It's probably worth mentioning that I am NOT American and so when I say biscuits I mean "cookies" or whatever in America. Also Uni/College etc.

I didn't wake until half past ten and groaned as I felt my body clock protesting, making me feel groggy and sluggish.

I trudged into the kitchen with my blanket still around me, fixed a coffee and breakfast and turned on the TV to try and get my brain waking.

The light crept into the room through the small window of my apartment and as I pulled the thick curtains back, I was momentarily blinded by the daylight pouring in. I blinked hard against the onslaught and trudged to the sofa, sitting down to watch mindless television, stretching my legs and running hands through my hair every now and then as I tried to get it back to normal after the styling from the evening before.

Twenty minutes later my phone rang. Lucius Fox.

I answered right away. 'No, I'm not coming in; I haven't slept properly in three nights.'

'A good morning to you, too. That's alright, I'll see you tomorrow. What's all this laid out on the workbench by the way?'

I blinked, hard. 'Which workbench?' I asked flatly, rubbing my eyes.

'Strands of chemicals, some strange poison and what I'm assuming is blood.'

'Oh, that's Bruce Wayne's,' I yawned.

'Ah,' said Lucius, sounding very unsurprised.

'That would be the reason why I got literally no sleep the night before last.'

He didn't question it further; it sounded like he, too, was too tired to really be troubled with and by the blood of Bruce Wayne splayed over a workbench. 'Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Evelyn.'

'See you then.' I shut off the call and laid down on the couch.

Five minutes later my phone rang again. Swearing, I grabbed it and jammed it against my ear. 'What?'

'Dr Pendragon.'

'Oh! Alfred. Good morning.'

'Good morning, Doctor. I know you prescribed bedrest to Master Wayne but he's bouncing off the walls.'

There was a pause.

'Oh, literally,' I said wearily, realising what Alfred meant.

'Quite so. It seems the presence of Crane is making the entire city on edge. I've been told to ring you asking for any further intel you may have, while he fixes some more lights into the cave wall.'

How on Earth did Alfred raise that man alone. 'All my intel is sitting in that cave.'

'I thought it might be. Very well, thank you Dr Pendragon.'

I squinted a little at my TV. 'Alfred, hang on a tick. Do you think there is anything we can do until it gets dark?'

'In my opinion, despite Master Bruce's, no.'

'And I presume you can't tie him down and force him not to exert his body for at least another twelve hours?'

'If I had the speed and strength I would have by now, ma'am.'

Ugh. He was going to get himself killed, climbing over the cave like that, a day out of near-death experiences. My sofa was so comfy.

'Bribe me and I'll come knock him out or something,' I grumbled.

'I'll put the kettle on, shall I ma'am?'

I sighed, feeling forlorn. 'Yes, please.'

'Bruce Wayne, get down from there right now.'

He looked down from high on the cave wall in surprise, to see me staring at him, flatly apathetic, arm hanging by my side, not folded, not pointing, hanging, with a mug of tea held in the other.

It was certainly a change from "might I suggest, Master Wayne, that you maintain your bedrest, sir?" Apparently, he'd pushed his luck too far, as I was now blinking at him with a blunt expression.

He stayed there, weighing up his options, noting that Alfred was in the background and he was now therefore outnumbered.

Too long. I looked off to another cave wall and drew in a sigh, letting it out as I began to walk. Bruce watched my path for a second before realising I was going to drop the tension of his climbing rope and hurried to the ground.

'You're up earlier than I thought you would be,' he said, untangling his harness.

'Someone was inconveniencing Alfred.'

'Ah.' He had the decency to look sheepish.

I had a gulp of my tea and kicked the now piled rope out of the way.

He huffed, taking deep breaths and wiping his face, glancing at me.

I narrowed my eyes and begrudgingly passed him my tea. He took a sip from the opposite rim and stretched his shoulder out, passing my tea back. I received it rather protectively and held it closer than I had been before.

'Good to see you off the wall, Master Wayne,' Alfred called and walked over with a glass of water.

Bruce said nothing and gulped the glass down.

'Well done,' Alfred said to me.

I smiled at him supportively.

'It's good to know that you two have joined forces,' Bruce said, handing Alfred the glass.

'Desperate times, sir,' Alfred replied.

I chuckled a little and spotted Bruce's cape hanging nearby, walking away to examine it. Bruce and Alfred watched me.

