Alfred blinks and they're gone.
Perhaps they were never there in the first place. (But they were there and they were happy, Alfred thinks, and forgets the change on his table.)
"Cosa c'รจ?" a waiter asks, Is there something wrong?
Alfred shakes his head and excuses himself. In the corner of his eye, he sees them holding hands, and wonders how long the chase would last until they finally disappear in front of him. They had been (still are, he corrects himself) Bruce and Selina, after all.
Smoke and mirrors are old tricks.
He follows them, cobblestone street after cobblestone street, trying to catch a glimpse of their faces (because, no, he is not dreaming, this is real). Maybe then, he'd be able to silence the beating of his heart. (He's too old to be deafened this way, too old to rely on organs and blood.)
They stop at a wishing fountain (one of many, and Alfred routinely forgets its name) and so does he. They turn around, but their faces are blank and Alfred fights the bile rising in his throat. (I'm dreaming of dreaming, Alfred murmurs, and dreams are fickle.)
Slowly, their faces return, but Alfred can no longer recognize them. They wave at him and smile (though not at him, but someone - something, somewhere - beyond him) and motion him to move closer.
He does.
"Come sta?" Alfred asks, How are you? (Though, secretly, he means to ask 'who are you?' Maybe he doesn't want to know.)
"Sto bene," he replies. The girl says nothing.
"Come si chiama?" What is your name?
The man laughs and shakes Alfred's hand.
"Mi chiamo Bruce."