3. #Gotham

The moment he sees those light green eyes drilling into him upon the door opening, Jason makes a mental sigh.

Ah, shit, here we go.

"Either punctuality is a foreign concept to you, or you got lost on the way here."

He watches as Sabina doesn't even wait for a response, turning to grab her purse and then walk right past him with an air of something that is soft yet spicy and warm. And expensive. For a split second, Jason determines that damn, it actually smells really good before reverting back to Bodyguard Red Hood mode. Seeing that she's already in the elevator and about to push the button, he checks to make sure the penthouse door is locked and then hurriedly sticks an arm between the closing elevator doors. Kind of rude, but fine. Beside him, the heiress appears ready for the back-to-back meetings he also has to attend… unfortunately. Her black hair falls in perfect, shiny waves over her shoulders, and she's wearing some kind of businesslike outfit that consists of some belted blazer and shiny, heeled boots. The toes look pointed enough to hurt someone if she really wanted to try.

He doesn't even want to guess at how much money she's wearing.

"It's a little bit of both," Red Hood decides to respond to her comment.

She looks over, about to snap one more time, when he continues, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you the real reason I'm late, so either excuse works for me, princess."

Her gaze narrows. "Do not call me 'princess.'"

"Heiress."

"That's even worse—"

"Yeah, yeah, alright, Miss DeKnight."

Sabina's eyes run over him… but not in the same way the drunk women he almost ran into last night did (he was chasing after some of Penguin's cronies). The elevator dings as its doors open to the parking garage, so she walks past him before he can get out first.

"It's 'ma'am' to you."

So that makes it three times now that she's gotten the last word in and walked off like she did it every day, and honestly, Sabina DeKnight probably did. But even if Red Hood did want to stop the heiress and try to piss her off even more, he's missed his chance. She's on the phone with someone with half the conversation in Italian as they walk to where the SUV provided by Darkwater awaits.

(Having to drive her around in anything other than his own bike is one of the few requirements that he has to abide by, but it is what it is.)

Red Hood didn't really get lost on the way to her penthouse nor is he all that bad at being on time. It's just easier to fuck with her and play along rather than explain the complications of spontaneous, 3 a.m. stakeouts and last minute street chases. She wouldn't understand.

If by chance, she did, something tells him she would still find a reason to throw a fit.

Neither of them say a word through Gotham's early morning traffic even after Sabina finishes her phone call. Jason debates saying something — most likely anything to get under her skin — when she reaches to turn on the radio.

"… recently arrived in Gotham City to fulfill some long-overdue, philanthropic projects, he says. Ariel was born and raised here, so it's been quite a while since—"

He watches her switch the station with a beep.

"… not unusual for her to be seen with a bodyguard or two out in public, but what's really odd is that the person at her side seems to be none other than our very own Red H—"

Another beep.

"… happen to warrant hiring one of these masked vigilantes as protection?"

She pushes the volume button with too much force to turn the radio off and sits back, turning to look out the window.

"Don't like hearing about yourself?" Jason asks.

Sabina's eyes dart in his direction. "They're not talking about me. They're talking about you."

"Is that why you turned it off?"

When she doesn't answer, he just chuckles to himself and turns his attention back to the road.

It's not like he didn't see this coming. He and Roy went over it thoroughly after his first talk with Ariel because it's not every day that known outlaws and vigilantes willingly put themselves out there in public, in broad daylight, let alone work as a bodyguard for some celebrity. Not only does it draw a shit ton of attention… but this job is also leaving Red Hood open to all sorts of opportunities that disgruntled criminals and enemies might take.

If the rest of the criminal underworld sees that he's occupied with being her security, then they'll be salivating at the chance to do what they do best, assuming he's not around.

Hence this morning's early adventures because all those idiots are dead wrong — Red Hood isn't out of business, full-time bodyguard or not.

