell's shock was genuine - mostly. Outwardly, he appeared surprised and maybe even a little hurt that Wally would go so far in his suspicion. A hand raised to his chest, his eyes widened just a bit, his brows furrowed oh so slightly. Inwardly, he was plotting how best to get back to Bruce. Darling Mr. Wayne had indeed seen him kill that night. He'd crushed those disgusting bats in his hands and then discovered, much to his chagrin, that they didn't bleed right at all.

And now it seemed that his little Bat Killer was talking. As charming as the man was, he hadn't heard from him in a bit, so perhaps... Yes, perhaps it was time for the Reaper to go knocking, just to see what the man had to say.

"You suspected me that much? I thought you would have trusted me a little more than that, Wally." Not that he should or that it wasn't entirely unexpected. Sighing, he lowered his hand and looked away, crossing his arms. Now was the time for the indignant act. "And? Just what did he say to that?"

The shocked reaction was expected, but Wally didn't know if it was because he'd gotten too close to the truth, or if Grell was genuinely upset that he suspected him at all. At the moment though, it didn't matter. It wasn't like his answer would change either way. He just wished there was some way to know for sure which it was.

"It's not that I don't trust you," Wally insisted, leaning forward again. "It's just that... I have to be sure. It's my job and those kind of habits don't just go away."

He sighed and scooped up one of the pointy chess pieces to toy with as he continued. "But he didn't have much to say, sorry. I mean, if he'd said anything concrete either way, then I wouldn't have come to talk to you in the first place, would I?" He blinked and added a quick, "no offence."

So there was no concrete proof - as expected - which gave Grell very little reason to give up his act. Although, it might be easier to continue just being himself to a certain degree and drop the butler persona altogether. But should be do that, it could have consequences down the line. Weighing his options, Grell hummed once - as if dissatisfied with Wally's answer - and decided to stick to the plan for now. He was, after all, outnumbered and until the other team cornered him in an alleyway with blood and a dead body on his hands? There was no reason to give up the fight.

"Of course - officer of the law and all that," he said, flippantly waving his hand. Grell really needed to learn to stop playing with fire like this. Every time he found a man he liked, something got in the way: heartlessness, the law, allegiance, .....work. Stupid Will. Stupid sexy Will. Why was he still ignoring him?! A death god at full power could lay waste to this place. So why was Will content to leave Grell alone? That rummy bastard.

"---in the first place, would I? No offense."

Oh right, Wally was talking.

Turning his attention back to the conversation, Grell shrugged and flipped his hair over his shoulder, forgetting momentarily that said hair had been hiding the bruises on his neck. "None taken. After all, if I were to be found guilty of murder, I suspect I'd merely be murdered myself. That's how the law goes about here, isn't that so?"

More like forensics lab work," Wally muttered. Which was why he really wasn't good at this questioning people thing. Not to mention he'd never really done any of this even when the League was supposed to be questioning people. It'd always been something better left up to people like Bats, GL, Shayera, J'onn... Okay, pretty much anyone but him was better at this.

...why had he thought this was a good idea again?

Wally's eyes widened as Grell's hair flicked back and revealed the bruises on his neck. He hadn't been lying about someone trying to kill him, and that made Wally's stomach churn.

"What?" he said, shocked by the idea that people would be okay with that kind of thing. "No! All because someone commits a crime, even murder, doesn't mean that they deserve to be hurt themselves. Besides, without any proof, how can anyone say what really happened? If we just go off what people say, then it seems like half the people here would be at each other's throats, and no one wants that."

At least, he liked to think no one did, even if some conversations on the bulletin seemed to prove that wrong.

Wally slouched in his chair, feeling even more tired by this whole thing than he had before now. "I'm not trying to find out what happened to punish people," he said softly, rubbing his thumb across the smooth surface of the chess piece. "I just want to know what happened and... why. And to make sure no one else gets hurt like that. I can't protect everyone from the monsters, but if other people are attacking each other, maybe I can do something there."

He looked back up at the red haired man, eyes pleading. "Is that really so wrong?"

Right, forensics. The ones who crawled over the crime scenes and picked apart the bloody messes. Grell had seen them doing that in the back alleys of Whitechapel a few times. He'd gone back merely to amuse himself and to ensure that nothing would lead back to, well, him. The looks of horror on the men's faces though? Soooo worth it.

Leaning to the left, Grell rested his chin lightly across the back of his fingers, crossing his legs as he watched Wally flounder a bit at the idea of Landel's Institute-style justice. The poor boy was so...righteous. So very upstanding. He was a hero type, all right. He wanted justice and probably peace and love for the world. Sadly for him, such things simply did not exist. For all the glory that God gave them, the free will and the beauty of the world, Men were brutal creatures. "The what and why? Once you have that, what shall you do? Rehabilitate the criminals? Lock them up at night to keep them from killing again? Darling, you really must think these things through. The people here do not fear the law as men in cities do and they most certainly don't abide by it. There is no law except that which you can take in your own hands. And people-" He paused and pointed to his neck, sliding a few strands of red hair out of the way with his right hand. "-most definitely shall do just that to whatever criminals they find."

He sighed and pulled his hair forward again to cover up the unsightly mess. "Whether they are proven guilty or not."

Oh, but he was being cruel wasn't he? Grell smiled slightly, possibly a little sharper than he should have, fueled by the irony of this situation and the pleading look in Wally's eyes. It was just too cute, really. He was pleading with the very murderer he wished to catch in order to spare the criminal's life. "It isn't wrong, love, it's merely...naive. Can you protect the innocent from the guilty and the guilty from the innocent? You know how loudly the bereaved clamour for revenge. It's like they become monsters themselves."

