The next morning, Jason was tired, with dark rings under his eyes and a slight sprinkling of stubble from the lack of shaving within the past days. Bruce raised an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior, especially when Jason took his coffee black, with the sugar on the side. Jason never had sugar on the side, nor did he eat it with a spoon. His green eyes looked haunted, as though he had seen something he wished he hadn't.
"Everything all right, Jason?" Bruce put down the morning paper. "You don't look well."
"I have a hunch my girlfriend is hiding a very important thing from me. I have to find out, but I don't want to upset her. She gave me a valuable hint last night. Now I have to level with her." Jason put his head in his hands. "What am I getting into?"
"Next time you see her, ask her about it. Even if it's hard to do, you need to do this. Even if she gets mad, it's better than having a secret driving a wedge between the two of you. Now come on, let's get you cleaned up. We have a press conference to attend today, and I can't have you looking like this and being miserable."
An hour later, they were exiting the limousine, dressed in pinstriped suits and combed hair. The faint smell of aftershave lingered on their skin like the promises you hear from whores- empty and hollow, with a hint of pine. They stepped up to the stage, where some unnamed woman, no doubt underpaid, introduced them to the crowd. The flashes of a thousand cameras went off, blinding them for a moment, and questions fired off like cannons, filling the air with sound.
"People, please." Bruce spoke into the microphone. "I will answer each question one at a time."
"Is it true that Wayne Tech is producing a new security system that uses brain waves to detect a person's intent once inside the home?" some greasy, malnourished reporter asked, a tape recorder at his arms length.
"No, that isn't true. We are making a new security system, but it has nothing to do with brain waves and everything to do with retina scans." Bruce was cut off by a new question.
"Is the Jenkins corporation merging with Wayne Enterprises?" another reporter cut in.
"Yes. We are planning it to start next week, if everything clears in with the board." Bruce answered, only to be asked the question he was hoping to not be asked.
"Mr. Wayne, is it true your new apprentice Jason Todd is dating the ward of Mr. Jenkins?"
Bruce sighed. "Yes. This is true, but it is none of my business, and none of yours for that matter. What happens between Mr. Todd and other people is not my concern, as long as he behaves himself."
This caused an onslaught of questions towards Jason. He was caught off-guard, and stammered answers that didn't need to be.
"Mr. Todd, is it true that you are seeing Ms. Mercer?"
"I- I guess so, yeah."
"Jason, can you tell us anything about Ms. Mercer?"
"No, that's not my business to tell."
"Mr. Todd, can we assume that the merger between the two companies was aided by your relationship?"
"No, it has nothing to do with it." The questions got more and more intrusive, and the little voice, his conscience, was being overwhelmed by his anger. How dare these ingrates intrude upon his love life? What business was it of theirs? He snapped, and the anger took over.
"That's enough! What right do you have to be this rude, this, this asinine to someone who just wants to have a life? Is it not good enough for you to already know about the company? Why do we have to put on this dog and pony show for you monkeys, anyway?" he screamed at them, veins in his neck popping out, his teeth grinding together. He grabbed a reporter by the lapels of his grimy jacket. "Why do you even bother? Why? Can't we have a bit of peace?"
"Jason, stop!" Bruce pulled Jason off the reporter, appalled at the scene. Pictures were snapped a mile a minute, flashing wildly. Jason struggled, his rage seeping into chaos. Someone ran up to them, and took Jason's hand.
"Jason, honey, you need to stop," Rozalin begged, rubbing his hand. "It's alright." she turned towards the crowd. "I think these two have had enough. Good day, and please be kind in your reports."
They dragged the still huffing Jason off the stage and back into the safety of the limo.
"What the hell was that?" Bruce raged. "We don't harm others, especially reporters who write about us."
"They had it coming!" Jason roared. "They were poking around where they shouldn't! Those people need to learn that not everything is news. Not everything is supposed to be blasted all over the front page. Not people's lives." he began to calm down.