"Starstruck" is the simplest way to describe the reactions they get when they arrive at the twenty-story business complex in the heart of downtown Gotham. Almost every single person they pass from the sidewalk to the front desk stops and ogles for a solid three seconds or more, including the security guards that seem to eye the outlaw in poorly-concealed wariness. (Jason swears that one of them almost reached for the gun at his waist out of reflex — or pure panic, maybe.) At the checkpoint where they wait for Sabina and her unconventional bodyguard to walk through the metal detector, he can't help but tease the rigid security guys a little.

"Just gonna set these here," he tells them while placing his two handguns in one of the plastic trays on the rolling belt. And then he gives a head tilt with a canny "Like any other law-abiding, good citizen."

With illegal, unregistered firearms, but what are they gonna do about that?

The guard to his left doesn't say anything but Jason can read the unspoken questioning look on his face. With a sigh, he pulls various gadgets and tools from inside his jacket and drops them into the tray, one by one. On the other side of the metal detector, Sabina appears entirely unamused with what's happening as she stops to wait for him.

When Red Hood moves to walk through, the same guard holds up a hand. Well, the guy's smart enough to know that what's in the tray isn't everything… yet dumb enough to think the vigilante will do anything about it.

"That's the best I can do unless you want me to strip down," Hood says, only half-joking, with a sweeping gesture over his body armor and the shin-guards that are often a pain in the ass to put on.

Thankfully, Guard 1 presses his lips together and gestures for him to continue on.

As soon as Red Hood walks through the detector, its lights start blinking and flashing. Feet away, Sabina crosses her arms and rests her stony, jaded gaze on him. She might be doing a good job of not reacting or making a scene, but hell, one would think she could look a little less impatient? People in the lobby are pointing and whispering, but he works to ignore them, keeping his attention on the guards. Jason's eyes follow Guard 1, who walks over with a handheld detector while Guard 2 at the computer monitor leans forward in his chair to peer at the unfamiliar weapons in the tray.

"Hands up," Guard 1 tells him gruffly.

The device beeps immediately when the man starts waving it over the outlaw's body and continues to do so whether he moves it up or down. His waist beeps, his feet beep, his masked head beeps. The two guards share a look that has Red Hood shrugging apologetically, gloved hands still in the air.

"I mean, I told you so."

"I'm assuming that happens often," Sabina comments when the two of them make it into the elevator after she checked in — but not without the secretary telling her all about how she's purchased every single lingerie set the heiress has modeled for Chantelle & Co.

(Somehow, Jason doubts that was the weirdest thing anyone has ever said to her. Sabina took it well, though, beaming and telling her she was flattered.)

Maybe it's just him, but it sounds like she's annoyed. Shocker.

"You're talking about what happened at the checkpoint?" Hood asks, gesturing with his hand as the elevator starts moving. "No, not really."

She doesn't respond, not having looked at him, and then the outlaw adds thoughtfully, "I don't frequent metal detectors or even front doors."

Neither does he often voluntarily remove his weapons for the sake of civil compliance, but he doesn't have to share that.

The elevator music plays quietly as Sabina continues to stare silently at the doors. Part of Jason is a tad surprised she commented on the situation at all, but another figures it's in her nature to bring up thoughts no one asked for.

Did he know they would go through all that nonsense? Of course he did. But that didn't make it any less unsettling to give up his gear, albeit for just a minute, and with the entire lobby watching. Though Jason is all around used to being a spectacle and gawked at, he knew from the beginning that this would be much different. And to think this is guaranteed to happen again…

They stop at the floor for the woman who, according to Sabina's schedule for the day, is a prospective partner for the DeKnight family's foundation campaign. Red Hood takes a step forward to exit (first, this time) when he hears her mumble behind him,

"Just another thing to get used to."

Sabina closes the messages app on her phone with an internal sigh. It should come as no surprise that her publicist has already gathered a handful of social media mentions and headlines and, per Sabina's request, sent a few along for her to see.

She's been in Gotham for just over 24 hours, and photos have already surfaced from the DeKnight family's first outing yesterday. As expected, Red Hood looks almost laughably out-of-place walking beside her outside of the restaurant and where he stood in the private room doorway. A majority of responses from unknown faces on the internet and the tabloid writers with nothing better to do consist mostly of utter confusion. Why is a known vigilante in Gotham hanging out with the likes of Ariel and Carmen DeKnight, multi-millionaire entrepreneurs and wine connoisseurs? Still, it's a valid question even to Sabina.