"I know it's not that easy," Wally answered, "but it's just that... innocent people are getting hurt and no one's willing to do anything about it. Do you expect me to just say that because I can't put people in prison or find some way to stop them from hurting others without harming them, that it's okay to just let it go? Look the other way or pretend it isn't happening? What about people who get hurt by this? Don't they have any rights?"

He followed Grell's finger with his eyes, taking in the extensive bruising on the other man's neck with a sick feeling weighing heavy in his stomach. "But don't you wish there was some way you could be sure you weren't going to be attacked again?"

Something about Grell's smile was off, but Wally wasn't paying as much attention to that at the moment. "It just doesn't seem fair to say it has to be one or the other," he said stubbornly. "I don't want revenge, I want to know what really happened, if things are as clear-cut as that or if it's more complicated. I mean, maybe whoever it really was won't go after anyone else. Maybe there was some reason they did this to Clark, and that was it."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair again, still fiddling with the chess piece. "I'm not saying that makes things better, but it does make how people would react different to if they were just some psycho killer."

"Oh, people are willing to do things about it, it's merely that such 'things' are rather unsightly in and of themselves," Grell argued, the smile slipping back into something pleasant as he twirled a strand of hair about his finger. Brainy, especially, was being rather adamant about protecting his little Waffle Knight, but it was already too late. A lady kept her word, and a death god never missed his mark. And since it seemed Luxord was willing to play along? Well, there was no harm to anyone but the Waffle Twit if Grell kept his word only so long as it took to kill him. Pulling his finger free, Grell sighed and checked his nails before returning his attention to the conversation.

"Of course they have rights, love, but look at where we are. There's not a good lot we can do, is there? It's difficult enough to keep ourselves alive without having to worry about saving those who cannot look after themselves." Oh, but that was bordering on his real personality, wasn't it? Grell stopped and started fiddling with his hair again, dropping his gaze as if ashamed of what he'd just said. "...I do understand though. It's a terrible thing, all these people getting hurt. I wish I could say there was some way to stop those blood-thirsty vigilantes from coming after me or my companions, but unless I stop them first - and honestly, me? stop them? hardly - I don't believe they'll ever leave me in peace."

Especially not once the truth came out. Sitting forward, Grell reached out and grabbed Wally's hands gently as they fidgeted with the chess piece and he smiled. "Not everyone has a heart like yours, love. It's a sad fact of this place."

And yet...perhaps? Would Wally judge him? Would he understand the reasons why Clark had to die? Not only had it been the boy's time, but...well, to be frank, Brainiac 5 had ticked him off and broken his word. Was Grell not entirely in the right then, when he followed up on his own promise to kill someone close to the little rustbucket should he talk too much? Of course he was. Pulling his hand back, Grell studied the black king for a moment before tilting it to the side with one finger, almost to the point of it toppling over. "And if it isn't a psycho killer? What do you intend to do?"

Wally glanced up sharply as Grell took his hands, his green eyes searching the other's intently. What the other man had said just now... It didn't sound exactly right. Why would he talk about not worrying about those who couldn't protect themselves if Grell himself had been attacked and injured while he couldn't defend himself?

"I guess," he said slowly, tugging his hands free from Grell's. "I just wish it didn't feel like I was the only one who felt this way." The last time he'd mentioned it on the bulletin board as well it had been painfully obvious that most people didn't agree with the idea that it was better to at least try to get along.

Wally's brow furrowed a little, drawing a faint line on his forehead as he watched the chess piece and Grell's hand. "I guess it depends on why they did it," he mused quietly. "I mean, if Brainiac's involved..."

He just barely managed to avoid flinching too obviously. He hadn't meant to let slip how much he knew about Clark or the name Brainiac; the whole point was to try and see if Grell had anything to do with what had happened, which was what Bruce suspected. But Wally couldn't forget the other name that kept popping up and... well he just didn't trust anyone who went around calling themselves that. Even if you tacked a number on the end, a world-destroying robot was a world-destroying robot.

"It is difficult to be against the majority," Grell said with a sigh, tipping the king back and forth, always just barely keeping it from falling over. Grell knew that well enough. Even for a death god, he was a little odd. And for a woman? Well, he wasn't one. That was the biggest problem of all. Even he recognized that God had created him as a man, but he also knew he'd been given the heart of a lady. And he wished for nothing more than to be one in body and soul, not just by heart and deed alone. It was painful, living one life and looking like another. Especially when people didn't understand or tried to force him into the male pigeonhole.

And there it was. The king froze in place and Grell shot Wally a curious look. Brainiac. Not Brainiac 5. Something about the boy hating that name, insisting upon the 5, insisting he was...different. Yes... That was just what he needed. Push it off on the brat, make it his fault (since it rightfully was) and then? Then he could sit back and enjoy the chaos that would follow. "Brainy?" he asked, forcing a little bit of concern into his voice. "...why should it hinge upon him?"

"Uh, well," Wally floundered, trying to think of an explanation as to why that name should mean anything at all to him. Unfortunately being able to think really fast didn't mean he could actually think better, and his mind just kept drawing blanks in this area.

He sighed, wincing and pressing his palm to his forehead. Maybe if he was careful, he wouldn't let on too much about the League or who Clark really was? "I've kinda... heard the name before back home," he said carefully. "Some kind of robot that went around destroying worlds. But if this one's a kid?" He shrugged. "I dunno, that's different from the one I heard about. Maybe it's nothing."

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