I ran the fabric through my fingers, frowning as I studied it for any signs of fire damage. I squinted at a small scuff mark before determining it had successfully held its own. I flapped it out a little and left it to it, folding my arms, tapping my foot on the ground and yawning big and wide, eyes closing.

I finished yawning and opened my eyes to see both of them looking at me. Somehow, I got the impression I'd missed something. 'Hm?'

Alfred's eyes twinkled and Bruce's eyes raised.

I blinked at them and scowled light-heartedly. 'I'm tired, alright?'

'As am I, ma'am,' said Alfred and with a long-suffering smile of unspoken similarity left to return the glass to the tap near the lift.

Bruce came and sat down at one of the worktables. 'Did you sleep alright at least?'

'Yes, actually,' I replied.

He nodded.

I yawned again, glanced at Alfred, looked at Bruce and let my face fall in defeat. If I left, I'd only be called back to aid Alfred again.

'What are you going to do today?' I asked finally.

Bruce thought for a second. 'Track Crane, try to find him to stop him.'

'You're heading for an early grave, is what you're doing.'

He blinked at me in surprise.

'I'm not sure you know just how much strain went into your body to heal so quickly. One hit and you're down, it'll be like this for at least another few hours. Crane will be laying low, he won't make a move yet, not when we nearly got him.'

He stared at me, trying to marshal arguments.

'You're outnumbered, don't forget,' I said pointedly.

Alfred helpfully chose that moment to return. 'Might I suggest you take Dr Pendragon's advice, Master Wayne?'

Bruce sighed and gave up, knowing better than to engage in a battle of wills with the two most stubborn people he'd ever met. 'Fine.' He looked at me. 'What are you doing today?'

'Sleeping,' I replied, 'on my couch. Then cooking dinner.' My eyes narrowed disapprovingly. 'Unless I'm stuck here supervising you, that is.'

Bruce laughed. Alfred tutted. 'I'm sure I can handle him now, thank you, Doctor.'

I nodded in small motions at the butler. 'Mmmm.'

I searched Bruce, who was now appearing lost, like he had nothing to do. I looked at Alfred, who, despite his as-always demeanour, showed signs of fatigue. The last two nights had been late ones, and he hadn't had a moment to himself to relax. Though he wouldn't take a break from the Wayne in the manor if anyone told him to, so I'd have to take the Wayne from the manor.

'Come on, I need you to take my Mercedes for me.' I gestured at Bruce to follow me and aimed for the lift, trying not to get side-tracked by the gear.

'I'll fetch the keys, sir,' Alfred said and walked ahead of me to wait by the button to take the lift up into the house.

Bruce heaved himself off the chair and joined us.

The music room jostled into sight and we stepped off. I in the direction of the front doors, Bruce to get changed and Alfred to wherever it is he'd stashed my car keys when the two swapped my car the day before.

I was sitting in my Aston listening to music and was three songs down when my Mercedes rolled into sight from the garage.

I turned the engine on and drove out.

Bruce followed in my Mercedes through Gotham to an older apartment building. We drove underneath and parked the cars in the bays for my apartment and I parcelled him into the lift, taking my Mercedes keys from him forcibly.

We travelled upwards, then down a dimly lit, every other light working, carpeted hallway to a plain white door. There wasn't a lot of colour in the building.

I shoved my keys into the lock and pushed the door back, stepping around it and into the living room.

I laughed, not needing to see Bruce's face to know roughly what it would look like. My house did not match me at all.

It was old style, with very outdated décor that was steadily falling apart, unstable furniture and thick plain curtains, complete with temperamental heating and air con, water damage, faulty windows, half the carpet missing, lukewarm water, broken taps and a dangerous looking kitchen. It was a place for storage of personal belongings with a kitchen and a bed. It gave the impression that if I didn't need to sleep or didn't own anything, I wouldn't have bought a place to live at all.

I sat on the couch and turned on the TV. Currently the place was ice cold; I'd been wrapped in blankets this morning because I dragged with them with me in a stubborn attempt to remain in bed, so I hadn't noticed until it was time to leave.

Bruce was still looking around.

'It's no Wayne Manor,' I grinned.

'Hm! Could almost be cosy, if it wasn't for the décor.' He could tell easily I'd spent most of the time living here elsewhere, probably in the basement of Wayne Enterprises.

