Chapter I – Bruce Wayne

April 9th 2012

Minkas Jackan glared into my eyes, as if burning out my soul.

"Looking for something?" I ask, holding up the bag of stolen jewels.

"Couldn't you leave us alone for one night, you dumb cat?! I'm so sick of you messing up our plans!" Minkas shouts.

"Now why would I do that?" I ask, twirling my whip.

"How did you know we were here anyways?!" Jackan's brother, Shu, complained.

"Little birdy told me…." I smirk, "Or should I say, little kitty."

Minkas's girlfriend pounded her fist into her hand, "You going to fight us or what, bitch?!" she growled.

"Tsk tsk tsk, such language Darla…." I say.

"GRRRRRAAAHHH!" Minkas yells, charging at me.

I throw the bag up onto a fire escape and easily step aside to avoid Minkas, letting him run five feet past me before realizing he missed. I flick my whip around his stomach, yanking him towards me. "Now Minkas, I never knew you were such a baby…having temper tantrums makes you look so immature…."

"You know what Cat? F*** YOU!" he shouts, trying to punch me.

I kick him back, my left eyebrow raised, "Oh Minkas, you mouth is more foul than your girlfriend's! I'm disappointed in you…." I mock.

Shu and Darla come at me, black baseball bats raised, and in a swift movement, I do a front handspring, whacking out my legs out sideways to knock them away simultaneously.

They groan but don't fall down. Instead, all three of the Jackan Gang come charging at me again. Uh oh...Think Selina, THINK! I notice something jutting out of the wall near me. Ah, there's my chance! In a flash, I sling my whip around whatever it is and swing upward, knocking Minkas and Shu into a wall, knocking them out in the process. Once on the roof, I whip the bag of jewels into my arms and wave it back in forth, teasing Darla. "Come and get it birdbrain!" I shout.

Darla glares, "Really biatch? You're gonna play that game?" she yells, "Why don't you stop being a coward, come down, and actually do something other than yakking on?!"

"Oh I will do something eventually, but pissing you off right now is far more fun." I sneer.

Darla throws her bat up at me, but it misses and bounces pitifully off of the brick wall with a loud *CHINK*.

"Is that really the best you got?" I call, lazily sitting down with my legs hanging over the edge.

Darla glares at me, but throws her hands up in frustration and turns to walk away. I chuckle to myself. Then, in an instant, I swing down and slam her into a wall, knocking her out. I chuckle again; never turn your back to your opponent. It's a lesson I learned the hard way a long time ago.

After making sure all three of the Jackan Gang are out, I drag them to a lamp post right in view of any passerby, and secure them to it by their necks with a couple of bike chains I scrounged for in the junkyard last night. I tie the bag of stolen goods to the light above their heads, and just before I ride away on my old Harley Night Train, I leave a sarcastic note for the GCPD taped to Minkas's head.

When I get back to the den, a gray tabby greets me and rubs up against my legs,

"Hello Barty." I say, reaching down to pick him up.

"How did things go?" he meows.

"Fine…" I say, stroking Bartus—Barty—'s head, "But I have to say, it wasn't my best work."

Bartus frowns, "How so?"

"Ehhh, I just think I could have been better. Faster, slyer, etc."

Bartus nudges his head under my chin, "Uh huh, sure…." he teases.

I flick him on the nose playfully and set him down. "Boots!" I call with a smirk.

Within a few moments, a dorky young cat with black fur and white paws waltzes into the foyer, "Yeeessss Selina?" he asks, cocking his head.

"Go get Lotus and the others, I brought Salmon for dinner since it's a special occasion."

Boots purrs and bounces away, "SalmonSalmonSalmon!" he says excitedly to no one in particular.

Once Boots is out of earshot, Bartus looks up at me, "Salmon? How on earth were you able to get such expensive fish…? You didn't steal, did you? Because you promised you wouldn't anymore."

I hold back a laugh; oh Bartus… The only cat—other than his mother, Helilah—I've ever known who didn't like thieving…

"No. Not at all." I pause to look up at the cats pouring in towards the ancient dining table, "I'll explain later."

One by one, I dish out the pink fish to my feline family, and am greeted with a purr from each one. Unlike most formal English—well, and human—families, my family and I never wait for other people before eating, so before I have even sat down, all of my cats are already eating, the room a roar with purring and the smacking of mouths.

