"Just where were you last night? Your presence was noticeably absent from Gotham's Winery."

"Wallpapering. Alfred, I think these weirdoes's have something to do with the spike in crime on Mondays. They've been here during the spike. We should attend one of their meetings."

"Wallpapering? What exactly were you wallpapering?"

"We can go this afternoon. When were the code people coming? Have you chased them away yet?"

"Master Bruce."

Bruce looked up from where he stood drinking a rather strong cup of black coffee, leant causally against the steel refrigerator in nothing more then a pair of broken-in jeans and a white t-shirt. Newspaper in hand.

"What exactly were you wallpapering? Do you even know how to wallpaper?'

Bruce sipped his coffee, "Athena showed me how to do it. You were right Alfred."

Smelling the coffee, Alfred made a face and decided to open a window to get the smell out of the kitchen. He was a hot tea man. "Oh?"

"Yes. I need a social life and attending mind-numbing social gatherings is not it. According to this they're having a healing session…today at two. We should go."

Once the window was open the smell of freshly mowed grass floated in.

Grass that Alfred didn't mow.

Which put a smile upon his face.

"So you're taking to wallpapering as a social event?"

Bruce lowered the paper and looked across the kitchen at Alfred, the sound of power tools and hammers droned on in the background as the last bit of rebuilding was done on Wayne Manor. "No. I'm adding variety to my social outings."

"Variety," Alfred muttered, strolling to another window and opening it. "Does that mean you'll be laying tile for her? Or painting her car?"

Ignoring his friend, confidant and closest thing to family, Bruce continued, "According to Fox these people hate the wealthy…so we'll have to dress down. Do you have any jeans? A t-shirt? Sandals?"

A look of disgust crossed Alfred's face, "I most certainly do not Master Wayne!"

"I'll find something for you then. Do you prefer jeans or shorts?"

Alfred turned quickly, "Neither. Why can't you take your new friend with you?"

"She's at work." Bruce sipped his coffee. Then he had a flash of brilliance, "A jogging suit. That way you'll match and be in a suit. We'll just have to find some sneakers for you, and take a cab there."

At that Alfred gave up.

He walked from the windows and to the coffee maker, turning it off. "Do you intend to do anything tonight?"

For a moment Bruce pondered the question.

Which caught Alfred's attention. He glanced at the man who stood so comfortably against the steel appliance.

"Depends on what I learn this afternoon."

2:27 that afternoon…

Alfred walked down the aisle of the old theater which held plays, solo concerts, and even the occasional opera in a navy blue jogging suit that had white strips up the side.

A pair of brand new sneakers Bruce had rubbed in the garden on his feet.

Feeling out of place was an understatement.

He looked around the filling seats for Bruce. Who had decided to split up when they arrived. Looking fashionable in jeans, a t-shirt, and baseball cap Bruce wandered towards the stage door, taking a seat where he would be able to sneak backstage if he so desired.

Alfred looked upwards, at the cloud painted ceiling, wondering how he had let Bruce talk him into it. Along with a jogging suit that made noises with every step. It just wasn't dignified.

Upon finding a seat that suited him, Alfred sat down, attempting to get comfortable. He fiddled with the zipper and smiled at the woman beside him kindly. The woman in turn asked, "Have you ever been to one of the great prophet's healing sessions?"

Alfred shook his head, "No ma'am."

She pointed a pudgy finger to the program holder on the back of the seat in front of Alfred, "You must fill out that survey. The prophet needs to know everything about you in order to help you achieve inner telicity."

Alfred blinked.

He then took a piece of paper from the wooden holder and looked over the survey. His heart skipped a beat. Perhaps Bruce was onto something. When he read over the survey which had questions that asked for address, total income, working hours, place of work, schooling, religious affiliation, last doctor appointment, immunization record, social security number and continued into far more personal questions Alfred deemed improper.

Across the theater…

As Bruce looked over the survey in utter disbelief, and the man beside him who filled it out without missing a question, he felt the cell phone in his pocket vibrate.

It took him a moment to dig his phone out, flip it open and put it to his ear, "Hey darling."

Over the phone came an exasperated voice, "Bruce. I thought I told you we weren't dating."

He folded the survey up and put it in his pocket, along with the information on Prophet Negly. "I do recall something like that. Why?"

"Well I found something rather peculiar in my mailbox."

"Did you?"

"Now…tell me Mr. Wayne, where am I supposed to wear these? To work?"

"No, dinner, tonight. Is four too early?"

"Four? For what the early bird special?"

He laughed, a real laugh. Had he not been doing spying he would have forgotten himself, "No, Vrato's. They close at six."

There was a pause.

Followed by, "Bruce…that is not a place two people go who are merely bed-buddies."

Bruce became aware of someone beside him. While he glanced up he told her, "Well let's re-evaluate our relationship."

The usher tapped Bruce on the shoulder and leant down, "Sir. The Great and most Knowledgeable Prophet forbids use of the cell phone within the same building as him. It disruptes his inner balance."