'Lots of food in the fridge, though.'

Bruce immediately veered toward the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes fondly and began to flick through various programs.

'You weren't kidding.'

I got up and went to find my blanket and shut the windows, heaving them shut against the freezing air from the high level.

Bruce had a mountain of food a minute later, sitting on the couch when I emerged from my bedroom. I blinked.

'You know, most of that is very expensive,' I said testily.

'You owned a Mercedes,' he quipped back, digging into the fruit first.

I sighed. 'Food and car. The only things I spend money on.'

'Didn't you wear expensive dresses the last two times I've seen you in one?'

'I didn't buy them, though. People gave them to me.'

'Bad Christmas presents?'

I collapsed onto my own couch, shoving his elbow out of the way. 'Something like that.' I put my head on the arm rest. 'If you're going to rob this place, I'll save you time and say you're currently eating anything of value.'

He laughed through a mouthful of high-quality nougat.

I discovered Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was on air to celebrate the upcoming release of The Prisoner of Azkaban and waved angrily at the thief to pass me some of my own food.

He stayed quiet for an impressive length of time until I was fully enthralled in a side plot.

'Why is-,'

'Shhh-!'

He laughed and said nothing further until the scene had ended.

I readjusted my blankets.

'Why is your house so cold?'

'Oh,' I said, realising what he'd been trying to ask. 'Sorry.' I separated one blanket from the other and threw it at his head.

I had a minute of silence while he organised the pile of warmth.

'Do you not have heating?'

'No, I do, but I never bother to turn it on.'

'Why not? Don't you freeze?' He put the blanket further over his shoulders.

'I'm never home. I don't like my apartment.'

'But you have this one because you're always at work.'

'It's a vicious cycle I don't have time to break out of,' I said matter-of-factly.

Bruce smiled and quietened to listen to some heavy dialogue.

'They can't take Hagrid!' I insisted crossly, sitting up in disgust and grabbing a biscuit. I shoved it into my mouth and grabbed two more before returning.

'You haven't seen this before?' Bruce asked.

'I have,' I replied, 'I can still react, though.' Then a thought struck me. 'Did you ever see the first one?'

'No,' Bruce said simply. 'I have no idea what's going on.'

I laughed at his tone of voice and lay face down for a moment, body shaking as I kept laughing.

'Sake,' I groaned, and rolled off the couch to search for a copy of the first movie.

'Don't worry,' he said after I'd thrown the contents of half the cupboard under the TV around.

I sat back on my heels, turning to face him. 'Well now what?'

He shrugged and proceeded to lie down on the couch, smirking at me evilly as he took up all the room.

No tension, no awkwardness, no pause. No misunderstanding or misreading of the situation passed. Just a comfortable anger. I narrowed my eyes at him, irritated.

His smirk grew more amused.

Narrow. Throw him off or find something else to do.

Smirk.

Narrow. Kick him off… Or…

He burst into chuckles and I scoffed.

'Ugh.' I stood up, blanket now a cape around me and scooped scraps from the table. 'Fine. Nap. It'll do you good.'

Triumphantly, Bruce rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, settling into the couch.

I set about tidying the mess he'd made of my fridge.

I'd met Bruce through the creation of Batman and Thunder, in a nerdy bunker basement. It was before our bond had been secured that I'd noticed the love between Rachel Dawes and Bruce Wayne, and so it was a constant now. My entire being refused and despised the idea of being in an unrequited love triangle and so the second I'd noticed, Bruce's romantic life had been affirmed to be in the right place; to be teased and supported, but who'd want to touch that mess of a fire?

In another lifetime I would have admired how relaxed he looked. Not this one, though. This lifetime held a bond of relaxed trust and complete comfort.

'You don't want to move?' he asked.

I paused, looking up thoughtfully for a moment from my cramped corner by the tiny fridge. 'It'd certainly be nicer living somewhere a little more… hm.'

'Comfortable.'

'Mm.' I nodded and stuck my head back into the fridge. 'But I'd either spend all my time at home, in which case I'd buy a much nicer house, the likes of which I can't afford just quite yet or keep living here and never be home.'

'Now I may not spend a lot of time in Wayne Manor,' Bruce began.

'I may have noticed.'

'But I do know I love it when I'm home.'

'It's your childhood home, though,' I said, slightly preoccupied with the top shelf.