Bartus is the first to finish, and he looks down the table at me, "Thank you, Selina. And not just for this meal, but for starting this clan and giving us all shelter and food for all these years. Today we honor the first clan, led by Marinn Tarver, and honor the day you came into our den. I was merely a kitten at the time, but you changed all of us, and saved my life. You are my best friend, and I think I speak for all of us when I say, you are a savior to all of us."

"Cheers to that!" a gray Scottish Fold with piercing orange eyes shouts, and all the cat join in.

"Thank you Bartus, and Malü, and all the rest of you." I grin, my cheeks warming from the compliments, "My life would be nowhere without the clans, and you all are the best family I've ever had."

As many of the cats head to their beds, Bartus and I head into the main corridor, "You had something to tell me?" he asks.

"Ah, yeah…" I look around to make sure no one is eavesdropping, "I, um, met someone while I was near the market today."

"Human or feline?"

"Human."

"And?" he asks curiously.

"He was a bit strange, but he seemed nice."

"Oh, a he huh?" Bartus interrupts me with almost a knowing tone in his voice.

"Don't." I say, squinting at him, "That has nothing to do with this… As I was saying, he was a bit odd."

"How so?"

"Well for one, he seemed to know what happened to me as a child… something almost no Gothamites actually remember…"

"Hmmm…"

"And what was the weirdest, was that he just straight up gave me a loaded credit card!"

"Wait, what?"

"Yes!" I say excitedly, showing him the silver card, "And now, he wants me to meet him for lunch tomorrow at a fancy café."

Bartus looks astonished, "You aren't actually considering it, are you?"

"He gave me a fricking credit card with a couple thousand dollars on it, Bartus! Meeting this guy for lunch is the least I can do." I exclaim, "And plus, he seemed to want to tell me something. Like he knew more than what he was letting on… I'm too curious not to go."

"Well you can't go looking like you usually do, you'd stick out like a sore thumb in that restaurant."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Well, you already have the money,…and I know of a really pompous 'spa and shop' just around the corner. We can go first thing in the morning."

"But won't I stick out just as much there?" I ask in a puzzled tone.

"Pull an act, Selina. You've managed to do that before, haven't you?"

I pause. He's referencing my thieving days when I was younger… Back then, I'd occasionally pull a stunt where I'd sit on the corner, acting desperately cold and hungry, begging for food. And, every so often, I'd manage to drag in a customer. As soon as they heard my sap story, they'd immediately hand me a piece of clothing, money, or food, and they would be so oblivious, that they wouldn't even notice me swiping more things from their bags and pockets. I had gotten very good at that. But I haven't done that in years. I've changed. I promised myself I'd never belong to that world again.

Bartus stares up at me, waiting for an answer, but he seems to realize what I'm thinking, "Selina, it wouldn't be stealing—you know I wouldn't encourage that. The guy you met gave you the money for a reason, and this is most likely one of them. The money basically belongs to you at this point, all you'd be doing is making up a story so you won't look like you stole the card and/or get completely kicked out of the store."

I ponder this. He is right.

"We'll go first thing in the morning." He says, "Now come on, let's go to bed."

As soon as Bartus is asleep, I sneak out to the dump to do a little shopping for my disguise tomorrow, and once I do return home again, it doesn't take long at all for me to fall asleep. And when I do, I start dreaming about the encounter earlier today.

I was at the fish market—my usual roaming place—in some of my ratty clothes, looking for scraps dropped by clumsy customers. As I was walking, I spotted a pile of fresh flounder, and stared longingly at it as I walked. I wanted so desperately to steal some, but I couldn't. But, I was so enticed by it, I didn't even notice the young man walking in my direction until it was too late and we had both fallen to the ground. I knew it had been an accident on both our parts, but the way he bumped into me…it almost seemed forced.

"I am so sorry!" I apologized, my eyes filled with concern; he seemed like one of the rich and pompous of Gotham—especially with the thousand dollar suit he was wearing—and I had just knocked him to the ground.

The man stood up and gave me a funny look, and I suddenly realized I had said it in feline. I quickly repeated myself before the mood became even more awkward.

