"It doesn't come in red." Bruce takes a measured breath. "We can get you the leather case in red."
"I liked the red." There's a stubborn edge to her voice. He runs his thumb over the twitch in his eyebrow. He hates it when she pouts. And no, damn it, he's not going to feel guilty for drowning her phone.
"Look, we'll get it in gold, then I can swap out the bodies when we get home. Deal?"
"And that will work? Just as it had before?"
"Yes."
"All right." Her eyebrow ticks upward. He's not exactly clear on what he's agreeing to, but her stance and the brightness of her eyes tell him it's something significant. "We have a deal," she says. "But a deal is a promise, Bruce Wayne. And a promise is unbreakable."
"It's a phone."
"No matter." Her shrug belies the undercurrent of importance in her attitude.
Bruce has always been a man of action, the things he does provide meaning, display worth. But to her, words meant something, as much as action. Makes sense for the woman who wields the lasso of truth. If the spoken truth couldn't hold importance, then the intention behind those words was meaningless. So he makes a vow, even if it is over a phone. "I promise."
"Monsieur?"
"We'll take the gold, and this black one." Bruce puts his black card in the man's hand before turning to her. "At least yours is easy. I have to rebuild my entire phone from scratch because you shattered it."
"I'm sorry." Her petulant tone is gone as she steps into his embrace and toys with the collar of his shirt. "When you make the comm system for the rest of the team. Can you make mine in red?"
He chuckles and presses a kiss to her temple. "Of course, Princess."
They gather their purchases and exit into the sunshine of the late afternoon. His eyes scan the streets for paparazzi. With the house being opened, it wouldn't take much for someone to become alerted to their presence here. He's been out of the tabloid radar over the last few years but a camera lens or two would rear their ugly heads now and again. The last thing he wants is to bring attention to her in the public consciousness as the newest arm candy to billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne.
They have yet to discuss how they would handle their public personas. He mentally catalogued that as a conversation for another day. Because in truth, he didn't have an answer. She was essentially out as Wonder Woman and he needed to maintain a cover.
Her arm loops through his, drawing him from his thoughts. With a contented sigh, she presses her cheek to his shoulder as they walk down the winding Medieval stone paths of the village. They meander in and out of the small boutiques and shops, where he buys her some designer scarves and a veritable safe full of jewelry before they end up at a balcony tavern that overlooks the vista below. She speaks impeccable French to the waitress when she orders.
"How many languages do you speak?"
"All of them."
He huffs a laugh. "And here I was thinking I didn't want to boast with 40."
"As Amazons, we are defenders of all mankind. We must be able to communicate, no?"
"Is this from 5000 years of reading books, or is it part of your…powers?"
The waitress comes back to deposit their drinks and Diana thanks her with a nod. She waits until the girl is out of earshot before she continues. "I was gifted with the wisdom of Athena, but my education did require hours of study. Much to the consternation of my teachers." Her lips turn up in a sheepish grin. "I was a precocious child."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?"
She blows on her tea with a little smirk teasing at her lips. "I'm sure if I were to question Alfred about your childhood years I would hear much the same."
"I'm sure he would say my precociousness never ended."
She let out a wistful sigh as she takes in the vista. "This place really is a lot like Themyscira. The roughhewn stone, the archways and cobbled stone paths. I can't help but feel nostalgic."
They'd never spoken much about where she came from. He's only ever gotten bits and pieces that she reveals as she sees fit. He wanted so badly to do the research but he knows that if he digs too deep, she'll be angry, so he doesn't. The restraint it takes is a true testament to his patience. "Have ever you been back?"
"No. When I made the decision to leave, it was forever, never to return." She doesn't turn her eyes to him. Instead, her melancholy gaze is fixed over the ocean lost in memories.
"I don't understand. Why not just go back?"
"I cannot." Her pointer finger traces a zigzag over the table cloth before she meets his gaze steadily. "Themyscira is a mystical island concealed from Man's World by Zeus upon his dying breath. He hid the island to protect us from Ares, who had corrupted mankind. For thousands of years, Amazons lived in peace, preparing for the inevitable return of Ares."
"Ares as in the God of war?"