'Most people enjoy being in their home.'

'I'm sure I would, too, if I didn't overwork myself,' I called from the back of the fridge.

'At least you acknowledge it,' Bruce said fairly.

'Doesn't do me any good, though, does it?' I sighed, beginning to put things back in the right place.

There was a small pause in which the apartment was filled with the loud crashes of me shoving things around in my fridge.

'How overworked are you going to be two months down the line, with Thunder?' Bruce asked thoughtfully, concerned.

'Depends if we can stop Ra's or not,' I replied, checking the date on a jar of jam.

Bruce's shoulders felt a little heavier. 'Assuming we do?'

'Then I won't be in Applied Sciences all the time,' I said, 'it's not like I can spend any less time in here.'

Bruce frowned. 'You're going to end up exhausted.'

'You more than me,' I said, taking a moment to blink at him, indignant. I put the jam in the door.

Bruce let out a long, slow breath. 'We'll both have to be careful, then.'

It occurred to me, and also to Bruce, that having two people take on the challenge of becoming vigilantes made the task a lot less daunting and slightly less full of harmful risks. Out of concern for the other we'd bring up things we should really be properly assessing in ourselves.

It was also so much easier to not be the only one in a cowl, in the way Batman and Thunder stood. In no way did it feel like we had a safety net, or bubble wrap around us, far from it. But we were constantly aware of the presence of the other, whether in a conversation with someone to combat. That was the power of Batman and Thunder, though, you couldn't not fixate on their presence once you knew they were there.

'You more than me,' I said, tone lightening as I set up a tease, 'you fight like a daffodil.'

'Hey!'

I snorted. 'You handle the theatrics, I'll save your ass.'

Bruce dissolved into laughter. 'An unstoppable team. Daffodil and Ass-saver.'

I got infected by his laughter as I shut the fridge. 'Feared throughout the ages. Poor Alfred.'

When our laughter had died down, I bit on my lip, looking around my kitchen. Bruce closed his eyes and intended to drift into a nap when I began making crashing noises and clanging as I opened and shut the heavy wooden cupboards.

He opened an eye. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm still hungry.' I stopped and put my hands on the bench, thinking. 'I'll make dumplings,' I decided.

Bruce tilted his head, redirecting his attention toward me.

I spent a few minutes pulling everything I needed out from the various hidey holes that made the tiny kitchen and then reached the point to knead the dough.

'Do you think we'll get Crane?' Bruce asked quietly, staring at the ceiling.

'Can't afford not to,' I said comfortingly, punching the dough for a moment, 'so yes, I think we will.'

He didn't say anything, eyes not moving from the stained off-white above him.

'We'll stop him,' I asserted, glancing up at him. 'That's what you became Batman to do.'

After drawing in a long breath, he looked down the couch to watch me. 'I became Batman to save Gotham, to bring it back from the brink it's swinging on.'

Punch.

His eyes looked back at the ceiling again. 'I watched my parents get shot in the backstreets of an opera theatre and couldn't kill the man who did it.'

I stopped kneading to give him my full attention, softening instantly and making my presence warming. I'd heard the story of Bruce Wayne, everyone in Gotham knew the story of the Crown Prince who'd lost his parents, the kind and generous Waynes, to some thug in the cold, dirty streets. He was gone by the time I started working at Wayne Enterprises, vanished the day his parents' killer resurfaced in the media.

The whole of Gotham knew the story of Bruce Wayne, the billionaire orphan who'd had his loving parents shot from his hands.

It had never once occurred to me I'd hear it from Bruce Wayne himself, not even now.

It was a widespread story that saddened the city, a common narrative without a happy ending.

When Bruce told it, it became so much more. Of course it did. And it had nothing to do with Batman.

He blinked at the ceiling above. 'And now I'm in a Kevlar suit fighting criminals like him.'

My eyes danced slowly over the room as my head dipped in thought. After a long time, I raised it back to look at Bruce, who met my eyes, and looked away for a moment, still in thought. I leant back and took in a breath as I opened my mouth.

'I know it's not how your life should have gone, Bruce.'

'But it did,' he said quietly.

'But it did,' I agreed. 'It falls to those who go through hell to protect the others who would have, so at the very least your life will be something to be proud of.'

He frowned. 'Proud?'

I smiled gently. 'You could say "defendant," or "accepting…" or "no regrets." But why shouldn't you be proud?'