"That's alright." he said in a deep voice, helping me to my feet. He raised an eyebrow, "Did you meow at me just a second ago?"

"No!" I said, just a little too quickly.

The man stared at me suspiciously, but his frown turned into a kind smile and he stuck out his hand. "I'm Bruce by the way. Bruce Wayne." he announced, shaking my hand, "What's your name?"

"Selina… Selina Kyle." I said slowly. I knew my name more than anyone, but I hadn't said it fully—or in English for that matter—in years.

"Selina Kyle…" Bruce repeated, thinking. "I feel like know that name… Have we met before?" he asked.

"I don't think so." I said with a shaky laugh. I'm still a wanted fugitive, and I shouldn't have said my real name. I seriously put my freedom and safety in jeopardy. Nice going Selina… "I should be heading back." I said awkwardly and turned to leave,

"Wait! Don't go." Bruce said, grabbing my arm.

I stared at him, "Why not?"

He laughed nervously and looked at his feet, "Uh, can we just walk and talk for a second?"

I scrunched my eyebrows, "Uuhh okay…I guess."

We walked around the market, but the food wasn't what had my attention. This man, Bruce Wayne, was odd. And while I know I didn't know him from before, I couldn't help but feel like I knew him.

"What's your interest in me,…Bruce?" I asked.

He gave me a look that said 'I want to tell you everything' but he glanced away nervously, "Erm, you want some, uh, fish?" he asked

"Um, I guess,…" I raised an eyebrow, then shook my head, trying to focus, "Don't get off topic. I want to know who you are and why you suddenly want to talk to me."

He sighed and got close to my ear, "I know who you are, Selina."

I wanted to shout out 'WHAT?!', but I didn't because there were too many people and it would attract a lot of attention. Instead, I stared at him, my eyes big as saucers.

He put his hand over my mouth, "Shhh, don't worry, I'm not going to turn you in to the police. You don't deserve to be locked up in a cell after what happened to your family." He said in undertone.

"H-how do you remember that? Or even know me? The police closed things up ages ago and the only person still on the lookout for me is Jim Gordon." I whispered back

"Let's just say he's a friend of mine."

"B-but you're not going to turn me in?" I asked, paranoid.

"No," he glanced around, "But I am giving you this." Suddenly he shoved a silver credit card in my hands.

I stared down at in amazement.

"Use it for whatever you want. I've got a couple thousand saved up in that account, and now it's yours. And if anyone is suspicious of the money, you can verify it with your name and the code I left on the back."

I glanced up at him in awe, then stared down at the card again, examining it.

"Wow… Thank—" I stared to say, looking up, but he was gone, "—you?"

I turned the card over again, this time noticing something taped to the back. A note. I pulled it off and unfolded it. This is what it read:

'Verification code: 5231991

If you want to know more about my secrets and what I know of yours, meet me at the Café Le Petit Luxurieux around two o'clock. I'll be waiting for you at the door.'

April 10th

The dream fades quickly and I awake with a jolt to the sound of a yowling cat. I roll over to see a huge snake cornering Bartus. Its jaws are open, ready to strike, but something seems weird about it.

Before it notices me, I leap out of bed, land on top of it, and rip off the head with my hands. But instead of bloody insides, the snake is filled with wires and gears. I look at the head and see the eyes are made of glass.

"Thanks." Bartus says gratefully.

"No problem…" I say, staring at the robotic body, "How did it get in here?"

Bartus tilts his head and nods at small hole where the wall meets the floor, "Tunneled its way in."

Why a robot though? What was it after? Who sent it? I don't bring this up to Bartus. He wasn't paying attention to what was inside the snake when I ripped it apart, and now I'm thinking I shouldn't even bring it up or else he'll worry.

"You gonna take me to that 'Spa and Shop'?" I ask, pulling on the torn—but still evidently expensive—dress I found at the dump last night.

"Sure… What's with the dress though?"

"It's part of my disguise for the act."

"Ah. Well you go ahead and get ready, I'll be waiting for you out front."

"Okay." I say. I turn to the ancient box of makeupI was lucky enough to discover last night and start putting it on. Once I have it in a way that looks normal, I wet my fingers and smear it across my face as if I cried and rubbed my face. I don't have to do much to my hair because it's already a big mess. Finally, I tuck the silver card and the note with its verification code into my shoe to hide it. And now, my disguise is complete. Of course, my lingering smell and body hair is something that doesn't quite play along with the story I'm building in my mind, but if it does get to that, I'll be too far in for them to do anything.

