[rl] Ra's and Tim
The room was well set, something of an old Asian feel to the stark nature of the floors and boarding. It was not decadent but it was pristine, an old charm to the walls. It felt very much like the temple Bruce had burnt down, all but the smell. It was sharp, metallic, like all things in Gotham. A smell that seeped into every crack, no matter how sacred the space.
Ra's stood by the window, high views sweeping the city. From the side he could see Wayne Manor in all it's newly refurbished glory, the court house and it's bustling steps, even the far far shadow of the Narrows and all the filth it held. Tim Drake would be by soon, and Ra's allowed himself this nostalgia, something so close to the feeling of training Bruce, of the few times he had seen true potential with his own eyes.
This boy, he was well molded already, though there was a certain way to him that could be open to suggestion. If he were a resident of this world Ra's would have considered- no, he would have tried his hand at swaying the boy to his cause, to his teaching. Such potential should not be wasted, but Tim Drake did not belong here, did not belong under his influence no matter how the result would aide them both. When Gotham was destroyed the boy would hate him, when the toxin poisoned the community he might turn it to loathing.
Until that time he could enjoy the slight challenge, couldn't he? Ra's did not turn when a man walked in, bowing even though unseen and speaking in a rushed, foreign tongue of their guest's arrival.