And then there are the comments she knew would come:

"Imagine how much he's getting paid to protect the rich."

"You think he's getting paid? he probably just wanted a reason to get close to Sabina. And I don't blame him!"

"Have you seen her? Dude is doing it for free."

"i don't get the hype. she's generically pretty, nothing special."

"Five bucks and a Big Belly meal says he's already hit."

"Lol no, three meals say SHE already hit"

"i'll take them both any day for free"

There's a reason why Sabina doesn't handle or have access to her own social media accounts. Frankly, there are several, and unwarranted opinions like these are just the tip of the iceberg.

Coordinating for an interview, her publicist Katrina texts. Already have four shows who really want to talk to you.

S: Foundation-related or vigilante-related?

K: Probably the latter but you know I'll do my best

Sabina does know. Her small but trustworthy team has proven competent when it comes to overseeing her work life, a silver lining in all things DeKnight-focused lately. It's especially helpful when her mother, who spends more time managing Sabina instead of being a mother, listens to people like Troy and Kat… even if not to her own daughter. Plus, someone like Kat understands what's actually important to Sabina, and she knows she'll go through all the necessary hoops to ensure that whatever interview lands in her lap, it will not be about Red Hood.

And speaking of the outlaw, Sabina is already grasping the nature of his reputation in Gotham as they travel throughout the city whose streets and buildings and people are completely foreign to her. Everywhere they have gone, he's drawn attention. Even now, as the two of them walk down the street among pedestrians to get to the cafe Troy wanted to try, it's obvious that it isn't just the odd outfit that intrigues people.

It's fascinating, the way his presence creates a kind of rift, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Though in this case, it's only Red Hood causing bystanders to move away after one glance at him as if getting too close will result in some kind of unpleasant consequence. Still, they don't know who to stare at — their eyes widen at his appearance then land on Sabina following shortly behind and back again on the tall vigilante before flickering once more to her. She's always shared this kind of attention with her family or other "celebrity" friends in the past, but it's something else entirely when this other person strikes something in the public's eyes that no one else has:

Fear.

Just as they near the cafe entrance, a paparazzo with a camera in hand suddenly appears, ready to intercept Sabina. He seems to be recording already, glancing at the built-in screen to get his shot right. Sabina's not even sure he noticed who's accompanying her.

"Sabina! Sabina, how are you liking Gotham—"

The man realizes a second too late that a larger, taller figure is stepping into the frame, directly between the camera and Sabina.

"Hey there. You got insurance for that?"

He looks up from the camera at Red Hood, eyes wide. "Uh, yeah?"

"You wanna file a claim today?"

"… N-no."

"Good. Put it away."

Red Hood pulls the door open for Sabina, who's watching the paparazzo turn his camera off with a nervous expression and shaking hands. When she glances at the outlaw, he tilts his head. "What?"

Imagine that, having to file a claim with insurance because a rugged vigilante broke your camera...

"You okay?" he asks as they finally enter.

Inhaling the lovely scents of baked goods and fresh coffee, Sabina allows her gaze to roam over the homey place that her friend picked out. It's difficult to formulate an opinion about its aesthetic or consider where to sit when nearly every single customer is staring and she's overwhelmed with an immense desire to walk right out.

Maybe we should have returned to the penthouse.

Keeping her features neutral and unbothered, she tells him, "I'm fine."

Some time later, Sabina and Troy are looking over the tablet between them while Red Hood sits nearby, feet propped up on another chair and one of his handguns laid out on the table. The heiress has been finding it hard to ignore him as her friend rambles through business talk, saying something about having found a decent dry cleaning place near the apartment and finalized a schedule for… something. She isn't paying that much attention.

A family with two boys that must not be older than ten years old enters the cafe, and immediately their eyes widen upon seeing the vigilante in the corner. Both boys turn to each other in a mix of shock and elation, tugging at their parents' sleeves and pointing at "that Red Hood guy!" Sabina watches as her new bodyguard nods and waves, still slouched in his chair, causing the kids to erupt in excited chatter that draws other people's interested eyes. In the middle of attempting to quiet her boys, the mother splits an uncertain gaze between Red Hood and Sabina while her husband says something the heiress can't hear or read from his lips.