"Oh my…" Bartus says as I walk out of the opening to the den.

"All part of the act my dear Barty."

"Pretty ridiculous if you ask me,…but I'll admit, you do look pretty convincing."

I smirk.

The spa andshop Bartus brings me to is called The Pampered Ones. We now stand near its front doors, but Bartus is keeping me back.

"You still sure you trust this guy?" he asks.

"Yes." I say firmly, though right now, I'm basically asking myself the same thing.

As I walk into the store, I begin to get strange looks from other shoppers who look like they are extremely rich.

One of the shoppers walks slowly to the counter—watching me the whole time—whispers something to a manager named Malcolm, and points in my direction. Malcolm nods, his eyes slightly narrowed at me, and walks across the store to me.

"Good day." He says snobbishly, "Can I help you with something?" he adds, his eyes scanning my appearance up and down.

Being quite skilled in this kind of acting, I force tears to my eyes, "P-please monsieur… a group of delinquents mugged me a-and d-did…things…" I sob. Yeah, I know, not one of my best stories, but judging by Malcolm's peaked interest, I'd say he's buying it, "They ruined my clothes and stole everything I had on me,…except this." I say holding up the card. Malcolm's eyes are wider. "Please, I can't go to the police l-looking—looking like this. And to make things worse, I'm supposed to meet my love for lunch this afternoon and I have nothing to wear!"

You may be thinking, 'Well that was the vainest and most unbelievable story in the history of sob stories…', but in truth, that's the kind of crap you'll hear from most of the rich and vain in Gotham. Yes, some of them actually care more about their appearance than their own wellbeing… Pretty sad, right?

Anyways, Malcolm buys it word for word and stares at me worriedly, probably thinking I'll get him fired for treating me poorly, but you and I both know I wouldn't do that even if I could.

"I am so so sorry Madam, I'll see to it that you'll get the best of care here. But first, I just need to check to see if your card is valid… if that's alright with you."

I nod, dramatically brushing away my tears, and give the card to him.

"Now you'll just need to type in your code after I swipe, and the computer will do the rest."

Malcolm swipes and I type in the seven digit code. In a second, the computer shows the balance, which—to both of our amazement—is a solid 50 grand. A number way beyond what Bruce told me it was. Malcolm's eyes are wide, but I hide my surprise.

"Er, Molly, pick out all of our finest dresses for this young lady." he calls over his shoulder to one of the other employees. The woman looks over me, curiously raising an eyebrow, but nods and goes to grab the garments.

"Here Madam." He says, handing me a handkerchief, I dab my eyes like I've seen actresses in movies do and hand it back to him. I fake a gloomy smile.

"Now, if you'll follow me to the spa in the back, we have a talented esthetician, hairdresser, and makeup artist that can fix you right up!"

"Certainly, that sounds lovely." I reply, having to hide how absolutely excited I am that I'm getting to be pampered this much.

"Right this way then!"

The spa area in the back of the building that Malcolm was referring to is amazing! It has sparkling, pale pink granite floors, cavernous ceilings with large crystal chandeliers, large marble tubs with many faucets, and a mirror on every wall.

On one side, there are hair and makeup stations with cushiony seats at every one, and the other side is all tubs, nail stations, massage areas, and some stations for something I don't know.

"Here we are." Malcolm announces, stopping at the third tub, "Your esthetician will be with you shortly."

I nod and sit down in a chair beside the tub.

Within minutes, a woman with a name tag that says Betty and is no more than a couple years older than me, walks to my chair. "Right this way" she says, pulling me behind a curtain. She tells me to undress.

Meanwhile, Betty turns on one of the taps and tests the water. When she thinks it is warm enough, she motions for me to get in.

When I slide into the water, it's like I'm in heaven—I haven't taken a real warm bath in probably 10 years. Betty ties up my hair, picks up a bath sponge, and begins to scrub my back and then my arms. When she finishes the areas I can't reach on my own, she hands me the sponge so I can clean the rest of my body.

