Though Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter had been put behind bars waiting his criminal lawsuit, it already looked like the insanity plea would be available for use, especially since Arkham Asylum had officially opened its doors to allow for criminals to be interned. It had been temporarily shut down to install new features and fix old wiring to allow for the criminally insane to be housed appropriately, and have those that were residential patients to be kept safe under this new arrangement.

Still Dick's thoughts didn't linger on the deranged Tetch, instead he couldn't get over what Jason had told him about his parents. The Roman had put them to death. The mob-king had done this to countless families. People were always going missing in Gotham as of late —a desperate move to counter the vigilante that began to dominate the streets. He'd been trying to track down his movements, but he felt that he was too slow at caching up to the mobster. He had recently begun searching for any bodies found in the river; maimed to unrecognizable pieces. But nothing he searched for in the GCPD database had seemed to match up to what he was finding on his own when he took it upon himself to scour the usual body dump sites. The thought of a tall yellow-skinned man began to haunt him. His mind reeled with how the young boy might have gotten away, how he wound up with Jervis Tetch, and what this has anything to do with Falcone's operations as a whole around the city.

He had wanted to approach Bruce about what the boy had said, but refrained because it seemed to him that Bruce was distracted with furthering his business empire. Also, in a normally silent corner of his mind an idea began to gnaw away at him. Bruce was distancing himself. For now, his mentor engrossed himself in being Batman or the ever growing Wayne Enterprise, and the trust between the duo had become frustration as Dick found himself resenting his adoptive father more and more as time went by. He had found that the more he attempted to be independent, the more Bruce excluded him from cases. Grayson understood, in part, that it was also his fault that the tension had been growing, but he knew he had outgrown the 'just-a-sidekick' title.

The boy-wonder had resolved to confront Bruce dodging him, winding himself through the entrance into the Batcave from behind the grandfather clock. The familiar click from behind, and the flickering to life lights, although almost painfully dim, lead him through the tight passage, his light feet softly padding on the smooth stone stairway. He took in a deep breath, the cool underground air filled him up, making the determination grow more into stubbornness. He entered the lair to find a fully-clad Batman jump into the batmobile and drive off while Alfred yelled about tonight's gala.

Grayson stood there, his mouth wide open to what he had just seen and stomped his foot in contempt, as he rushed down the metal steps to the large monitors that had been left on standby. He began clicking away as Alfred stood idly by, accessing the encrypted system, and found another over-looked piece of evidence connected to the Maroni syndicate. Worse, it was a folder on someone that had been in town for certain the weekend of his parents' murder! His face burned with anger at the fact that Bruce had kept this from him; that he would go without him to track down this guy, and that he now had to play catch up and find Bruce to be a part of this.

The boy-wonder marched over to his suit, only to have Alfred stand closely behind him. "There is a gala tonight, Master Grayson, and someone must make an appearance," the composed butler said in a chillingly ominous tone.

Dick felt the chills run up his spine as Alfred marched him upstairs to ready himself for the party.

Alfred was upset.

Alfred shouldn't have to be upset, but Bruce ran off to fight more baddies and has left the boy behind —again— to entertain the guests. And Alfred had been tricked into believing that Bruce was trying be more responsible with his company (the only thing allowing him the spare cash he needs to be Batman).

"I do not like these things," Dick complained stiffly while Alfred tied his bowtie and he messed with his cuffs.

The boy stared at the reflection as the two of them just stood there in the mirror, the elder's laser focus on making his bowtie puff up and spread, then fixing his collar, "And what do you mean, Master Grayson?" Alfred mused.

He sighed as Alfred finally finished and straightened up, but Dick's eyes didn't look away from the mirror. "I don't know... the monkey suit I guess." Alfred looked to the mirror, his arm slightly bent and his face seemed unimpressed with whatever he saw in the mirror, looking down his nose, but the younger continued, "I don't like these stupid parties at our place, and Bruce is getting to be a hero while I'm stuck playing son of a host at a gala for someone I haven't met yet."

Alfred's gaze seemed to soften on the little blue-eyed reflection boy, "I would prefer him not to start a party that he intends to be late to, or worse, not show up at all."

Dick nodded in agreement, and then turned to the rest of his room which was clean only because Alfred had made it so. He sighed at the fact that he was always forced to help, at least a little, though he didn't mind having a mess. The room was spacious, a queen size bed all for himself, with a simple mahogany bed frame. The embedded shelf behind was filled with unnecessary books, random fiction and nonfiction that Alfred had apparently tried to force upon him as a child. The closet was a large walk in closet complete with a wardrobe that consisted of very interesting expensive clothing, and he admittedly only wore about three to five pieces of clothing ever, and those pieces spent a lot of time on the floor with Alfred's animosity.

Dick looked in the mirror once again and felt more peeved over entertaining Bruce's important Wayne Enterprises guests alone while he got to have all the fun swinging off of rooftops and onto mob guys faces and he looked for Dick's parents' killer.