But Sabina can't un-see it now: Like everyone else, the parents aren't merely confused. They're intrigued and leery of this masked man with guns hanging off his hips and sitting so casually in the cafe as if he's just hanging out like the rest of the customers.

"Hello? Sab?"

Sabina manages to wrench her attention from the family back to Troy, who's staring at her and pointing at the tablet with his pen. "Can you focus, please? We need to get this booked by tomorrow."

A quick scan of what he's showing her on the screen makes her stomach plummet. "Is this actually necessary? Why can't I just write an op-ed for the Gazette or even do an InstantGram live—?" she starts with exasperation.

"Because that's not how it works," Troy interrupts, tilting his head, "and you know that. People want you in a live setting. They want to hear from you and see that pretty face up-close."

"Well, I don't—"

"You don't care about people, yes, I know."

Her friend takes a long slurp of his iced coffee before tossing her a sympathetic yet stern look.

"If you want someone to pay attention to the Foundation, Sab, you need to do these interviews. Kat said she'll make sure the expectations are clear for the questions: nothing about—"

Troy glances over at Red Hood, who's still facing away from them and seemingly people-watching the rest of the cafe. Lowering his voice and turning back to Sabina, he finishes, "Your new bodyguard. It'll be strictly Foundation discussion. We'll prepare talking points as usual."

In response to her stubborn silence, Troy just waves his hand dismissively and checks his tablet again.

"Um, what else? Oh! Chantelle & Co. sent out their ambassador packages after we gave them your new P.O. box address, so we should be getting that soon. Kat should've gotten their details about posting on social, so I'll make sure to get those from her and we can set aside time to take some photos this week.

"Besides that, Mod reached out last week and with all the moving, I completely forgot to get back to them—"

"What about that club we looked up a while ago? What is it called again… Galactic? We're still going there this weekend, right?"

"It's Galaxy and yes, Sab, that's still the plan, but seriously, we need to get these planned out. I told your mom we'd have it all ready by Friday."

"All the more reason for me to get a drink," Sabina grunts before reaching for her coffee. She withholds a cringe after a sip, forgetting that it isn't as good as what she's used to.

Troy shrugs, eyes still on the notes on the tablet. "Okay, you aren't wrong, but back to business… Ugh, where was I? Why do you do this, Sab?" He ignores the baffled look on her face and continues, "You always derail the conversation and distract me—"

"Mod?"

Pointing his pen dramatically in the air, Troy continues, "Mod wants to put you in their lineup for their 'Get Ready with Me' series. They don't have an exact date for when the video would be published, but they need an answer by the end of the week."

"Fine. Sure. Whatever."

"Oh, we need to make your first Gotham post, too." He purses his lips in consideration, thinking aloud, "What if we do candid photos of you on the balcony tonight? That would be a pretty view with the lights."

"Yep, Mom would love it."

Before Troy can respond, a sudden screech of chair legs against linoleum makes them whip around to see Red Hood standing abruptly from where he'd been slouching. Two young women about Sabina's age are staring up at his towering figure, clearly ridden with nervousness. One of them clears her throat and looks over at Sabina, who exchanges a confused expression with Troy.

"We just—we were wondering if, uh, we could g-get a photo with her," the other woman tells Red Hood, unable to keep eye contact with the red mask. At her side, her friend is shifting uncomfortably in place and appearing to regret the decision to approach them.

The heiress's first instinct is to say yes, but then she remembers…

Sabina glances at the outlaw, who turns towards her and — after an infinitesimal second of tension — gives a small nod of approval. The two strangers are waiting awkwardly, their wide gazes bouncing between them. (And she's ninety percent sure they've gathered an audience for the encounter. Not that they didn't have one before, but Red Hood's chair scrape wasn't particularly quiet.) Putting on her best "Sabina DeKnight, Heiress" face as easily as taking a breath, Sabina stands from her seat and smiles.