When I am free of years of muck and grime (and the smeared makeup I added to the concoction earlier), I get out of the tub and Betty promptly hands me a fluffy white towel and a robe, which she ties around me after I'm done drying myself.

Next, she sits me down at the closest station (the one I don't know) and turns a small knob which starts to heat something in a metal dish.

Betty pulls some strange, shiny paper out of a drawer and lays it next to the metal dish. She turns to me, "This might be a little hot." she says as she dips a rubber tipped stick into the dish. When Betty pulls it back out, I immediately recognize the substance. It's warm, melted wax. Betty paints it onto my legs and lays a sheet of the paper on top of it. Then, without warning, she rips all of it off, taking the hair on my legs with it. I nearly scream, but I bit my lip. "Sorry." Betty says, pressing her cold hand on my shin.

"What was that for?" I ask a little squeakily.

"I'm removing the hair off of your body." she replies. She looks at me curiously, "Haven't you ever gotten a wax?"

"No!" I say, gasping from the pain

Betty stares at me for a second, but doesn't question me.

Like I said before, if it ever did get to this point, I'd be too far in for them to do anything. And this, is pure evidence of that.

After a long and painful session of waxing, I am completely hair free.

Betty moves me to one of the nail stations and sets up two bowls, what almost looks like a mini hot tub, a bunch of small tools for nails, and 3 bottles of nail polish. She has me put each hand into the warm, soapy bowls of water and my feet into the now bubbling tub. She rubs my legs and arms with a sweet mineral scrub and begins cutting away my cuticles on my hands, then on my feet.

After that, she cuts and buffs each nail to perfection, she puts on 4 layers of nail polish on—a clear bottom coat, two coats of white (only on the tips), and one top coat.

When my nails are dry and smooth, she takes me to a hair washing basin with another woman (her nametag says Scarlett) standing beside it, "Your hairdresser is ready for you now." Betty says as she sits me down in the chair.

Scarlett unties my hair and has me lay back so my head is resting in the basin. After she turns on the water, she asks me if it's warm enough.

"Yes, it feels perfect." I say, closing my eyes to enjoy the water.

Scarlett washes and scrubs my hair, making it all sudsy, and then rinses it thoroughly. When my hair is—for the first time in forever—sparkling clean, she moves me to the hair and makeup station.

"What style would you like your hair to be?" she asks, handing me a pamphlet.

I flip through all the styles until I find one that I think fits my style—a sort of asymmetrical bob cut. I show it to Scarlett, but she gives me an astonished look.

"But dear, are you sure you want that much cut off? A fine young lady like you should go with a style like this." She points to a long wavy cut that comes to the chest and has soft, side bangs, "I think your man will find this cut makes you look more like a princess!"

I think it over for a moment, "Hmmm… Alright!" I agree finally. Eh, why not go full out on beauty? It's not like I can't afford it…

Scarlett starts by combing out my hair, pulling out all the large knots that have developed over the years. She pins up large upper sections of hair, and begins cuts my black, waist length hair until it's all the same length. After that, she cuts a section near my forehead shorter to create the bangs.

When all the hair has fallen to the floor, Scarlett then brushes my hair out again and dries it. After that, she curls the tips of my hair into long curls that shape around my face in an elegant oval.

"How do you like it?" she asks when she finishes.

"Like it? I love it!" I exclaim.

"Good." She smiles, "Your makeup artist will be with you in a moment."

Pretty soon, a man named Norbert comes to take Scarlett's place.

"How are you today young lady?" he asks, his voice is a little higher than I expected and slightly nasally.

"Very well thank you."

"I do hope you are enjoying it here." Norbert says, pulling out his many makeup brushes and beauty products.

"Oh yes sir! Everyone has been treating me well!" I grin.

"Very good!" Norbert pulls out a piece of paper with variations of makeup looks, "Now, my dear, what look are you going for? Nude, model, celebrity, severe, or business-like?" he asks, gesturing to the different styles on the page.

"Do you have a style that would be fit for a princess?" I ask. Like I said, why not?

"Certainly, darling." he says, and pulls out a separate sheet of paper. "Does this work?"

I look it over, from the very light shading above the eyes, to the tiny jewels stuck to the very edges of the eyes, "Absolutely!"

Norbert goes straight to work.

