The next afternoon the lift doors opened and in walked Bruce Wayne again. He looked around the place and his eyes rested on me. I was at the sink and noticed him when he began to approach.

'Lucius isn't here if you're looking for something specific,' I said, emptying the conical flask of the last drops of tea.

'No, I came here looking for you.'

'Ah, I see.' I flicked the kettle on again and leant on the table, hands behind me and resting on the edge to support myself. 'What can I do for you, Mr Wayne?'

'I was wondering if you could help me improve some of that gear I borrowed.'

'By improve, you mean what exactly?' I tilted my head slightly.

'Paint black, make stronger, little things…' he shrugged.

I narrowed my eyes as steam started to rise behind me from the kettle. 'If you're being so secretive about using the equipment, why openly ask me to help change it to suit you? I'm sure you're capable of doing it yourself.'

He shrugged again. 'It'd be quicker for me if I had an extra pair of hands.'

I tilted my head further for a moment, studying his face, considering his words. I put my head upright. 'Alright.' The kettle clicked behind me and I turned and poured hot water into the conical flask.

'…Why do you use that?'

'What?' I asked, turning to the side to see if he was pointing at anything.

He nodded at the flask as it became foggy on the inside.

'Oh. Saves me losing mugs,' I shrugged and put the kettle back down, then bent down and picked up a tin of tea leaves. 'Catch anyone last night, Mr Wayne?' I used the formal title in a slightly teasing manner.

'I'm uh…' he couldn't come up with anything plausible. 'What do you know about me?'

'Mostly everything,' I replied, 'from your politics to your hobbies.' I gave him a long, I'm-a-smart-ass-and-I-know-it look before returning to the tea.

'So what are you doing?' I said blankly.

'Fighting crime,' he said immediately.

'With or without a mask?' I didn't miss a beat.

'With.'

'Vigilante. Nice. Maybe I'll give you a hand in the field.'

'Uh,' he stepped forward slightly, 'I don't think that will be nece-,'

'It's not like you can stop me. Anyway, got a name yet?'

'No.'

'Always helpful. What lines were you thinking along?'

'… …Something elemental, that I fear. I want my enemies to share my fear.'

I nodded, opening a small fridge. 'I can understand that. But me? I'd go with thunder. See most people are wary or scared of thunderstorms, but I'm not. And what that would show is that I'm not afraid. Of course, both philosophies end up providing both which ever way you start with, but that doesn't matter.'

He nodded, completely unsure as to what to say. 'Will you help me? And can I trust you?'

'Never ask someone if they trust you; lying is far too easy for that. Whether or not you can trust someone comes in the form of your actions toward them. But will I tell Gotham that I'm aiding a rich vigilante who's set on destroying the criminal classes after disappearing for seven years? I see no reason to.' I brushed myself off. 'Right! First, I need to finish a couple of calculations. You can wait if you like, I shouldn't be too long.' I put three biscuits each in the gap between my right-hand fingers.

'Alright.' He followed me, as I picked up the flask and moved away to another work area. He then wandered around for a few minutes as I began work.

'For goodness sake,' I muttered, looking around the tiny work area I'd assigned the project. The walls were lined with paper and I was stuck, no more space. Then I glanced at the top of the small, short walls and frowned thoughtfully, like a cartoon when hatching a plan. I shrugged and went to find a board.

I'd screwed it in place and had attached the last bit of blueprint paper with pins when Bruce Wayne walked past. He frowned and sat down at a chair next to the set of drawers with the suit in it. I picked a pen from the holder and began working. I groaned when it didn't work and switched to pencil, which I hated. So I used a felt tip, but soon that became as effective as the pen.

Annoyed, I threw it out of the small space. It skidded to a halt by Bruce Wayne's feet. He looked surprised, but mostly amused. I stormed off and returned, being tracked by the still bemused eyes, with a case of wire and tiny strips of metal.

I then angrily dismantled the nearest pen and snapped the case open, rigged up a system inside the pen and returned the case, leaving the pen on the bench. Bruce Wayne had stood up and was inspecting my pen by drawing on the paper on the ceiling. He paused, to me almost comically, when I looked up and saw him, arm still suspended in the air.

'How did you make this so quickly?' He lowered his arm.

'Simple. Pressure still gets applied to the pen, I added a few bits that in turn push the ink up the tube. I can write against gravity.'

Bruce Wayne raised his eyebrows. 'Impressive. ... Can you fight against gravity?'

