Looking out upon Gotham bathed in a chilly twilight, Bruce waited for Selina to show. While he anticipated her arrival, the familiar, affecting flashback, with its bits and pieces of haunting conversation, kept him company as it so often did…
"You're leaving."
"Are you asking me to stay?"
At this point, regretting because he'd failed to man up, emotionally speaking, he would pause the flow and sometimes mentally, or most times verbally interject, 'Don't go. Stay with me. I know. You hate this place. There's lots to hate. Overwhelming. Is it so unreasonable to want to make it better? You and I? Help me, Selina. Please.'
"What I should've told her is how alive and…whole. Yes, whole, she makes me feel. Challenges me. Tantalizes me. Tempts me terribly, like I've never been tempted before. Dilutes my loneliness," he muttered aloud. Bruce kept right on with the partially-remembered flow of words said in parting.
"Where will you go?
"Somewhere upstate. Bludhaven maybe. Come with me, Vengeance. Let's get into some trouble. Lean on some CEO hedge fund types. It'll be fun."
Bruce humphed, hearing himself clearly say as though waving a banner…
"The city needs me."
And I need her, he thought, and pondered in hushed tones, "Does she know that? Does she care?"
"This place will never change."
"I have to try."
"You're gonna get yourself killed eventually. You know that, right?"
Bruce grunted hearing himself regurgitate the obvious. "I know."
Of course, he knew she wasn't wrong. Her prophecy would come true one fateful day. He'd fall. Gotham's diseased heartlessness would destroy him too as it had countless others. Torn between two loves, Bruce hung his head down; his sight blurred. Selina's lament rang in his ears.
"Who am I kidding? You're already spoken for…"
Then they rode together until their parting of the ways rushed in. No goodbye kiss, no goodbye squeeze. Just she enveloped by mist after he'd decided to look in his bike's side view mirror. He would not let her slip away again.
He molded his hand to his cowl, giving his disguise a firm grip. When he said her name, there was an ache to it. "Selina…"
"Yeah?"
His heartbeat went rapid, hearing her suddenly speak as she sashayed her way to him. No longer blurry, his vision was sharp as he trained his eyes on her. Looking as femininely feline as always in her attention-grabbing suit, Selina walked up to him, eyeing him closely. She half-smiled, liking the hair-trigger attention he paid her.
"Sorry I'm late. I was finding new homes for a couple of strays I found prowling in the alley by my old building. Were you waiting long?"
Without the ski mask, her short hair glistened in the fading light as the city lights brightened. He found himself noticing her new shade of…lipstick? Or was the fuchsia shade lip gloss? Selina had the loveliest lips, enticing, buttery soft, and they always tasted delicious. They begged that he smother them with affection. She was standing with a hand on her right hip, giving him attitude, but in the most kittenish way possible.
"You're right on time," Bruce vouched. "No. I wasn't waiting long." Having her come here was a mistake. She was doing her best to hide it, but Selina was shivering. There was good reason for that. It had to be somewhere in the low 40s, upper 30s degrees-wise. Any trace of balmy weather had gone. The fact that she bothered to show up at all, not blow him off, incentivized Bruce. "This is no place for us." The wind must've been blowing at 45 m.p.h., at least.
"You're telling me." Selina clapped his broad, armored chest twice, directly on his embedded batarang. "If at least two walls were up, it wouldn't be so bad. It's like some souped up wind tunnel here."
"I don't know what I was thinking," he said softly, close to her quizzical-looking face. "I should've met you at your old place and from there head for mine."
"I thought after I gave you what you came here for, we'd hit the streets for a little crime stopping before dinner." Selina had noticed Bruce's body language changed with her hand still squarely on his chest. She decided she'd give him a break, and took her hand away. It was obvious he was relieved. Does little ol' me make tall, dark and uncomfortable in his own skin even more uncomfortable? I could help him with that. He only needs to ask.
"Not tonight," Bruce answered tersely. Tonight, it's about you, and...
Selina disconnected his train of thought. "Oh, okay. So…your place now?"
He nodded. "My place now."
Back at street level, Selina donned her mask. She hopped on her motorcycle; Bruce mounted his. They zoomed their way through light traffic this Monday evening to the over a thousand-feet tall Wayne Tower on Kane Street. The fortified door, leading into the cavernous entry tunnel went up, and in they flew. Within the virtually impenetrable foundation of the building, Bruce's subterranean nerve center, an old private underground railway, property of the Wayne estate, sprawled before her popped eyes. It was still under construction.
