Bruce didn't know this girl, but Tim's reaction was more than enough to tell him everything he needed. That he knew this girl, knew her well, that they were friends or possibly lovers. He froze as he watched the screen, dropping all traces of the act, the persona he'd been so carefully constructing up until now. That was understandable, and was forgivable - he could always say he'd been engrossed in the screens. In the drama unfolding. Bruce watched Tim instead of what was going on, which made it more bearable, the death of this stranger who was somehow important. But, when Tim started to leave, that was something he couldn't do, not like this, without an excuse, unless he wanted his carefully constructed personality split apart. Unless he wanted it known that he'd been acting.

Bruce moved smoothly over to the younger man, and his hand went to the other's shoulder.

"Tim," he said, voice just bordering on the edge of the voice he reserved for business, with only as much as the charming, silly playboy as had to be there.

"You're going to miss the party."