I'd said something that hadn't occurred to him. It was silent for a long time as he mulled it over.

I returned to the dough, moving it in motions around the bowl as I fought with the mixture.

'Evelyn.'

I knew that tone. It was the beginning of a question, a sad one. A personal one and a meaningful one.

'Why did you become Thunder so easily?'

I stopped mixing the dough and turned away to get a glass of water. I took a sip and turned back. I put it down on the counter beside the bowl and stood straighter, disengaging once again from the cooking.

'My mother died in second childbirth, so my father moved to Gotham in my childhood. My brother, Ryan, was three months old. I'm older than him by four years.' I sighed and leant back on the sink behind me, hands resting either side of me. 'I'm me, but he's really not.'

Bruce smiled a little, knowing what I meant.

I nodded. 'He's really timid. He used to run away from anyone that looked anything less than one hundred percent friendly and would run to wherever I was the years we were both at school and hide behind me. He hated it when I left one year early to enter university.'

My eyes thinned slightly. 'In high school he somehow managed to meet the love of his life. She was awesome. They were both 16. Sometimes, very rarely, but sometimes, you can look at two people in love and know they will love each other forever. This kid, she was stunning. Her sense of humour was brilliant,' I said, pulling a face that told Bruce she shared my twisted sense of humour, making him smile, 'and she was musical, and scientific, and tough as anything.'

Bruce's face was becoming more mellow as I went on.

I drifted into my own world for a minute, remaining sombrely conversational, voice telling a story. 'She latched onto me because she'd never had a sibling or a mother, like him, and to her I was the best big sister ever. The two of them were like my baby kid siblings. They finished high school, got engaged and went to university together.'

Bruce could feel the tension building in his muscles as he waited, not wanting to hear the rest.

I reached and took a sip of water. 'Their first year went fine, until the end of the exams. Jordan was waiting for Ryan and me to meet her at a place near the exams to celebrate finishing the year. We arrive in time to see her get hit by two men and a woman. My brother panicked and I walked up to them and knocked them out cold. (I'd already been trained by then.) Jordan had no idea why they picked on her. We went to the police station, then to another place, as far away from the dangerous districts as possible and celebrated their second year. She spent the night with my father and brother at home and started to recover fine in the morning.'

'You were already trained?' Bruce asked very quietly.

'Mm,' I nodded, 'I'd always had an interest in martial arts. Nothing happened for a week, so we forgot about it, just one of the risks of living in Gotham. I didn't hear from her all day one day, assumed she was sick and visited her apartment.'

Bruce winced slightly, preparing.

'She'd been thrown out of her apartment window, by the same people as before.'

His eyes widened in horror.

'They'd mistaken her for someone they'd done business with that had double crossed them. This was the city we'd grown up in, that scared my brother since he was three.'

I was like Bruce when it came to things like this. Not much had changed in my voice or body language, I was just quieter.

His face twisted and he nodded his empathy. 'Was it then you were approached by the League of Shadows?'

'No,' I said, pushing off the sink back to the dough, 'that was a year later. They had seen me while scouting Gotham and wanted me to join their cause. I wanted to study them. So, I did the basic training and then left. They weren't what I respected.'

Bruce's lips twitched. 'I burnt it down.'

I looked at him for a solid moment and burst out laughing, holding out the bowl. 'Of course you did. Come knead this for me.'

He picked himself off the couch and wrapped himself in blankets walking over. I left him to it and set about chopping ingredients for the filling.

'Alfred never makes dumplings.'

'I find that hard to believe,' I replied, then tilted my head as a thought crossed me. 'What made you not want to kill?'

'Rachel,' Bruce answered, and I smiled warmly.

'Of course it was.'

'I left that day.'

'Did you tell her you were going?'

Bruce paused and then spoke like a child admitting something that would get him scolded. 'No.'

'Bruce, why not?' I turned to ask.

'It was sort of a spur of the moment decision. I walked out of the city.'

'I'm sure she was pleased about that,' I said grimly. 'No wonder she's so- what did you do to the dough?!'

He stopped kneading it and lifted his hands out of the bowl as I forcefully pulled it across the bench.

'I… was kneading it,' he said, highly uncertain and trying not to show any signs of amusement. He stood back and watched me.

'Well you've done that, alright,' I said, poking the now very small and very hard lump a couple of times.

