It was in autumn that Joice noticed that her friends were avoiding her. Or at least, they had started making plans without here. The inseparable four, which used to consist of David, Lisa, Martin - and Joice, had crossed the odd one out. The quirky quartet had become a tranquil trio. They had grown up quite a bit over the summer and did not bear too much resemblance to the troublemakers the whole neighbourhood had been sighing about for the last couple of years. Joice thought that she had grown up, too. She even had stopped being interested in toys and all the other childish stuff before her friends did, right after she shadow had come into her life. While the thought that the whole situation was unfair crossed her mind, she didn't really feel upset. She didn't really mind being alone.

When the news speaker on the television said that a man called Carmine Falcone had been killed, Sophie, who had been standing next to her tiny kitchen counter, stopped stirring her coffee and just stared at the breaking news.

The universe had decided to serve her some more pieces to a puzzle she would probably never solve for breakfast.

Carmine Falcone had been shot by a hitman yesterday afternoon while his daughter, Sofia Falcone, had been injured. Several hours later, Victor Zsasz had shown up at her doorstep and looked severely upset. And kissed- Sophie dragged that thought aside.

Did Penguin order Victor to murder the Falcone family because he considers them a threat to his reign? Did Victor mess up the hit on Sofia? Is that why he's so upset?

But it seemed unlikely that Victor would manage to take out someone like Carmine Falcone and not succeed at murdering his daughter. Unless…

Sophie barely even dared to think it.

Maybe she had gotten to Victor Zsasz. Maybe he had spared Sofia Falcone because of her little speech. Her little passionate speech. The pathetic one. The one that she had been ashamed of. The one that she had thought ruined everything.

A feeling of warmth started to spread out from her stomach to the rest of her body.

Maybe Victor Zsasz did care.

Sophie spent the next days like a functional human being.

She got up early to watch the morning news, brewed over her cheap filter coffee, took a shower and went to work. Once she got home, she would cook something that might have been food and quickly shovelled it down her throat without really tasting it, so that she could quickly glue her eyes to the news and several newspapers, eager to catch anything related to the former mobster's murder.

Her brain was constantly contemplating Carmine Falcone's death and she got through the day like someone living underwater- only coming up whenever some of her colleagues would discuss the matter she was so immersed into.

At some point, she had absentmindedly found herself in a queue at her regular super market and was only torn out of her dream-like state when the cashier repetitively named she sum she had to pay for her groceries. She didn't even feel embarrassed about testing his and the other customers' patience.

There were more important things on her mind.

There was no sign of Victor. No text, no call, no invasion of her apartment and privacy. While she caught herself staring at her phone desperately more than once, Sophie had chosen to ignore all the texts from her family and even Gina. She wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with any social contacts. And she didn't even feel bad for not picking up the phone. Especially, since she felt disappointment whenever her phone buzzed and the number on her display wasn't Victor's.

Of course, she could have gotten in touch. But she really did not want to contact him. Victor Zsasz had kissed her. He might have spared Sofia Falcone because she asked him to. He might find her attractive. He might care for her.

Yet, he was Victor Zsasz and with him, Sophie thought, you could never be sure. She felt that walking on eggshells was required to not have him push her out of his life for good. If she didn't want to spoil it, she would have to wait for him to show up.

On the other hand, Sophie hated the idea that the man who had shown up on her doorstep and pushed her against her wall only a couple of nights ago was in emotional pain. Moreover, she had a few ideas what her favourite hitman could do for compensation. And quite of few of them could get him into trouble.

Once again, she felt worried and powerless.

But this time, she decided that sitting at home and waiting for him would not suffice. Instead, she would actively do something to find out more about what Victor did or didn't do. The idea of doing some detective work seemed appealing to her. After having read some Arthur Conan Doyle at some point in her life, Sophie had pretty low expectations when it came to her deductive skills. But in a city like Gotham, the chances of overhearing anything about crime were exceptionally high.

And there was a rather obvious place to start in the safety of the public.

Sophie decided to sneak into Carmine Falcone's funeral.

Dressing up for a funeral was, as Sophie ascertained with a sigh of relief, far easier than dressing up for rich people's parties. Her closet produced a simple black dress, black tights, black shoes and a black blazer within seconds. Maybe I should try to buy some clothes that aren't either black or grey in spring, Sophie mused. But she would probably never wear them anyway. At least I'm always funeral-ready, she thought dryly.

Despite the appropriateness of her outfit, she felt a numbing anxiety when she investigated herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were far too pale, and her gaze looked haunted. But while her clothes and faces looked like that of a grieving person, there was no guarantee they would allow her to enter the ceremony.

When a person as prominent as the infamous Carmine Falcone was to be buried, there had to be a list to keep peasants like her out. It was highly unlikely that she could just walk in through the front door uninvited without anyone objecting.

She would probably have to find a side entrance or pull off an act and insist that she had been a close friend of Falcone.

The sheer thought of it made her nauseous.

When she set foot on the cold streets of Gotham on that particularly grim morning, Sophie realised that she wasn't even sure what she hoped to find out. It was not like she would get a chance to talk to the probably traumatised Sofia and have the chance to ask her insensitive questions about her father's murderer. If she was really lucky, she might be able to stand within hearing distance of her and get to eavesdrop.

Or maybe someone else would mention the name of the bald assassin once the service was over. This was probably more likely to happen and might either provide her some insight into Victor Zsasz's latest crime or maybe some information about his current whereabouts.

But, however it would work out, it was at least something to do.

Once the cab spit her out in front of the cathedral, Sophie was overwhelmed by the breath-taking architecture of the building, and, for one second, her nervousness dissolved. It looked absolutely divine.

When she took in the people who were making their way towards the building, her anxiety came back at full force.

The heels of her shoes weren't even that high, but they still did not help with the fact that her legs felt like jelly and her gate exhibited an elegance comparable to that of a drunken stork. Walking had become strikingly difficult.

What if my dress is too short? Or too long? Do I look too casual? I should have used blush. The women are all wearing make-up and jewellery while I look like as plain as a pillow case. I'm never wearing heels ever again in my life. What am I gonna say if anyone asks me what I'm doing her? This is torture.

By the time Sophie had made her way to the front door on her wobbly legs, she looked like a mess. Her attempts to breathe calmly in order to keep her panic at ease must have sounded like she was on the verge of tears. No one said anything to her when she entered the cathedral without meeting anyone's eyes.

They had just let her walk through the front door uninvited without asking any questions.

Her stress levels decreased significantly and, if she hadn't walked into a funeral service, Sophie would have smiled.