Selina took everything in, as she freely perused. Impressed didn't begin to detail her reaction. Not only was the masked crime fighter a billionaire playboy. He was a gearhead, a total techie, an intellect who thrilled getting his hands dirty. Doing it in grand style.
She whistled at his tour de force of a car, her eyes popping harder, seeing it this close, as though she was paying homage. "You built this?"
Nodding, Bruce said with more than a hint of pride, "I did."
"Take me for a ride sometime, Playboy?"
"Anytime you say." He hesitated, determining that the give and take, push and pull they had between them now would allow this. Gently, he asked, "Could you not call me that?"
Selina looked at him pointedly, a wry smile on her lips. The underpinning of his request lodged in her heart. "What should I call you?"
"It's just that I'm not that person anymore." As sincere as he could sound, he replied, "Bruce, if you don't mind." Then, sounding a pinch amused, he followed up, "Or, Bats. You like calling me that, and I don't mind."
"How about just 'boy?'"
"You know your name's in the dictionary. Next to hilarious."
"Excuse you. And yours is next to… Uh, uh, well I can't think of what it's next to right now. I'll let ya know later. Genius."
"I'll accept that's what my name's next to."
"Cute." As she was thoroughly checking out the many monitors adorning the right wall, Selina acquiesced. "You got it, Bruce. Uh, Bru—you don't mind Bru do you?" That was fine too he admitted. "Did you put all of this together too?" She came to stand next to him, still deeply caught up in the lay of his underground wonderland.
"Not all of it. Alfred, he used to be with the military, his input has been tremendous."
"Alfred," Selina pronounced solemnly. No, he couldn't be a dog.
In time with the closing of the entryway door, the man who was the current topic of conversation appeared. The man looked remarkable, considering he'd been almost blown apart by that ridiculous letter bomb. He'd always been a wicked fast healer.
"Yes, Miss. I'm Alfred. Alfred Pennyworth." He readily offered her his hand. As she shook it, he went on, "I'm delighted to meet your acquaintance, Miss—oh, pardon. Ms. Kyle. Do make yourself right at home. Dinner is ready to be served as you wish. But first, may I suggest you might like to freshen up." Alfred looked questioningly at Bruce; the look plainly conveyed…shower, sir, for your lady friend's sake.
Bruce said in a measured tone, "I'll take care of it. I'll show Selina to the room prepared. And I'll take the hint."
"Very good, sir. I'll gladly accompany Ms. Kyle to the dining room after she's had the chance to prink."
Prink? What is that supposed to mean? Selina didn't ask, relying on finding out as she went along. Going along seemed to be the way to go in this setting.
Alfred waited behind, watching them leave the Batman's domain. The tireless butler and best friend was no longer in the dark. The reason Bruce had pored over the young woman's video image at every opportunity was broadly apparent. The 'not so sure she was a friend' was stunning. Stunning, and, as Alfred innately perceived, taken with his ward.
Outside the room that was on the same level as Bruce's, but was at the far end of the red velvet-carpeted hallway, he told Selina, "All yours." He opened the heavy oak door for her. She looked inside, then glanced back at him.
"My entire old apartment can fit in there."
"Help yourself. Private bath with tub and shower. Vanity. Queen size bed if you'd like to spend the night. You're more than welcome."
Taking his advice, she went inside the Goth style guest suite, and gawked at the lovely dining attire laid out for her. Black satin cocktail dress with spaghetti straps. Black pumps just her size, she marveled, stepping into one after removing a boot. "What's all this?"
"Clothes, and all necessary accoutrements."
"I can see that." Another la-di-da word. "But why?"
Patiently, Bruce explained, "Because. You're my guest. You, enjoying yourself, is my wish. I'll see you at dinner. Oh, I hope you like spinach stuffed mushrooms, onion soup a la Merchot, Port braised short ribs and for dessert…this is really yummy…sinfully chocolate espresso torte." He quietly shut the door, giving her an impish grin, when he left, leaving Selina to lock the way he looked, looking at her, deep within her heart.
Never imagined him using the word 'yummy.' As she whispered, she chuckled. "From the moment we locked eyes in Oz's office, I had a feeling we'd never be the same." She hurried to the bed, stripped off the cat suit, snatched up the ridiculously expensive dress, slipped into it and liked what she saw in the full length mirror off to the right of an ersatz marble column. "I know I'm right about me." Her additional chuckling filled her with whimsy. "I also have the feeling that before this night is through…" The dress fit her perfectly, curves accentuated in the best way possible. "And I'm right about him." He's nuts about me. "Keep bein' cool with it, girl. Don't scare him away. He's just too fine."