"Of course. Whose phone do you want to use?"

"I know you are used to taking pictures with fans whenever you want, but we have to be more careful now. Let him make the decision about allowing people near you. This is no different than him saying you can or cannot go somewhere or do something.

"This is his job, Bina. If something doesn't seem right, what he says goes. It's not the end of the world to deal with it for a little while… This will all be over before you know it."

By 10 p.m., they've taken at least twenty photos of her on the penthouse balcony with the bright lights of nighttime Gotham in the background. Despite the mild chill, Sabina threw on a sheer tank top over a red bra and underwear set just for the occasion — from Chantelle & Co. of course — and touched up the makeup she's been wearing since 6 that morning. They probably went through at least four different outfits, and that was after deciding among several styles to narrow them down.

In nothing else but her knee high socks that were strategically made to look uneven, she pads over to where Troy is squatting. (Just a minute ago, he was poking fun at her for the trauma his joints have endured for her photos… to which Sabina responded promptly that she could do just fine with a tripod.)

"Well, you look… comfy," he says with questionable confidence as they scroll through the endless shots of her in various poses by the banister and pretending to be fascinated by her new home.

"I look bored… which I am."

"Should we do pool shots?"

"Ugh, no. I'm not in the mood."

"Are you ever in the mood for anything, though?"

Sabina rolls her eyes as a "Touché" and reaches over his shoulder to swipe through the pictures. Naturally, she hears Kat's voice and her mother's voice and, loudest of all, her father's too, critiquing her poses and everything about the post. Carmen would love the bare long legs and the cozy ensemble, Kat would remind her to geotag Gotham… As for Ariel DeKnight?

"A subtle nod to the family business is never a bad thing, Bina."

She heaves a sigh. "I know what's missing."

Another twenty or so pictures later, they're both hunched over Troy's phone again, having taken rest on the deck chairs — much to her friend's physical relief, Sabina is sure. This time, a half-empty wine glass of DeKnight Wine Estate is her hand prop, making her look less bored-in-Gotham and more "Look at me in my new Gotham penthouse, relaxing with not-so-subtle, subtle brand placement".

"Flash or no flash?" he asks, swiping back and forth between a handful of ones they picked out.

"Flash."

"It brings out your jewelry more," Troy agrees with a nod. "Caption?"

She takes a moment to ponder and then proceeds to dump the wine into the potted plant nearby. "Mm… How about 'No one told me Gotham would be this dark and depressing'?"

Troy snorts, and Sabina goes on with a dramatic raising of the empty glass to the blackened sky, "Or maybe 'The sun doesn't shine here.'"

"It sounds like you are the one being dark and depressing," her friend chides.

"What if we just put hashtag-Gotham?"

"What about just an emoji?"

"The wine one? Stars? The city with the night sky?" she tosses out suggestions.

The air is quiet for a little while until a certain mischievous look crosses Troy's face. Sitting up in eagerness, Sabina is about to demand him to share when he says, "The bat."

She doesn't say anything at first — because what on earth is he talking about? — and then it hits her. A bat emoji and Gotham. Not for the first time in the last hour or so (or ever), multiple voices echo in her head with words of discouragement. They come swiftly as if they're her thoughts since that is what she's known for too long, seeing her own decisions from the clothes she wears to the things she says from perspectives other than, well, her own.

She hardly ever gets to do things her way.

Troy is still grinning proudly as Sabina leans back in the chair, having made her choice. It's a small one, as miniscule as a single InstantGram caption character, but big enough to have her mentally preparing for the fallout.

"Do it."

Suddenly, a doubtful look crosses her friend's face. He sucks in a breath and asks, "On second thought, I'm not sure Kat would agree it's in good taste, and your papa—"

"Facciamolo," Sabina interrupts, shaking her head.

The impish smile returns to his face though it's not as wide as it was before. "Hashtag-Gotham?"