After many layers of makeup, Norbert holds up a mirror so I can see my new look. I nearly shout when I see my face. It is the first time I have ever seen myself look remotely beautiful. In fact, I think I could actually say I look stunning!

"Do you like it?" he asks.

My mouth moves soundlessly. I am left speechless by what I look like.

Not being able to say anything, I just nod and smile at him.

"Well, then it's finally time for you to go try on some dresses!"

I nod again. Norbert takes me back out to the front of the store and to Malcolm.

"Ah, here's the lovely young lady." Malcolm looks pleased and surprised at how different I look. "All cleaned up are we?"

"Yes, thank you. I feel so much better!"

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Now, I have gathered all of our finest clothes for you to try. Which one would you like to try first?" Malcolm asks, gesturing to the many beautiful dresses behind him.

"That one." I say, pointing at a short, strapless, blue one.

"Ah. You have good taste Madam."

Malcolm hands me the dress and sends me into a dressing room.

As lovely as the dress is, it just isn't appealing on me. It's a little too poufy for my figure and makes my legs look fat.

When I hand the dress back to Malcolm, he frowns disappointedly, and has me try on an ankle length, lavender dress with three-quarter sleeves.

It fits me well, but I hate lavender, so that isn't the one for me either.

After I try on the tenth dress, Malcolm hands me a knee length, red tea dress, with tiny jewels woven into the fabric at the chest.

I put it on and stare at myself the mirror. It's an absolute perfect fit in every way!

I step out of the dressing room, and twirl once.

"It looks fabulous on you dear." Malcolm grins, "What else would you like?"

I think about what I would need if I was ever asked out again, "Do you have any skirts and blouses?"

"But of course my lady!" Malcolm replies with a very large smile. I can tell he's enjoying this, especially since I'll be giving him quite a lot of money.

"Right this way." he says.

I must have tried on 4 dozen different outfits and I want nearly all of them, but I know I still have to get other things. So I choose 5 interchangeable outfits—including the dress—and ask Malcolm to put them on the counter.

He smiles at me, "Well, Madam, there is something you are forgetting."

"What is that?" I turn to face Malcolm.

"You still need some accessories to go with those outfits! You would look quite peculiar if you went to your lunch without some proper shoes or a bag now wouldn't you?"

I chuckle, "Of course!" The large smile that has already been on my face grows even wider. This day just keeps getting better and better.

After trying tons of shoes, purses, hair bows, and jewelry, I am finally presentable for lunch with Bruce along with some extra clothes for other occasions.

"Are you ready to check out now dear?" Malcolm asks.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure."

"Alright." He says, his voice going up a little at the end of the word, "And your total is $14,819.93."

"Oh wow…" I mutter under my breath.

When I walk out of the store, Bartus is not the one waiting for me. In his place is a pale yellow cat with dark rings around her back, staring off at the sky.

"Hello Lotus. Where'd Barty go?"

Lotus's attention jolts back to earth when she hears my voice. "Oh, he went home ages ago. He told me to come wait for you after a couple hours so I could take you to the Café Le Petit Luxurieux."

"Oh… How long was I in there?"

"About 6 hours." Lotus says, as if it's nothing.

"Okaay! Wow. Then I need to head over to the café right now!"

Just before I reach the café, I call out to a few strays and have them carry my bags and follow Lotus back to the den.

Bruce is waiting at the door of the café, just as promised. "You came!" He says, sounding completely astonished.

"You thought I wouldn't?"

"No… Most girls I've met usually don't when I've asked them."

I frown, "I wonder why they would do that. I mean, you seem like a fairly nice guy."

Bruce's cheeks turn an ever-so-slight shade of pink, "I guess I just haven't met that many nice girls."

Now I'm the one who's blushing, "…Well, are you going to take me in? I'm kind of hungry you know." I grin.

Bruce laughs "Right! Sorry…" he opens the door for me, "You look amazing by the way, I love your hair."

I blush even more; no one has ever complimented me before, not really even Bartus. "I never got a chance to thank you yesterday." I say as we walk towards the Host Station.

"Selina, you don't need to thank me. I knew you needed help, and it was no trouble."

