Bruce sat down in the theatre next to a blonde woman. When she had looked his way, he noticed, coincidently, that it was Quinn.
He mumbled something.
"Pardon me, Mr. Wayne. What'dja say?" she asked as she popped her gum.
"Oh, uh, I just said that the worst way to miss someone's when they're sitting right next to you."
"But Mr. Wayne, how couldja miss me when ya don't even know me or know who I am?" Harley asked.
"I look at the papers, Harley. And I know you more than you think I do," Bruce smiled at her, longingly.
"So you're a millionaire or a billionaire or what?" Quinn smiled.
"Doesn't matter."
"You know, you're pretty handsome for a rich guy."
"Uh, thanks, I think," he stared at her once more before the film began.
Coincidently, he had walked into the wrong movie showing but decided to stay because of Harley. Chick flick. A sad one. During the midway of the movie, Harley began to cry. Bruce comforted her, held her hand, held her close. However, he still wasn't sure how she felt of him. Tears fell from the girl's crying eyes and fell upon her soft, warm cheeks as Bruce dried them with his sleeve.
"This is so sad!" she sobbed. "The poor doggie! They killed him!"
"He felt no pain, Harley."
"Will you please shut her up!" someone yelled back to Bruce.
"Sorry," Bruce yelled up front. "Now, sweetie, quiet down. What do you say after the movie we go out for dinner?"
Only once her tears were dried, did she answer his question. "Only caz you offered," she smiled.