The water laps over the edge of the pool, draining down and back in in a rhythmic, soothing cycle. Ivy fights to keep her eyes open—the sun's set, and the warm night air, combined with the pool ambience, is well on its way to lulling her to sleep.
Scowling, she blinks a few times, straightening in her chair, and checks her watch; the glowing hands telling her there's still half an hour left to her shift. She lets out a quiet groan. No one's come in in an hour, and she's ready to just be done with the day.
Just as she's weighing her options, the doors slide open, admitting a tall, warm-skinned woman in a black one-piece bathing suit, a backpack slung over one shoulder, somehow managing to look put-together as she toes off her flip flops and sets her backpack on the bench, before pulling a swim cap out of it and wrestling with her long, frizzying hair in an admirable battle, finally managing to get it all beneath the cap.
She's at the other end of the pool, so Ivy can't see her to well, but something about her movements seems familiar. Like she's seen her before, or something.
Ivy purses her lips, trying to remember if she's ever run into the woman; but her mind draws a blank. Perhaps a one-off, public interaction, then—maybe they ran into each other at the grocery store, and had a short conversation. Though, the fact that she doesn't remember the woman is surprising—she usually doesn't forget women as attractive as her.
Whatever the case, it doesn't really matter—she's supposed to be paying attention and making sure the woman isn't violating pool rules, not mooning over her. She shakes herself mentally, refocusing on the task at hand.
By now, the woman in question has climbed into the pool, and Ivy eyes her, watching out for if she starts pulling on the lane lines. But no—she seems to be perfectly following the rules posted on every wall of the pool.
That realisation makes Ivy relax somewhat, and she shifts in the chair, settling herself into a somewhat more comfortable position, and begins to hum Dance of the Sugarplum Faries —a staple for when she doesn't have much to do.
The remaining half hour passes quickly, and before she knows it, she's getting down off the chair and making her way to the single occupied lane to tell the woman that the pool is closing, and she needs to get out. She waits for her to make the trip back from the other end, and when the other comes to a halt, head popping out above the water, she clears her throat. "We're closing in five minutes," she says, "I'm going to have to ask that you get out of the pool."
The woman blinks; surprise writ clear across her face. "I didn't realise it'd gotten so late," she says. "I swear I only just got here."
That prompts a small chuckle from Ivy. "I know the feeling," she says. "Sometimes I'll come in for laps and two hours'll pass in a heartbeat."
The other nods, leaning against the wall for a moment, before pushing herself out of the pool with enviable grace, making her way over to her backpack and pulling her cap off, and taking out a towel, draping it over her shoulders. Ivy waits patiently for her to make her way towards the door before flicking off the lights and following after.
Her stuff is in the locker rooms, so she makes her down the ramp and to the doors, the other following behind her. She's just grabbed the door when there's a quiet clearing of throat from behind her. "Sorry if this is weird," the other says, with an apologetic lilt to her voice, "but I feel like I know you from somewhere. Have we met before?"
Ivy shakes her head, pulling the door open; the air-conditioned air washing over her, waking her back up somewhat. "I don't think so," she says.
The other frowns. "Are you sure?—if it jogs your memory, my name's Selina. Selina Kyle."
Ivy comes to a screeching halt; eyes widening. "Actually," she says, "I do know you."
"Really?"
She nods. "It's been a while since we've seen each other—years, actually. We knew each other as kids." She reaches out, barely paying attention, and turns the dial of the lock on her locker. "We were in middle school together. I'm Ivy—Ivy Pepper."
There's a quiet inhale from her side. "Ivy?" Selina asks, as if she can barely believe it. "What are you doing back in Gotham? Last I knew, you moved away to Trenton after your dad died at the end of eighth grade."
"I did," Ivy confirms. "But, well, after high school, I wound up coming back to go to Gotham U—I'm working on my Master's in botany."
"Damn," Selina lets out a soft laugh, "I always knew you were brilliant. I can't believe we haven't run into each other before now."
Ivy shrugs. "I spend most of my time either in the greenhouses, at work, or at home—I don't really get out much," she admits.
Selina grins. "Still not a party person, huh?"
Ivy huffs. "No, not really. I'm what you might call a killjoy in that department," she adds, wryly. "Well, according to my old housemate, anyway."
"Ignore them," Selina says, "their opinions don't mean shit."
Ivy finds herself on the verge of an instinctive smile. "He'd be so mad if he heard you say that," she confides, cheeks hurting from the effort of holding back the smile, "full on murder glare and yelling and all."
"Well, then, I guess it's a good thing he's not here," Selina shoots back, flippantly.
Ivy gives up the losing battle and lets the smile spread across her face, flipping the lock on her locker shut. "We should go," she says, "I wasn't kidding when I said we're closing up—if any of the janitorial staff catches us after hours, there'll be hell to pay. Come on—we can walk together the rest of the way."
They make their way out of the locker rooms just in time—according to Ivy's watch, there's barely a minute left to closing time when they get outside. Outside the climate-controlled locker rooms, the air is warm and heavy and humid—in short, Gotham in peak summer, when not even the disappearance of the sun can cool things down much.
"Well, this is me," Ivy says, as they come to her small, beat up white sedan. "It was nice to catch up with you, though."
Selina nods. "Yeah," she says. "Well, I guess I'll see you if you're on shift tomorrow evening."
"I am," Ivy confirms, opening the driver's side door.
For a moment, they linger in awkward silence; neither of them seemingly willing to break it; before finally, Selina turns, hair bouncing, and walks further down the sidewalk, disappearing around the corner. Ivy finds herself vaguely disappointed.
She shakes herself, climbing into the car, turning the engine on and pulling out of the parking lot.