It starts

A light snowfall sprinkled across the streets of Gotham, a little unusual purity in an essentially impure city. It was like powdered sugar and the tall, dark buildings were all gothic gingerbread houses. Most people were taking this opportunity to go out and admire the crisp snow of winter, but Bruce Wayne wasn't most people. At the tender age of 21, this young man was the poster child for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He was throwing a, once, annual Christmas party that Alfred had insisted it was time to resurrect. Bruce saw no point, his parents were long since dead, and it wasn't as though there was a single thing good in his life to celebrate. That in mind, he was smiling charmingly and working the crowded room of people, shaking men's hands who were three times his age, yet were looking up to him as though he was some sort of business hero. Not too hard to stomach was sweet talking their wives, kissing their hands and seducing their daughters with little more then a smile and a compliment to their dress. Inside he was screaming. He should be the one coming to the men for advice, they were older, wiser, had more experience...the women were out only to set him up with one of their flighty, and usually airheaded, daughters; the daughters...if old enough, just wanted to get into his pants. He gave a sigh and forced his train of thought away from it or he would become openly resentful. Alfred watched the boy he had raised with a heavy sigh of his own. He had to hoped that perhaps tonight Bruce might come out of his shell, perhaps smile a genuine smile...maybe even make a friend. That didn't look likely to happen.

Bruce spoke with Commissioner Gordon, whom he actually seemed fond of. They were having a casual conversation, anyways, about the Gotham Hawks. Football was always a universal topic among men...usually. Barbara, the commissioners daughter smirked as she watched her dad and old time pal smoose it up. The pretty redhead wore a too fluffy, too confining green dress that she was all too willing to try to get out of. She was itchy, and she was frowning now, getting a drink from the bartender who had refused to let her have anything alcoholic. Nicholas and Ivonne Fairchild made an appearance, fashionably late on Ivonne's request, their young daughter in tow. The perfect host as always, Bruce excused himself from Gordon and made his way over to the new arrivals.

Ivonne smiled at him and Nicholas extended his hand, Bruce taking it and giving it a firm shake. "Mr. Fairchild, Mrs. Fairchild, It's a pleasure to see you both, I'm glad you made it." Bruce said, giving a nod to them and offering a measured smile.

"Oh Bruce, the pleasure is all ours." She smiled and quickly moved aside, moving her daughter forward and basically right under Bruces' nose. "Have you met our daughter? Britney, this is Bruce Wayne, Bruce, this is Britney."

Both simply blinked at having another person shoved into their face. Bruce looked at the brown eyed girl, and Britney looked up at the blue eyed man. Ivonne watched them both with wide eyes, Nicholas rolling his own and taking his wife's arm, excusing them and leading her off toward the bar for some refreshments.

Bruce took as step back, as did Britney.

"I'm sorry, I can imagine you get that quite a bit." she said, smiling. Bruce's eyes widened frictionally and his gut twisted, his knees suddenly felt weak...he would have to have that checked out. He couldn't help looking the girl over. She was around 5'2, 5'3 maybe, with big brown eyes that he could easily get lost in, were he not careful. While most of the girls there were wearing short little mini dresses or something cut straight down to their belly button, she wore a tasteful baby pink gown, the corset style front showing off only enough cleavage to leave him wondering what hid under the silky fabric. It clung a little at her stomach and hips before flaring out downwards toward her legs; legs he, again, couldn't see in the floor-sweeping outfit. If they were as good as the rest of the package, then he surely had nothing to complain about. He gulped, feeling his stomach twist again, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, the only outward sign that he was affected by her beauty.

She felt herself blush under his cool gaze. It was as though he knew he was too good for her and was irritated with her very presence or something. His eyes were so icy, a beautiful shade of bue she couldn't really name, lush black hair, a strong jaw line, lips to die for...she blinked and quickly shook her head. Where did that come from?

Both of them looked at each other for a heartbeat longer before Bruce gave her a curt nod and turned, walking away to entertain others.

Britney released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and a bit of tension in her shoulders lessened. He was an intense man, that was for sure. Being in his presence too long was like slowly having your oxygen supply cut off until you became giddy and light headed.

Pushing that out of her mind, she looked around for her parents, who were talking animatedly to the Mayor and his arm candy of the night. She didn't want to go there, that was for sure. She made her way over to the bar instead, excusing herself as she had to brush past people, all of whom watched her long after she had moved away from them.

Barbra looked up as the brunette girl sat down beside her. The girl was wearing a dress that actually looked comfortable. Damn it.

"Can I get a mineral water, please?" she asked, smiling at the bartender who smirked back at her. "Of course, li'l lady, coming right up." he replied as he picked up a chilled glass and opened a blue bottle, pouring the sparkling water in. He set the glass on a napkin and moved it over to her with a wink. "Anything else I can get you?"

She shook her head and picked up her glass, the small diamond tennis bracelet at her wrist shimmering like fire as the light hit it. "No thank you."

