Joanna looked across the room, through the smoky haze from a dozen cigarettes (or maybe joints) being passed from person to person. Her boyfriend, Ryan, was over there. Flirting with her.

Melissa Tillman was a pretty thing, and she had taken the school—or at least Joanna's social circle—by storm. Ryan, just like every other heterosexual male, was tripping over himself to get the girl a refill, to talk to her. Joanna could have dealt with that. She'd gone into the relationship knowing Ryan had a wandering eye, but also knowing that his eye always wandered back to her.

With this Melissa Tillman around, his eye wasn't doing much wandering.

"I wonder if he even knows I'm here," Joanna muttered, downing the last of her beer. She wished she got the same buzz off alcohol that the average human being did. She'd had more than her fair share, yet she was only beginning to feel a bit warm and fuzzy.

"Of course he does," Emma Scully, her roommate, said. Emma was much more thoroughly into her cups than Joanna had ever managed to be. "Why do you think he's being so careful not to look over here?"

"Bastard."

"Cute, though."

"Shut up, Emma."

"No—Joanna," Emma said, setting her cheap plastic cup aside and turning in order to have more room to gesticulate while she spoke. "All I'm saying is you have excellent taste."

"Yeah. He's such a winner." Joanna rolled her eyes.

"Well," Emma said, glancing back across the room, smirking. "His arse is a winner."

"I'm going to get some air," Joanna said, getting to her feet and pretending to be tipsy.

"There's air in here," Emma said, but she moved her knees so that Joanna could get by.

The party was in the basement of Joanna's sorority house—a big, noble-looking building with ivy growing up the sides—at Gotham University. It was one of the more out-of-the-way houses, located off-campus; thus, one of the more active houses went so far as parties were concerned. It even had convenient alleys on either side to throw up in if one overindulged.

There were squad cars outside the building, which wasn't abnormal. As it was off-campus, the other buildings on the block weren't necessarily full of students who, though they tended to be loud and obnoxious and throw parties on the weekends, also had to go to class and study occasionally if they wanted to remain in the house. The people down the block, for instance, used that time when they weren't at college to make drugs—hence the long-anticipated drug bust in progress.

Joanna turned away from the flashing lights and shouting. There was no plan. She would take the alley around to the other side of the building and walk toward campus. There were usually a few of her friends, the ones who didn't like to go to every single party every weekend, hanging out in the park a few blocks over. They'd be surprised to see her but it wouldn't be a bad surprise.

A hulking figure materialized in the darkest patch of alley.

"Good God, you scared me out of my brain," Joanna said, nearly falling over at the sight of him down the alley.

Characteristically, he didn't say anything. He merely crouched there on the dumpster, cape twitching in some phantom wind.

Petulantly, Joanna entered the alley, crossing her arms and leaning against the opposing wall, staring him down. When Superman was your father, spotting Batman in an alley wasn't so exciting as it could have been. Her heart was racing from the surprise, but she tried not to show it.

"You're being very stupid, Joanna," he said. He was putting on his low, gravelly voice. His Batman Voice, the way Dad had a Clark Voice and a Superman Voice.

"I know it's a silly thing to obsess over, but—" She stopped, realizing Batman had definitely not showed up in the alley beside her building just to tell her she was being stupid about a boy. Not even her father did that. "Wait. What?"

"You are being stupid, girl."

Joanna frowned at him. "I don't need this lecture. Especially not from you. Isn't there a criminal somewhere you should apprehend?" She thumbed toward the end of the alley where the police lights were still flashing.

"I'm here to see you."

"You're not my father."

"This is my city. Your dad doesn't come here." His tone was even; he was merely stating a fact. "That's why you came to college here, I think."

Joanna frowned at him, mostly because he was right. There were very few places one could go to escape Superman, but Gotham was one of them. Dad tended to leave Gotham alone, with John Blake and Uncle Bruce there playing the long game. It had taken some convincing when she'd first proposed the idea, but her mother had been on her side—she needed space; she needed to be away from the perfection of her parents' marriage and her super-siblings. She needed her own place. Someplace not dominated by the comings and goings of Superman. Someplace she could feel independent.

"Do you have a point?"

"Get your act together, Joanna," he snapped, eyes flashing. The deeper, rougher voice was more threatening than his normal voice; she suddenly understood why he did it. "You're better than that." He pointed at one of the small window wells where light leaked out from around a grubby curtain, the bass of the music from the party thumping through the glass.

"It's not like I'm doing permanent damage to my liver or something."

"That's not the point."

"Sure it is."

"Joanna," he snapped again. She'd stepped away from the wall and had been talking with her arms, but she subsided at the tone in his voice. "You can drink and party as much as you want, and it won't hurt you. But look around you. You're not going to make it through law school if you keep up like this."

"Oh, really? I have Dad's metabolism, Dad's memory. I'll do fine!"

"You're just as able to become addicted to something as anybody."

"I don't need this lecture from you." Joanna turned away, hoping to make a clean escape from the alley and head back to the party—she couldn't very well go through with her plan to stay away 'til the party ended now that he'd told her to do as much.

"Oh really? Who would you prefer gave you 'this lecture'?" She turned back to him, fists clenched. "Your father? Mother? Maybe I should call some of the officers from around the corner. How many people at that party of yours are minors, do you think?"

"What do you want from me?" She practically screamed it out, furious. He had no right to step on her life like this.

"Get on the right track, Jo," he said, suddenly calm. He used his normal voice.

She blinked at him.

"I am on the right track."

"Get on the express, then," he said. "No more of this shit." He indicated the party with his chin.

Joanna bit her cheek.

"Go on in and go up to bed, Jo," Bruce said. He got off the dumpster with a flick of his cape, putting a hand on her shoulder and urging her back around the building. "Next time there's a party, come to my house and we'll spar instead."

"Unless you're at a party. Or you're out here," she muttered. Bruce just smiled and leaned in to give her forehead a kiss, then disappeared into the shadows.