I didn't even bother to glance at him. 'Only on magnetic surfaces.' I paused then as an afterthought; 'or Velcro.'

'Hm!' he laughed.

I smiled back, before returning to seriousness. 'I'll spend another twenty minutes on this.'

He nodded and sat down again, resting one leg over the other.

In fifteen minutes I was done and turned to Bruce Wayne.

'You want what?'

'A gun that makes all the noises a gun does, but isn't a gun.'

I blinked at Bruce Wayne from under the finished mathematics. I put my mechanical pen down. 'When on Earth will that ever come in handy?'

'When I need people to think I've got a gun to their heads.'

'Not a motion I'd expect from you,' I said, 'but there is one thing…'

He raised his eyebrows. 'There is?'

'Uh huh, follow me.'

'This place has everything.'

I chuckled to myself.

While Bruce Wayne stood still and watch as I pretended to go through a chest of miscellaneous crap, though I wasn't pretending about the miscellaneous crap part, when I ducked down. I grabbed a stapler, moved behind Bruce Wayne and pressed it to the back of his head, making sure to move it enough so that it'd click. He tensed and spun round, ready to grab whoever was behind him. He paused when he realised it was me.

'You're very jumpy, Mr Wayne.'

'That's what seven years of travelling does to you.'

I pulled the stapler from behind his head and he blinked at it.

'Oh.' He cleared his throat.

'The stapler's on old invention.' I tossed it to him. He gave a single chuckle.

'Thank you.'

'The rest of your gear?'

He tilted his head fifteen degrees and waited. '… It's all at Wayne Manor.'

I blinked. 'Right. When do you want me there?'

'Whenever,' he shrugged pleasantly.

I was tempted to make a remark about the next decade, so I did.

'Maybe a little sooner,' he said, smiling and trying not to laugh.

'This evening, then.'

'Alright, see you then, Dr Pendragon.'

I blinked.

'Oh! Evelyn.' He corrected, then flicked a hand at me. 'But you have to call me "Bruce".'

I nodded and he returned it with a nod of his own, walking away with a last amused look at my conical flask.

That evening I turned up at Wayne Manor in my black Mercedes. I knocked on the door, admiring the stone the building was made from. A butler, very friendly and slightly witty looking opened the door.

'Ah! You must be Dr Pendragon. You look clever enough.'

'Is it the lack of glasses?' I replied.

He smiled. 'Perhaps. It was more the calculating glance.'

I smiled. 'I see.'

'Come in,' he said and held the door open ever further for me. I nodded my thanks and stepped into the large entrance hall, glancing around.

'I'm Alfred. Master Wayne is out at the moment, in a – meeting of sorts.'

'Holding up a policeman with a stapler for information on Falcone?' I asked knowingly, as if discussing what shenanigans a child was performing in his room.

Alfred laughed a little. 'I'm not sure about the stapler, Dr Pendragon.'

I raised my eyebrows. I definitely liked Alfred.

'He mentioned you were going to help with his gear.'

'That's me,' I said.

'He gave me the run down on you,' Alfred said, walking slightly sideways so he could see me as he took me further into the house, 'you aren't just a scientist, are you?'

'Lucius often oversells my combat abilities, if that's what you're referring to,' I said fairly plainly, though still brightly. I noticed a few family photographs.

'That must be it, then. You're not going out on patrols with Master Wayne, are you?'

'Something tells me I might end up doing that,' I said with a slight sigh.

'Well, the company will do him good, I think.' Alfred stopped when we came to the next room and pulled back a bookshelf.

'We're going to make the piano open this, but we haven't decided on the notes yet.'

'Ah,' I said, examining the grand piano. It was old and beautiful. I played a bar from the Moonlight Sonata as Alfred fiddled with a lift behind the bookshelf.

'There are caves underneath the manor. We're using it as a base.'

'Neat,' I nodded and stepped on.

The cavern ceiling was lined with bats and a few tables had been set up by the lift. Lights were on and flickering, and the corner of my eye caught sight of a few plans. 'Here's the gear he didn't take with him,' said Alfred.

I nodded and slung my bag off of my shoulder. 'I'll get started on this.'

Alfred stepped back to let me pass. 'I'm not sure why he's trusting you,' he said, 'but seeming as he is, I'd better offer you a cup of tea.'

I turned my head. 'That's be lovely, Alfred, thank you!' I said gratefully.

He winked and made to leave. 'I'll bring some biscuits as well.'

I chuckled. Either Alfred was very perceptive or Bruce had told him I have an issue with biscuits.