"It's alright, Jason." Rozalin soothed his panting, angry form. "They were just curious. We aren't as important as Bruce here, but we are prominent figures in business now. We're not scared kids on crime alley anymore. People are going to ask questions. We just have to go with it for now, and keep our secrets hidden. You know, give them a show, and they'll be satisfied."
"That... that makes sense." Jason was calm by now. "Maybe tonight I need to get out. Work has been stressful lately." he looked to Bruce.
"I'll give you the night off, if you can find a way to relax." Bruce allowed.
"I've got an idea." Rozalin smiled at Jason. "How about you and I go to the new club tonight? It's the grand opening, and they expect someone important to show up, so why not us? That way we can show we can have fun, without them really delving into things, like what we talk about over dinner."
"Fine. But if this ends horribly, don't be mad at me." Jason grumped.
"Now why would I do that?"
Jason decided it was time to make a move. Or at least impress her. Perhaps he should just steer clear of her and let her do what she wants? He sighed. He used to know everything about her. But now she was older, wiser. Much more attractive. He disregarded the semi formal garb in his closet. Night clubs were for tight clothing, leather jackets, and good bands. All of which sat in the drawers of his dresser. How convenient.
The band on his T- shirt was an unknown beauty, not one of those mass- produced concert shirts that you could pick up at Walmart to fit in when you can't name a single one of their hits. He hated hypocrites like that. If you didn't know the band, don't wear the shirt. How hard was that to figure out? The leather of his jacket was polished and shined under the lights of the manor. He adjusted the belt on his ripped and worn jeans. There was no way in Hell that he was going to wear a pair of those hip- hugging, vampire book- loving, sparkly assed skinny jeans. Nor was he going to wear leather pants. He was not going to be caught dead on the covers of glossy magazines looking like one of those little emo kids that cry in the corner. Not for the first time this week, he was nervous. Undeniably, terrifyingly nervous. Like he was about to put his neck under the guillotine nervous. What if she was going to stand him up? What if he screwed the whole thing up after his outrage today? What if she found someone else? Who else would be there? He prayed Dick Grayson wouldn't be there. Heaven help him if he had to see that prick's smug face as he flirted with Rozalin. After all, who wouldn't?
The doorbell rang, the sound of chimes filling the air. Suddenly his panic level jumped. A small panic attack filled his brain with screams of obscenities, as Alfred answered the door in his usual all business manner.
"Miss Mercer, do come in. May I take your coat, or will you not be staying long?" he asked in a kindly curious manner, and Rozalin shook her head.
"No, I'm just waiting for Jason to come down the stairs and take me out. Hermes doesn't like being out this late, so he just dropped me off." she answered sweetly, but Jason could hear the lie in her voice. There was no Hermes. She walked here by herself, the stubborn girl.
Alfred could sense the lie as well, but the only response he gave at this was a raised eyebrow. "Very well then. I shall alert him of your arrival."
"That won't be necessary, Alfred," Jason stepped out from the landing of the stairs. He took them two at a time, talking all the while. "We'll be at new club, um, what's it's name? Throttle?"
"Clutch," Rozalin corrected, and Jason looked at her.
"Wow, you look great. I feel kind of shabby now. Should I go change?" he took in her tight red dress. It was some kind of skin tight, shiny material. Not chiffon, not cotton, more like the under armor shirts, but his train of thought was cut off by Rozalin blushing, no doubt from his ogling.
"No, you look fine." Rozalin smiled warmly. He didn't believe her, but if she wanted him to wear that, he would.
"We'll be back at, well, we'll be back sometime." Jason addressed Alfred, taking the camaro's keys from him. "If you need us, we'll probably be there."
"Very good sir." Alfred saw them off, and sighed as they drove down the long driveway to downtown Gotham. "Some things just don't change," he thought of Bruce and Richard's romantic escapades. Something about caped crusaders just brought about the ladies.