"Well thanks anyways." I smile. Knew I needed help? Between already having a bank account set up for me already, and these comments, this Bruce guy seems to not only know a lot more about me than I know about him, but also like he's been watching my every move. I don't say this in case I'm wrong, but I do wonder if he's been watching me or something.

I stay silent as the hostess takes us to our reserved table, and once we sit down, I find myself staring at Bruce.

"Something wrong?" he asks.

I break out of my daze, "Huh…? Wha?... Uh, no. Sorry, just thinking."

"Aboouut?" he asks, looking back into my eyes.

I pause. Should I voice my suspicions? No,…not here. I don't want to spoil the mood… I guess.

When our waiter comes back to give us our drinks, Bruce immediately hands him both of our menus and just says "The usual, but for two." without letting me have any say in the matter.

I smirk, planning to make a joke out of this, "So you invite me out for lunch via a note, and then don't let me order my own food? Sounds like trap to me." I chuckle.

Bruce laughs—he has such a nice laugh—and sets his hand on the table,…awfully close to my hand…

"Trust me, you'll like this. It's a favorite of mine, and was also my mother's favorite.

"Was?" I ask.

Bruce looks down, "Yes. Both of my parents are,…gone."

My eyes widen, "G-gone? You mean,…dead?" I ask, almost whispering the last word.

Bruce inhales deeply.

I put my hands over my mouth, "Oh my god… I am so sorry. I had no idea." Suddenly, I remember how I know Bruce. Memories start flooding into my head. Clippings of articles bearing the words 'THOMAS AND MARTHA WAYNE MURDERED', or 'WAYNE FAMILY TRAGEDY.' I had just arrived at Sprang Hall when the story hit the news. All of the older kids talked about poor Bruce Wayne, who watched his parents bleed and die in front of him at only 8 years old. I still don't know the full story, but I can remember me comparing myself to 'that Wayne' boy.

"I—I remember that now…" I say, impulsively putting my hand on his to comfort him, "I was only six when it happened, but everything is coming back to me… I'm so so sorry."

Bruce subtly turns over his hand and squeezes mine, sending butterflies chasing through my stomach, "It's alright, Selina."

I want to say more to him about the matter, but before I do, the waiter comes back with a basket of bread, two small salads, and a plate of crackers topped with assorted, fancy dips, meats, and cheeses.

Bruce releases my hand and the butterflies disappear. "This it?" I ask, staring down at the food.

Bruce chuckles, "No, no, this is just the appetizer."

I raise an eyebrow, "What is with you posh people and having multiple courses off food? Can't everything just be brought out at the same time so you can eat what you want?"

This comment makes Bruce crack up. "It's not just us 'posh' people, all restaurants serve the food in courses. Haven't you even been to a restaurant before?"

Truthfully, once, but being the dumpy place it was, it doesn't count. "No." I say, taking a bite of salad.

"That would explain it." he laughs.

"Hardy har har." I stab my fork into my salad again, a smile peeking through my frown.

Bruce picks up a cracker topped with smoked tuna and absentmindedly starts a sentence. "So, how are your ca—" he immediately stops, his eyes wide as he realized what he was saying.

I frown. Was he just about to ask what I think he was about to ask?

"My what?"

"Erm…" he mumbles, and quickly pops the cracker into his mouth.

He was, wasn't he…?

"Okay, time to fess up Brucey boy. How much do you know about me, why are you treating me like an old friend, how do you know me, and why did you ask me here in the first place?" I scowl.

"Er, can we not talk about this here?" he asks, keeping his head down, his eyes focused on his salad.

"Why? What's the problem?" I ask, frowning. Who the heck did he think he was? Better yet, why am I even sticking around? If he is what I suspect he is, I should have left ages ago.

"This is not the best place to talk about this… can we just wait until we're finished eating?'

I don't know what's keeping me here, but I say "Fine." Without another word.

The only time we say anything again is when our main course arrives and I ask what it is. "French Onion soup and a smoked salmon croissant." He says briefly.

I love both immensely from the moment I taste them, but I'm too irritated to say that.

Bruce pays the check silently and we leave, not a word spoken as we walk out the doors.

A black limousine is waiting for us at the curb, a chauffeur holding the rear door open. "What's the car for?" I say monotonously.

"You want me to explain, don't you?"

I cross my arms, "Uh huh."

"Then get in. You have a lot of listening to do."