She'd met him in fifth grade.

When gossiping with other girls, the way they saw in popular, high school romance flicks, was the trend, and boys were no longer icky, cootie infested, burdens.

She'd met him in the summer.

Just weeks before break, when children began getting rowdy and excited to finally be out of the hellhole they called school, and the wind no longer felt as though it were pricking her with thousands of needles, when it blew.

That was when she'd met him.

"That guy over there has been staring at you all class."

Jeannie looked up at Diana, confused. Even more so when her friend of four years gestured over towards the other side of the classroom. Her wandering blue eyes met his with ease, and she paused for a moment. The inky pools seemed to be piercing into her from across the room but Jeannie shook her head at the notion and continued searching for the mystery guy her friend had been speaking of.

When she came up short, she sighed, and looked back over at her friend with a raised eyebrow. "What guy?" Diana didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to circle in the next question on her worksheet, before she decided to look back up. Diana glanced around again, and rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"God, I swear the dumb blonde stereotype was made by you sometimes. The only guy that's looking at you, Jeannie." The girl's olive, silly band infested, wrist gestured toward the opposite side of the dull room once more, modestly. Something the clumsy, Jeannette Lovat, could never hope to achieve. With a sigh, the petite blonde let her gaze wander among the class full of students, only managing to catch the calculating dark brown eyes, once more.

Jeannie gave up, quietly. Turning back to Diana and dropping her attention back to her boring science worksheet. Only a few minutes passed in silence between the two girls, before Diana looked back up, her almond shaped eyes narrowed at her friend, inquisitively. "Ya' see him?" The silence answered her question better than Jeannie ever could have, and Diana let out an aggravated groan.

"Come on, Jeannie, not even you are that oblivious." But she was, it seemed, because she had no clue what on Earth, Diana Lawrence was talking about. The young Jeannie continued scribbling in answers until the pencil was tugged from her hand. Jeannie rested her head on her chin lazily and huffed at the girl sitting across from her.

"What?" It was said a little more venomously than she'd meant, the bite in the word hadn't been necessary, but the sass had been as uncontrollable as always, it was something that was all around, Jeannie.

"Curly hair, dirty blonde, dark eyes, tanned skin." Diana began listing off things but Jeannie simply couldn't accept the thought that he'd been doing anything other than accidentally looking over when she had, a coincidence. "You knooow, the reeeeal tall kid, doesn't talk?" How her friend had gone an entire year in a class and not learned everyone's name was a true puzzle to Jeannie.

"Jack Napier. Yeah, I know." She paused and tapped her bitten nail against the desk. "It was probably just an accident, though?" The resounding scoff made Jeannie want to snarl something she'd later regret at Diana, but she chose to just continue talking instead. "He was probably just zoned out, anyway."

Diana shrugged, her braided pony tail following the action, sweeping back behind her shoulder. She ignored her friend's clipped tone, wisely, and chose to change the topic. "You've gotta' let me borrow those earrings sometime, Jen. They make your neck look so much smaller." The corner of the blonde's mouth quirked up, at it's own accord and Jeannette crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in her seat.

"Only if you let me borrow some your new bands." The tanned girl threw a braid over her shoulder and laughed with Jeannie.

"Deal."

Everyone knew of the surname Napier, in Gotham city it was a brand. The man, John Napier being the very reason of that trademark. He was the corrupt police chief, that basically let the mafia take the city by storm. He was a junkie, too useless, and drugged out of his mind to even lock up a cat burglar. But, nobody would do anything, the man had the charisma, and charm of a snake. Slime balls flocked to his side, people like him, longed to be with their own kind . The boy, however, the bastard son, that was, Jack Napier. He was avoided, like a nuisance, a plague. Teachers and students alike, avoided the child, in fear they would catch the abuse he'd been given all his life, by simply breathing the same air.

Jack Napier was alone in the world, free from any physical contact, aside from a fist to the face. Anyone who knew what was good for them would stay away. It was an unspoken rule, a law among the society within Gotham, to keep from the trouble that followed him, loomed over him, like a sullen cloud.

Jeannette Lovat had never been good at following rules.

Especially when people told her specifically, not to do something, it became like an itch. An itch that she didn't have the will power not to scratch, she figured the result was always interesting enough.