There was a pause as Bruce wisely said nothing and I continued to dejectedly poke the dough.

'Just chop these up,' I sighed and picked the bowl off the bench, circled round him and began to start again.

'Sorry,' he laughed.

I threw the brick of dough at him and found the flour again. 'You know, Rachel was really happy to see you,' I said.

'I know.'

I somehow, miraculously, got the impression he hadn't the faintest idea what I was talking about. 'No, really happy,' I emphasised.

That earnt me a bemused expression.

I sighed, shaking my head as I poured water into the bowl. 'You two. Honestly. You've known Rachel since childhood, correct? Childhood sweethearts, correct?'

'I wish you'd stop that,' Bruce chuckled, tortured, as he retreated into his job.

'So yes,' I said, ploughing through his tactics without a single care, 'now why couldn't you see just how much she wants you to ask her to go on a date or something?'

'I think she'd want me to stop being a playboy first.'

'I think she knows you're not actually one,' I countered simply.

Bruce switched arguments. 'I don't think it would be very honest.'

I groaned. 'Then tell the woman you love, and you've known since you were born that you're Batman, give her a week and then ask her out!'

Silence. Defeated, "I have no argument left but I still don't want to listen" silence.

I began to knead the new dough and scoffed. 'Rachel definitely wants to see you again.'

'So do I,' Bruce admitted.

I immediately seized my victory and put on the dramatic voice, focusing on the dough. 'Separated for seven years, the childhood lovers-,'

'We were never lovers!' He groaned.

'- -only because you ran away for seven years- reunited in an epic tale against- hang on, did you invite her to your birthday, or did Alfred?'

'Alfred did.'

'Bruce!' I exclaimed. 'Come on!'

'Just let me live in my ridiculous romantic situation in peace!' Reaching the bottom of his barrel of tactics he opted for throwing a handful of onion at me.

I laughed. With no close friends, and a judgemental, advice giving Alfred, Bruce had no one to vent at. My habits of teasing and treating it like I was spectating a sport had come to this.

He wailed as I laughed and determinedly put his head down. I set about getting onion out of the dough.

We talked about Crane, Falcone and Ra's Al Ghul while I attempted to teach him how to make pan fried dumplings.

I then parcelled a large portion of them into a container, shoved them into his hands and went to put my shoes back on.

'I'll drive you back.'

'Thanks,' he said, stealing a dumpling from the box.

We slid into my Aston and set off. By now it was late afternoon.

Bruce studied my very happy body language to determine I liked the car and then leant back into the passenger seat as I stopped at traffic lights.

Somehow, along the way of becoming a masked vigilante Bruce had blinked and found himself with a new person in his life. Right now, we were new and untested, we worked well enough together, and Batman and Thunder were just at the beginning, not yet climbing to the heights we wanted them to be.

We'd survived an event of Gotham's richest only by sticking together, so if that was any indication of what waited in the back alleys and narrows of Gotham, we'd be fine. We hadn't had a chance to show off just what Batman and/or Thunder could really do yet, there was a lot of our skills that we weren't aware of. I assumed Bruce was a good driver. He could determine I was the better fighter. I had my suspicions he'd take centre stage often with theatrics, based on what I'd seen of Batman so far.

I could be bribed and bought by cars, tea and biscuits.

Bruce's weakness was being outmatched in headstrong. So, Alfred and I working together.

Bruce… had an awful taste in music. I looked at the car stereo in horror. 'What on Earth is that?'

'It was on the radio,' he defended, switching between channels.

'I haven't set them yet,' I chastised and switched it off. 'Stop touching my car.'

He smiled and looked out of his window.

'No wonder Alfred needed a break,' I sighed. 'He didn't take the day off, though, did he?'

'Almost certainly not,' Bruce replied fondly, 'he probably spent the day cleaning the attic.'

'Oh. Poor Alfred.'

I dropped Bruce at the doors to Wayne Manor, Alfred opening the door.

'Hello, Master Wayne, Doctor Pendragon.'

Bruce passed him the dumplings and got out.

'Alfred, what time does the party start?' I called.

'You may arrive whenever you please, ma'am,' Alfred said pleasantly.

He needed my help keeping Bruce out of the way all day.

I nodded. 'I'll see you at lunchtime.'

Bruce hurried to escape our presence, not missing the unspoken agreements we were beginning to have.