Alfred looked to him and he suddenly has a strange thought of poor little Jason Todd being alone at the orphanage while all that paperwork to adopt him goes through. The boy-wonder tried to shake off the thought and follow Alfred to the large staircase that leads out to the foyer, where many people were already gathered drinking Champaign and talking. Some look up from their conversations, some with small finger foods being chewed, but most seem to ignore him. He couldn't imagine the little blond haired boy having to attend these parties too, probably how he couldn't have imagined himself here before his parents had been killed.

"Dick Wayne," someone to his right calls out as he slowly makes his way down those last few steps.

She was one of Bruce's overzealous secretaries, and he had seen her at the manor a few times, visiting with paperwork when Bruce just couldn't go into the office. Sometimes Bruce wouldn't even be there, but she'd drop off the work and always asked if he was home and if she could see him. She was pretty and maybe a few years older than Dick, hair dyed blonde, eyes a light brown, she liked the sun, slightly tanned with a few freckles on her face, along with that smile that permanently resided on it.

"Oh, hi," he managed as she gracefully walked over and once a few feet away lowered her gaze to the floor and tucked a few loose locks behind her ear. "Samantha, right?" oh dear God, does he hope her name is Samantha right now.

"Amanda," she corrected and smiled sheepishly as his blood rushed into his cheeks.

"Sorry," he quickly offered, and she nodded, the smile directed more at him than at the floor. "Amanda, how's the party going for you?"

She turned a bit to look at the other guests, and he took a moment to look her over, with a blue dress a little too short and way-too-high high-heeled shoes, and a strange but pleasant bun ponytail combo.

His eyes dash back to her eyes from her slim figure when she turned back to him, they both smile, "It's going pretty okay, I guess. I kept wondering when you and your father" —he winces— "would show up."

He nodded then quickly grabbed a large shrimp off a passing waiter's silver tray, and bit into it carefully so he won't look uncivilized, with one hand in his pocket to make it more nonchalant, more natural, he hoped. Once he swallowed the first bite, he looked at Amanda, "Sorry, I'm terrible with bowties, took me a little longer than expected to get ready."

She smiles again, "Mr. Wayne-"

He winces again, holding up the hand without the shrimp, "Dick, please."

She giggles, "Dick," she echoes, "when do you think Mr. Wayne will show up?"

When he feels he's had enough of bashing in faces, and standing over the city, he wanted to say, but settled for, "Soon I hope."

She gave a small sigh, and realized that her small signs that could be seen as flirtation were probably directed at Bruce and he wants to sigh too, but contented himself instead with stuffing the rest of the shrimp in his mouth.

He shakes a few of the board member's hands, trying so hard to remember all their names when they introduce themselves, in case one of them try to talk to him later on in the party. He stares at the doors, maybe forty feet in front of him when the door is opened and a woman, in a beautiful black mermaid gown, her long chocolate hair pushed to the left by a scorpion comb piece allowing the curls drape themselves over her left shoulder and down past her ample bosom though no cleavage shown. She has beautiful tanned skin, honeyed if that was a possibility, and had the aura of exotic lands Dick couldn't quite imagine. She placed a confident hand on her hip and scanned the room with sultry eyes, her mouth with a slight natural pout coated in a wine colored lipstick.

"Mr. Wayne?" Amanda asked in a small voice, and he realized that she had been talking this whole time, though instinctively he glanced around the room searching for Bruce, then realized that she had again taken to calling him that. Before he could answer he met those sultry green eyes that seemed to draw him in. She sauntered over, her hips swung gracefully with every step.

"Mr. Wayne?" She asked, her voice thick with an accent he couldn't place, her brow slightly raised.

"I..." Dick couldn't think of what to say. "Well that's..." He scratches the back of his head, then thought it rude immediately, then decided on holding out his hand to shake hers, "Richard, um, Wayne."

"Nasrin Safar," She said, looking carefully at his hand, and before he could awkwardly retract it, she slowly took it, giving it a confident shake. "Richard," she said incredibly awkwardly, "Wayne-"

"You can call me Dick," he quickly added, her hand still held his.

She nodded then continued, "I am a new associate of Wayne Enterprise… Do you happen to be Bruce Wayne's heir?"

He felt his face go hot, he had never really thought of that, "I..." He couldn't yet imagine at the age of sixteen what it would mean to run Wayne Enterprises, being a Grayson, a child from a circus running a rich man's show. Then he thought, he'll surely have some kids of his own by the time something like that would even have to happen, and they would probably take over instead. "Well, I'm kind of adopted, so I don't really know how that all works." He stated sheepishly.

"Oh," she said, sounding strangely relieved, causing him to feel more uncomfortable about having said that, and she finally releases his hand. "Where is he?" She asked suddenly, pulling him back into the conversation, pulling him from the thoughts of his parents, of watching them fall from so high, his father reaching for his mother, trying to pull her in, to protect her it seemed, but both hitting the ground, just beyond a the heads of the gasping audience.