"Yes, that Ares, my brother," she says so matter-of-factly that he can't dwell on the inconceivability before she continues, "When Steve Trevor crashed through the barrier, he brought the War to End All Wars to our shores. German soldiers came to our sacred beaches and spilled Amazon blood. My aunt was killed."
And then it became tangible. "That was why you left, vengeance."
"No, not vengeance. It is our sacred duty to protect mankind from Ares and his corruption. My mother refused. But I could not stand by and do nothing. I stole my suit of armor, my shield and the Godkiller sword, all of which I thought were relics of honor among Amazons." She shakes her head with an ironic frown. "I learned later the relics had been intended for me all along. For my sword was not the Godkiller. I was."
"And?" His back presses against the chair and his eyebrows raise. He tries not to, but they move anyway. Godkiller.
"I killed my brother Ares to save mankind. It didn't work. And now I can never return to my home."
He blows out a breath between his lips absorbing all she has revealed. The more he peels back her layers, the more intrigued he becomes with her. He's not sure he wants the answer to his next question but he asks anyway. "Do you regret…leaving?"
"For a long time, I did." She lifts her eyes to his. "I closed myself off, shut myself down. I believed that men didn't deserve my compassion. I returned to fight when I was truly needed, but remained apart from the conflicts of Man's World. It wasn't until I discovered an ordinary man, with no powers, armed only with his determination and cunning, that I realized I needed to reevaluate my beliefs."
"Steve Trevor."
"No, you're not listening, Bruce." There's an exasperation to her laugh. "That man is you."
He swallows thickly. He can't be the reason she stayed.
"You train, you plan, you prepare and over-think, you design and create tools to enhance your crusade. What I saw in you wasn't just a skilled warrior, but a man with a sacred duty innate and ingrained in him, like myself. A man who believed in his cause. In hope. In all your darkness, there is still hope inside of you. It's why you sought me out to develop this team."
"No. It's a hefty dose of fear of what's to come. Steppenwolf was only the beginning." He shakes his head. "I don't have the means to stop it. You do."
"No, you have the ability to seek out means to fill in the gaps of your abilities. You smartly surround yourself with others who enhance your mission. That is what a good leader does. You can try to push me or Kal-El into the role of leader but you will always be the center point of this team. The one that keeps all the working parts moving."
He scoffs. "The chess master?"
"Of sorts, yes."
He takes in the reverence and determination in her eyes. It was true what he said to her. She makes people to see their better selves. A smile rises in agreement with the metaphor. "So long as you'll be my Queen."
"I'd like that very much." Her smile blinds him and he doesn't mind in the slightest.
He takes her hand in his. "Thank you for telling me your story."
They finish their meal and walk along the wall that over hangs the beach. The amber light of the coming sunset casts a glow over the area. He stops and folds her into his arms. She comes easily. Her lips brush his in a sweet kiss. He takes a moment to just gaze into her eyes and finds his own reflection there. He almost doesn't recognize himself. Seeing the better side of himself, hearing her praise and her belief in him is humbling and uplifting all at the same time. She makes him want to be a better man.
"I love my job," she sighs. "But I do not want this weekend to end."
"Me too."
"Alas, reality calls."
"Always does."
Her fingers toy with the buttons on his shirt. "When will I see you again?"
"Not sure. I have a full roster of meetings and events coming up. Board of Directors and such."
"Yes, my schedule is full, as well."
He runs the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "How much do you think it costs to buy the Louvre?"
Her musical laughter floats over him. "$100 billion dollars possibly, why?"
"Because then I can move you to Gotham permanently."
"As much as I would love that, I don't think Paris would let you move the Louvre." She brushes her lips on his and lingers. "Even the mighty Bruce Wayne couldn't pull that one off."
He tips his head. "Maybe not."
"However," her eyes sparkle up at him. "I would be willing to consider a more permanent solution in the near future."
His heart flips in his chest and he takes a breath. Permanency. He hasn't thought of things in a long-lasting construct in decades. But now, he finds that he looks toward the future more and more.
"I would like that very much," he says.
"If you move my armoire into your room at the manor, we could consider that a temporary solution?"
"Consider it done, Princess."
Yes, he would like that very much indeed.