Barbara opened her eyes at the sound of a slow, repetitive beep. Fluorescent lights glared into her retinas; her hand intuitively rubbed her eyes to erase the headache they immediately caused. She was curled up over two plastic chairs, her hip jabbed by the metal division raised slightly higher than the bucket seats, enough to misalign her body after an incapacitated and ill timely rest.
She wanted to leap into action last night, but her eyelids resisted again her will. When Grayson suggested she lay down for a moment before they proceeded with their investigation, she complied. Within moments she was unconscious.
She recalled falling asleep with her head in Graysons lap, but awoke with a soft, hospital white pillow propping her up. Grayson had moved one chair over, her head replaced by a slim, matte black laptop, a flash drive sticking out the side. The same flash drive Barbara had tucked in her bra.
Grayson only noticed her breaking her slumber when she sat upright beside him.
"When-?" Barbara croaked out, glancing at the laptop.
"After you fell asleep. It was just in the back of my car. Hope you don't mind I helped myself to our findings." Grayson's playful look travelled to Barbara's chest.
"Not at all. What's the news?" Barbara lifted the pillow and shifted over to the chair beside Grayson. She had to strain her neck to properly see the screen. Wayne Tech required privacy protection on every device. Smart move by Fox, Barbara admired, but tedious in moments like this.
"Greg's life is a fucking mess," Grayson stated. "His appointment calendar is impossible. Nothing is colour coded. Like, make a distinctive event flow, buddy" Grayson sighed as he flipped through the last few months of randomly noted appointments searching for a name or place he deemed relevant.
"May I?" Barbara held out her hand. With a heavy sigh, Grayson relinquished the computer to her. He stood up, arching his back. Plastic chairs were not meant to function for long periods of stay; especially not 5 hours of uninterrupted hard drive searching. He figured he would let her work.
The hospital was much quieter now as Grayson strolled down the hall to a wall of vending machines. Most of the snack rows were empty, and there was no way he was pouring an ingestible coffee from these machines. He decided to walk the two blocks to Jitters, knowing Barbara wouldn't notice his absence.
He walked into the dawn of the city, his most preferred time of day in Gotham. There was a coolness that hung in the morning air that made him wish he'd grabbed his jacket when fetching the laptop. With his Porsche parked in the opposite direction, Grayson decided to quicken his pace rather than go back.
As he stood in the short line, he pondered his usual suspects. There were the typical drug lords in Gotham, but he didn't think they would deal with the frat boys. Everyone had their preferences. So what was the reason for this connection, Grayson mulled over the link as he stirred the sugar into Barbara's cup.
Heading out of the coffee shop, the city had awoken further. More people rushed passed him, bright eyed for the day ahead. He had a hunch as to the mastermind, but didn't want to lead Barbara on the wrong path unnecessarily. He needed more proof. He needed to see what she had uncovered.
Luckily, and as per usual, she worked fast. She glanced up as he approached her, feet crossed underneath her with the laptop resting on her knees. Her face brightened as she saw the cup of coffee in his hand, absentmindedly reaching her hand out in gratitude.
"That's the look of someone with a lead," Grayson smiled at her.
"The Rossum building," Barbara paused to take a sip of her coffee. "He makes almost daily stops there. Either a meetup point for his lackeys or where he gets the supply."
"How'd you figure that?"
"Every time he synced his phone, it downloaded the gps tracker. From his fitness app. He literally drew me a map." She was always proud of the level of stupidity she found in criminals.
"Babs, he's a student. What if he was going to classes? You can't be certain he would only be there for the drug deals."
"The Rossum Building is sciences. Mainly computer sciences, but also has a chem and bio lab on the top two floors," Barbara paused, seeing if Grayson would catch on. "Greg majors in art history. No chance he was setting foot in Rossum for a class. Especially not that frequently."
"Then let's go," Grayson reached for the laptop Barbara had already closed, handing out to him. His urgency matched hers, as the two moved their way through the the emergency room into the bright daylight.