His thoughts seemed to murmur far away, "Uh, he should arrive soon, I hope." Dick chipped in, as Nasrin's eyes scanned the crowd again.

Grayson felt empty as he snuck away from her and Amanda whom watched him back away and walk amongst the other guests. He kept mostly to himself until he spotted Lt. Gordon and made his way over to the old family friend. "Hello, Lieutenant," he tried, hands deep in his pockets as he approached.

Gordon's gaze scanned over the heads of the other guests came to rest on Grayson, "Hello son, how's the party?" The shook hands and the lieutenant's other hand clasped onto his shoulder.

"I'm supposed to ask that," he chided playfully, taking in the worn suit, and slightly peppered hair and moustache. He seemed older than he was; the stress of chasing criminals in a mobster city was catching up to his upright, law-abiding character. He was no "spring-hen," as he had put it before; he did have two children, both older than the young crime fighter. Dick had been to the same middle school as his daughter, Barbara, and he was friends with her. Still it seemed that the years of trying to chase the evil from the city had worked themselves on this man.

Gordon smiled a smile that reached his crow's feet, "Well you looked like you needed someone to ask you for a change."

He smiled back at the older man, and then his thoughts wandered again to the boy, Jason Todd, that Batman had left in the hospital, that Gordon took to the orphanage a week later. The orphanage named after Martha Wayne, the one that he had escaped from twice himself. He and Bruce visited the next day and looked into Jason's eyes after he made a police report over his mother's attack and told him that he had to wait there a little while. They had found out that the boy's father had died in prison around the same time they had found Jason with Jervis Tetch.

Jason claimed to have watched his mother being torn apart by a very large man that sounded like he was jaundiced, while he hung from his arms over the large man. He had been traded for money his mother owed for drugs, and so they dragged him to a cage. He said that they only let him out to beat him to a bloody pulp. He somehow escaped, though he had yet to explain how, and wound up with the Mad Hatter.

He had checked the police report as soon as it had been added to the database; Jason had so much internal bruising along with the bruising that was visible on his torso. His face had a few scrapes and bruising was found around his neck and wrists. Most of the harm done to him didn't seem to fit the mad hatter's profile, though that caused to question if he actually hurt the boy at all, seeing as they couldn't make a clear distinction from all the damage. The way Dick saw it, the boy was lucky to be alive, and honestly, he probably had some skills being able to survive so long on his own. He saw himself in the boy, though his own story might not be as insane, he still felt that the boy was impressive, and could be a great addition to the family. He brought his potential up to Bruce, only to be shown the adoption papers.

"How's that kid Bruce wants to adopt?" Dick asked, trying hard not to sound overly concerned since he's supposed to be clueless about what Jason's been through.

"He has nightmares, from what I hear, and he just got the okay from the Docs, though they did hold him for observation for a while," he answered honestly, and Dick was grateful that the Lieutenant viewed him as someone to be honest with. It meant he could talk a bit more about Jason without leading on with how much he found on his own. "I know that this place will be a big change, he's been through too much… Hell, I remember when Bruce took you in, you didn't seem like you had quite gotten to mourn enough and the waterworks would start up at any moment. Just watch him a lot, okay?"

Dick nodded, watching your parents die, and being powerless, he knew the feeling. Jason had watched his mother die while he was helpless. From what was on the case file on Jervis, any other child his age or size would have died from the shock alone. The internal damage would take time to heal, but he seemed to get along without complaining.

"He seems angry all the time, which is normal," Gordon continued, "don't be too hard on him." He takes a moment to scan the room again.

Finally Bruce walked in through the front doors, smiling, his arms opened wide, and people start to gather around him. He took their hands with both of his and shook theirs with confidence. Gordon began to swiftly make his way over, but Grayson decided to try to sneak closer to the stairs, and as he turned he nearly ran into Alfred.

"The party's not over yet, Master Richard, you should stay and partake some more," he commented coolly, his eyes dead-set on Bruce.

Dick turned to see the people moved away back to talking to each other, while Nasrin made her way to Bruce, and though Gordon was talking to him, she interrupts, a few more words were exchanged with the Lieutenant and then a hand came up on Bruce's part and the old detective left the manor. Bruce walked around with Nasrin elegantly on his arm and made his rounds at the party though he's just said hello to all there. He plucked a champagne glass from a waiter and Nasrin mimicked him when she had the chance. They tapped glasses and sipped.

When they turned to make their way to an old couple Dick noted her back was bare down to the small of her back, and toward the end of the gap there was this interesting design laced on the dress, though what it was Dick couldn't tell from this distance. He watched Bruce place his hand there, looking over to her and smiling, her lips curling slightly.

"I don't need to watch this," he told Alfred, and made his way up the stairs without a single protest from him.