Truth be told, Jack Napier, had never truly caught her eye, the itch hadn't been there before. Not until, she'd caught his eye. Because, each time she'd felt his eyes on her, her curiosity grew. Whenever the burning feeling from his stare dissipated, she'd risk a glance in his direction, he was always alone, head down, posture slouched, and only if you looked past the cold glare, could you see the true frown that weighed at the corner of his mouth.

Jeannie had always liked studying people.

So, studying Jack Napier was quite the treat when she got the chance. But, she made sure to keep her blue eyes adverted when his weren't.

Until, she got bored of that, which, in all honesty, wasn't for very long at all. Jeannie figured she'd seen enough, after the third day of just observing, to do any more, she decided she'd have to get closer.

She did. Again, modesty wasn't her 'strong' suit. Not at all. Many times her blunt, forward behavior had sent people running, far away, where she preferred them, anyhow, if she were being truthful. But, she promised herself she wouldn't scare, Jack, she'd be civil, and… polite.

Flinging herself in the seat across from him, probably hadn't been a good start, she could admit. His dark gaze was unwavering as it was unnerving, and he didn't flinch away like most people would. That made her, somewhat, happy, she threw him a toothy smile and rested her chin on her palm.

"Hiiii."

Nothing.

Not that she'd expected much from him, but her smile didn't drop in the slightest. "My name's Jeannette, but most people just call me, Jeannie." Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from the pressure, and Jeannie imagined she probably looked something like the cheshire cat, by now. So, she let it rest, into more of a natural smirk on her cherry popsicle, stained lips. Jeannie watched him swallow, his dark gaze still intimidatingly blank.

"Yeah, I know." It was a weird thing, hearing someone's voice for the first time. Jeannie had assumed it would be many things, croaky, and prepubescent, or high and strained. But, the monotonous lilt had her eyebrows raising, along with the deep timbers that weren't quite that of a teenager, but certainly not of an ten year old, either.

Jeannie grunted, miffed, and began tapping her fingers against the table, slowly. "Well, Mr. I know, this would normally be the part where you tell me your name so we can continue having a conversation like civil human beings." Jeannie mentally kicked herself. The sass had slipped, once again, from it's leash, and into a sentence that she had meant to be friendly.

Still, she waited.

"Yeah, I know." He repeated. But, Jeannie refused to break eye contact until he continued, which he did, with some coaxing. "What makes you think I wanna' converse with you?" And then, she wished he hadn't.

"Well, if not, then ya' sure know how to send some pretty big mixed signals, bud. With all the googly eyed staring, and what not." Jeannie huffed and crossed her arms, fuming to herself, that she'd wasted her time, her niceness, on some boy who couldn't return the same decency. Just as she readied herself to stand and storm away, he spoke.

"I like your clips."

The surprise must have shown on her face, or perhaps the confusion she felt at what he meant, but either way, he snorted and adjusted his long legs beneath the table more comfortably, right next to her's. Jeannie didn't jump away, but she felt burned, until he waved his hand like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"The things, in your hair?" Jeannie brought her hand up to remember her purple butterfly barrette she'd placed there, that morning. Her mouth formed in an 'o', but the scraggly haired boy who looked more like a stretched out, lanky teenager, than an elementary schooler, continued, crossing his arms, defensively.

"..make it look soft..." Jeannie didn't know how to respond at first, to the unexpected confession, so instead she flashed him another smile, and pretended her freckled cheeks weren't blushing.

"I have another set you could borrow sometime…" She could have smacked herself, she was mortified, but the smirk that split his downcast mouth into a half smile made her want to do it all over again.

There were mortified sounds of various gasps and whispers shared in the large cafeteria and Jeannie didn't need to look to know that it was pretty much the entire school staring at her, and Jack Napier, smiling, and bantering like friends.

It was definitely a good thing that Jeannie Lovat didn't give a damn about what people thought, because once she'd seen the beginning of Jack Napier's smile, she just knew she was gonna' be working from then on to see it, again, and again, and again. Even if she lost some companions along the way.

She watched as her usual table of friends glared her way, only Diana offered a small smile to her, along with a wave. Jeannie returned it instantly before turning back to Jack and beaming at his twinkling, russet eyes and kicking his leg away, playfully.

Jeannie Lovat didn't mind one bit.