Sabina turns to look out over the sparkling city lights before them, taking in the unfamiliar skyline and the faint roar of evening traffic below. Maybe it isn't fair to judge it quite yet and believe it won't treat her well, but Sabina has traveled constantly since she was a child and lived in many places across the world — and something about this city so far has only brought her a discomfort that almost contests what she always feels as Ariel DeKnight's only daughter. There are very few things in the world that can do that.

"Something" about this city? Or more like "someone"?

She meets Troy's waiting, brown eyes, and offers a smile. "Hashtag-Gotham."

"Hashtag-Gotham, Sabina? With a bat emoji?"

The urge to roll her eyes or groan (or both) is strong, but Sabina combats it as she goes about her morning routine, punching away at the buttons on her trusty espresso machine. She hasn't bothered reading her father's text messages since waking up to them; video-calling her publicist back will usually tell her everything she needs to know, considering Kat is often used as the messenger when it comes to Ariel DeKnight communicating his unhappiness. Her mother hasn't said a word in their little family group chat, but Sabina's pretty confident that she shares her husband's frustration.

Crossing her arms and leaning against the kitchen counter, Sabina glances at her phone propped up on the bowl of fruit. "What about it?"

Kat shoots her a knowing look from the other end of the video call. "You know what about it. I know we planned on a 'I'm in Gotham' post and we gave you and Troy free reign… but you shouldn't be alluding to Batman."

She already knows the answer, but Sabina asks anyway. "Why not?"

"Because he's… for lack of a better word, controversial."

"And Red Hood isn't?"

At that, her publicist doesn't answer, so the heiress revels in the small victory for the few moments it'll last. "No one said anything about Batman, Katrina. My strict instructions from all of you were to never associate Red Hood with my work, never include him in social media, never acknowledge his presence in interviews or in public. I'm to act as if he is not there while awaiting his approval for this and that and obeying everything he says."

Kat opens her mouth to speak, but Sabina doesn't let her.

"I don't see the harm in making a subtle, if not very vague, reference to Batman. I didn't write out a paragraph saying I support his efforts nor did I rant about him being a vigilante."

The machine has finished whirring. A quick whiff of the aromatic espresso already has her brain producing much-needed serotonin before Sabina turns back to the phone and concludes, "Consider it paying a small homage to the unknown man who protects this city, which is now my home. Is that not a respectable way to introduce it to my followers?"

Sabina raises her brows and adds slyly, "And what better way than with a glass or two of DeKnight Sauvignon Blanc, one of America's most sought after dessert wines produced in Napa Valley, at only $2,000 a bottle?"

Either Kat is digesting her words or she's politely waiting to see if she has more to say. That makes her one of the very few people who is considerate enough to do such a thing.

"Is that what you want me to tell your father when I return his three missed calls after this?" she then asks.

"Better you than me."

"Sometimes I forget you are your father's daughter," the other woman sighs while running her fingers through her short hair. She looks back at the phone with a head shake. "It's so obvious where you get those eloquent and convincing speaking skills."

"Oh, you don't think my mother has anything to do with it?" Sabina quips before daring to stick her tongue into the still-hot espresso.

Kat just laughs, making Sabina smile a little from behind the mug. "Go finish that fancy coffee of yours. Your sarcasm is always at an all-time high in the morning."

"I will relay your lovely speech to your father," Kat explains. "At the very least, maybe he can appreciate the fact that it's your top-performing post since we restarted your account."

"He does love his numbers."

Sabina responds to her raised brows with a not-so-innocent shrug. She knows she isn't going to disagree though. Her father loves numbers even more when there are dollar signs preceding them.

But he would never admit to that.

"I'm telling you, Kat," the heiress changes the subject, moving to open the fridge for breakfast, "if you let me buy you one of these espresso machines for Christmas, you will never fight to find the patience to do what you do."

"Oh, hon. If it gives me as much patience and energy as it gives you, I'll stick with my tea and water," she teases, and the two laugh together once more.

Note: i was hoping to get into a regular upload schedule but a ~lot~ of things happened in the past, like, 6 months alone, so i apologize for the delay lol.

And to the RoP readers, i promise an update is coming but my brain is moving very sluggishly for that story. I have not abandoned it!

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed this update. until next time, xx