He nodded and left, but Barbara noticed he watched her out of the corner of his eye. The redhead nudged her.

"Hey, my name's Barbara." She said as way of introduction.

Brit looked at her, a tad shocked that someone has said something to her at all. She quickly smiled at her, "Hi, I'm Britney."

Barbara nodded and looked back at Brit's parents, "So your Dad's the new Senator, huh? I forget where you guys came from."

Brit chuckled at that and took another sip of her drink before replying. "We're Texans." she said proudly.

With a snap of her fingers, the redhead nodded, grinning, "That's what it is, you've got a southern accent!"

"Yep."

"How come you don't have bigger hair?"

"I...beg your pardon?"

"Well, don't people from Texas do everything big? All the ladies have their hair a foot in the air and all the guys have belt buckles you could get Cable on?" she asked, her brows arched. Brit wasn't sure if she was joking or not.

"We do tend to go bigger, some of us. Austin, Dallas, these are big cities, with big people who hold a lot of power. But in the city, you'd be surprised, most of us drive around in BMW's and Jaguars. That's not to say we don't have out fair share of hicks, but that is like me associating Gotham here with only drug dealers and crack whores. Unfair and untrue." she said, setting down her glass and eyeing her.

"Yeah...sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything, but..."

"I know, it's a common misconception that anyone from the south is a redneck." Brit said with a smile, assuring her it was alright. They talked for a good part of the night, Brit learning Barbara was Commissioner Gordon's daughter, and a total tom-boy who hated her dress with a bloody passion. Barbara learned that while Brit could rope and ride with the best of them, she also loved gourmet food and to have her nails done. But the whole time they were talking, there was a pair of blue eyes that always wandered over and lingered on them.

Babs noticed and pointed it out. "You realize Bruce has been ogling you the whole night, right?" she asked, not moving her lips enough to let Bruce read them.

Britney blinked and instantly went to look, but Bab's kicked her under the bar, making the smaller woman let out a whimper, leaning down to rub her shin. "Owwwww...that was unnecessary roughness, to the penalty box with you!" she said, scowling a bit.

"Well don't make it obvious we know, smart one. But he has, the whole time we've been talking his been looking over here, watching every one of your movements. Boy's got the hot's for you." she said matter-of-factly.

Brit blushed brightly, pink spots shimmering on her cheekbones. "He does not, he didn't give me the time of day..." she didn't sound convinced.

"He sure is now, he's coming over here."

"What!" she gasped, sitting up and turning just in time to end up face to chest with Mr. Wayne himself. She almost fell backwards but he gripped her elbow, holding her steady.

"Sorry to startle you. Miss Fairchild." he said in that rich baritone of his, making Brit blush a little more and only serving to make Barbara grin wider as she watched them.

Bruce nodded to her,"Miss Gordon, a pleasure as always." "Yeah yeah, pleasures about to be all yours in a bit anyways." she said with a smirk.

Bruce half glared at her before looking at Brit. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

"Uhm..sure." She said, letting him take her hand and slowly pull her out onto the large dance floor. She forced herself to remain cool, the way his fingers curled around her hand so...possessive, yet not. It made her tingle a little, and when he pulled her into his arms to hold her close, the tingle was undeniable. He led her easily in the slow song, swaying along with her to the smooth sounds that came from the orchestral ensemble. His hand rested on the small of her back, keeping her close, while his other held hers. He smiled at her, loving the way she looked up at him, the way the lights danced across her skin. She'd caught his attention, that was for sure.

"How do you like Gotham, Britney?" he asked quietly, so as not to disturb the other dancing couples. She shrugged slightly, telling him the same thing she'd told Barbara.

"It's no Texas, but the people seem nice enough."

He nodded.

"For someone used to country life, I would assume this is an unwelcome change. Your father tells me you were against this move, I'm sorry to hear that. But I would like to make your stay here as comfortable as possible." he said, making eye contact and holding it.

Britney smiled, unable to resist. As they danced, they were getting progressively closer, their bodies gently swaying against one another.

"I don't know what you could do, but It's sweet of you to offer, Mr. Wayne."

"Don't be silly, call me Bruce." he chided her.

She tried it on for size. "Bruce..."

He grinned and dipped her low, watching her long hair flutter with the movement, her dress pooling around her perfectly. He slowly slid her back up and let his hand slide from her shoulders back to her hips. "I love the way you say that."

Her eyes widened and she blushed once again, opening her mouth but not being able to say anything. He chuckled and spun her around the floor. "Relax, Princess. Would you be interested in dinner some time? Perhaps this Friday?" he asked.

"I'd love to...but my mom didn't put you up to this, did she? Because if she did, thanks but no thanks, Im really not desperate." she said firmly, only making him smirk.

"Of that I have no doubt, but trust me, Sweetheart, your mother had nothing to do with my desire to take you out."

"Really? In that case, I'd love to. Bruce." Britney said, grinning.