Charity Balls are full of rich people with motivation for being there. Mrs. Harrison and Mrs. Fredrick get their gossip there. They tend to be loud about, I don't think they realize how hard of hearing they are, it's easy to read their lips even if they weren't loud. Lex Luthor finds it bolsters his reputation. He dresses impeccably, but not well enough for the decent people to talk to him. Mr. Michaels is trying to hook up with anyone. He flirts with any woman in a skirt the waitress actively avoid him. I hate the fake people they pretending their motives are just to contribute to charity. At least Selina isn't here, she would be hanging on Bruce and stealing Rolex watches.
I case the building as everyone mills about. Ten exits, thirty in the wait staff, only millionaires or well-connected influential people to Gotham. Almost everyone here comes from money older than Ra's, himself. It seems as if they copied each other fashions, the dresses are a ruby-red or a coal-black. Most of the women under thirty wear mini dresses made of silk that seem immaculate. None of these women would be caught dead in a wrinkly dress. The ones over thirty always wear, emerald greens, or blue like sapphire's, dresses, like the jewels they wear on their necks.
The high ceiling had chandeliers that dipped down casting shadows on the top of the ceilings. I have no problem with low lighting, but I prefer being able to see everything unobstructed. I found a quiet corner with a perfect vantage point. I had a view of every exit and because of the long sheer scarlet curtains I could hide if I wanted to. When I saw the band start people moved to the dance floor I could see even more. People don't hide what they feel when they dance, I noted as I observed.
I don't feel like I belong. Bruce Wayne adopted me and I know I belong in the Wayne family. Charity balls are awkward it seems as though I only get strange and hostile looks. The older women look at me and whisper to each other. They talk about me and not in a glowing way, they haven't a clue what I'm capable of. The old and young men look at me like they want something. It makes me want to teach them respect, but I usually just glare at them till they walk away. It works well. Stephanie once told me, if they mention a number to say that was how many days I had been off meds. I told her no. Glaring works.
Dick dances with anyone, or I would stay with him. Bruce and Tim talk to partners from other companies. Damian looks like he'd rather be fighting ninjas, I almost agree with him. Barbara is with Dick or the Commissioner. Stephanie doesn't like the balls either, but she still dances with Tim when she comes. I think she comes for the food more than him sometimes. The food is good, smoked salmon with a kiss of basil and tarragon, shrimp with roasted pine nuts in olive oil, or cheese platters with a dozen kinds of exotic cheese.
The more I watch, the more I realize I don't belong here. I turn to leave. I won't ever belong among people like that. I was almost at the solid oak door to freedom and patrol. I hated the dress Barbara picked for me, besides being gray and tight it's also longer than the other women's it has sleeves and the long black leather boots show little of my legs. The reason Barbara chose it was because, unlike all the other women I have scars to hide. I wish I hadn't come at all tonight.
"Cass, where are you going?" Tim asked me. His body language read that he was concerned and tired. He always read tired. When he was talking to old fat men who inherited companies he read more like, mildly interested and wanting to be anywhere else.
"Out." I replied simply.
"Not without a dance. You should have a little fun. Dancing is easy, I'll lead." He led me to the floor just as a waltz started.
"Put your hand in mine. Then with your other hand put it on my forearm." He made sure I had the right form before he explained what he was going to do. "I'm going to put my hand right on your shoulder-blade, behind your arm. Just like that." I don't like close contact normally. I trust Tim and it was comfortable. Years of experience in ever form of martial arts I picked up easily the cues of when to turn or how to move.
I was so close to Tim I could smell his cologne, it smelled like sandalwood and leather. The tiredness I read seemed to shed as we moved. He eased in to the moves as we glided across the floor. I found that a smile was stretching across my face as he twirled me again.
I liked it the music and how it felt, being twirled. It made me feel like the princess in all the princess movies Dick makes us watch. Special and like a younger version of myself, if that makes sense.
"My parents made my take ballroom dance classes for three years. It helped my balance when I first started out." Tim said as he spun me gently out.
The song ended too early for my liking. Dancing was better than it looked. A man came and pulled Tim away much to both of our annoyance. The man wanted to talk business and money. He was talking boisterously as he stole Tim away.
I walked to the balcony it was a cloudy night with moonbeams shining through the cloud cover. I practiced what Tim shown me. I was aware of someone coming closer. I was surprised when I turned and saw it was Bruce.
"I thought you might want another dance." He said as he pulled the curtain back to its normal position.
"Yes." I said as he came closer. The music floated though we danced on the balcony. Dancing with him was different than with Tim. He is bigger than my adopted brother and at gala's he smells better than normal. He smells more like Stetson cologne and maybe a hint of vanilla and coffee, instead of sweat, blood and Gotham streets. He's relaxed as we dance he must have danced for years he had a practiced ease that didn't surprise me. Fighter or dancer Bruce was excellent in his form and execution.
He held me securely as we danced he twirled me less than Tim did, but it was enjoyable. I felt safe in my adopted father's arms. I lost track of how long we danced, but the gala ended we had to quit.
That night we went on patrol I was on the roof of a bank in downtown Gotham there was a gentle breeze I looked down at all the lights and people. This was my home away from Hong Kong. I belonged in the night, free and controlled by no one.
But dancing? I want to do more of that. The gentle motion and closeness for something other than fighting. I may talk Tim and Bruce into giving me some lessons. I waltzed the rest of the night, back, left crossing, but not touching my legs, right then, up right back to where I had been.
Thugs still didn't know what hit them even as I practiced the box step.
I would have to ask to learn more dances. Dancing, it was something I never thought I would ever do. My brothers and my father taught me so much. I had a feeling that I wasn't done learning.
AN
I would like to thank, Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt for inspiring me to write more in this story. She's an awesome writer, you should check out her stories. I'll have a second chapter up sometime.
Review, what you think!