Author's Note: Okay, bear with me here please. I'm mostly setting up plot and relationships. Just let me get through this day and then the real fun will start.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans or the Serra.

Chapter 4 - As Friendly Colleagues

Gar and Raven stood outside the Bloor Street exit of the Crystal, both preparing for the blistering cold outside. Gar wrapped a blue and grey stripped scarf around his neck, the tails falling to his waist. His black jacket reaching his knees. Raven wore her usual long black wool jacket, ho hat but with a magenta fluffy cashmere scarf. Gar ushered her through the first doors.

"Are you sure you don't mind walking? I mean, I'm really sorry but I usually don't rent cars in cities with transit."

"Don't worry about it. I don't drive either so I'm used to commuting," she smiled, patronizing with him. In all honesty she was glad he didn't have a car. She didn't quite know what it was but getting into cars with strange men, even the rich well-known ones, was a little nerve wracking for her. If they were walking and she found out he was a maniac, at least she'd have a chance to get away.

"Well, at least the place isn't too far. Maybe you've heard of it. It's called the Serra?"

"O yes, I've heard of it. It's quite well known."

"Great then, let's get going." He opened the door and ushered her out. A brisk gust of cold breeze rushed them as the door opened and they walked out into a sunny but cold Sunday air.

They both took of their coats and scarves as the hostess ushered them to their seats, a small two-seater table near the back, away from the prying eyes of city streets. The orange glow of the restaurant emanated calmness and a casual aura. They both sat down and threw their coats onto the backs of their chairs. Sitting down, they were greeted by a waiter handing them the lunch menus, they hadn't quite made it for brunch.

After a moment of quite contemplation of what to order, the waiter returned and took it down.

" Angel hair with sun dried tomatoes, red onions, roasted garlic and olive oil in a light tomato sauce," Gar ordered. He was a vegetarian. Once he had tried going vegan and it didn't quite work out, there's only so much tofu one man can take.

"Fettuccini with smoked chicken, woodland mushrooms and artichoke hearts in a rosé sauce, please." The waiter nodded taking down their orders and was about to walk away when Gar motioned for him to stay.

"Drinks?"

"Uhm, Coke will be fine."

Gar smirked and told the waiter, "Sprite thanks," all without taking her eyes off of Raven. A few more moments of silence passed until Gar decided to break it.

"So Miss Roth, I gotta ask you, as a historian…. Which came first, the chicken of the egg?" He leaned in, elbows on the table with a pensively serious look on his face.

Raven raised an eyebrow, "Is this your idea of small talk Mr. Logan?" The whole walk there they had both stayed silent, comfortably within the warmth of their respective scarves. But now, the conversation had started and despite herself, Raven couldn't help but be nervous.

"No, this is my idea of an ice breaker. And I told you, call me Gar. Anyways, if you had taken me seriously I really wouldn't have an answer." He leaned back on his chair, both hands on the table still. Raven took this as a sign of his openness. Most people, her included, would hide their hands underneath the table in the presence of new company. He on the other hand kept them out on the open with confidence. Well he does have something to be confident about, he has nice hands. I wonder what they'd feel like on my… Snap out of it!

Raven cleared her throat, shaking herself mentally from the thoughts, "Well, then Mr. Logan-"

"Gar."

"Um, yes, Gar, I haven't properly thanked you, on behalf of the museum, for your generosity. "

He waved a hand passively as if to swat a fly, "Oh, it was nothing."

"Nothing? This must have coast a small fortune,"

He leaned in again, elbows propped on the table, "Well if it makes you feel any better, Dick paid for most of it. I'm just doing all the work." She smiled at his logic; he had obviously seen the little tiff back at the Spirit Room. She suddenly felt confident around him; his laid back attitude had her accepting his challenge.

"Well thank you for your work then," She herself leaned in, elbows propped on the table, mirroring his posture, "How did you come across your millions anyways."

He leaned back and rested his arm across the back of his chair. His other hand rubbing his chin in pensive thought, "Hmm… My parents were scientists, chemical biologists actually. As a child I grew up in Kenya--"

"Oh? Are you fluent?"

"In Swahili, yes. Well a disease called Sakutia, the namesake for my company, was ravaging Africa at the time and my parents developed, not a cure, but something that took the pain away. Unfortunately, they both succumbed to the disease and passed away. Then 18, I came to the U.S. with the money I had inherited and started a pharmaceutical company in their name with their drug as the main product. The company hit it off well and here I am." He raised both his arms as if to show himself as he was; a final to-da to his tragic story.

"I'm sorry about your parents," Raven leaned back as well, sorry that she brought up such painful memories for the sake of conversation.

"It's fine; it was a long time ago. Almost 10 years ago, I'm over it. People die, it's the way things go. The real sin is to forget." They both sat in silence, mulling over his powerful words. This time Raven broke the silence.

"So, I've heard you've done a lot of humanitarian work."

Laughed a little and looked right in her eyes, "Yeah, I try to give back as much as I can."

Now she raised her eyebrow, "Humble are we?"

"No seriously. I don't even own a mansion. I live in a small, one bed room loft on the north side of Chicago. I guess growing up where I did you get used to living with just the necessities."

Her eyebrow stayed up. Stayed sceptical, "But you're staying at the Royal York…"

"Ahh, but see that," he leaned in on the table once again, "that was Dick's idea. He says we need to be keeping up appearances for publicity's sake. I don't even have a rental car while he's driven around on a limo. If it were up to me I'd be staying at the Holiday Inn." They both laugh. Each feeling more secure with the other.

He stayed there leaning in, head on his hands, taking in as much of her as he could, "But enough about me. This is starting to sound like an interview. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, tell me about yourself."

"I'm Raven Roth, Head Curator of the Michael Lee-Chin Crystal at the Royal Ontario Museum." She shrugged and just gave him the basic. Just because he feels like opening up doesn't mean I do.

"Hmm, interesting," he said playing along to her vagueness, "How'd you get into museum work?"

"Well, I would spend all my time here as a kid. I majored in Egyptology at York U so the ROM was the natural way to go."

"Egyptology," he asked, now seriously interested, "Wow, then this must be quite the treat for you."

"Oh yeah," she began finding the wonder in her work again, "Doing an exhibit of this magnitude has been a dream come true for me."

"Ahh… I see… So how do you know Richard?" This was it. It was the question he had been waiting to ask since he saw their little argument.

"Isn't that a little personal?" she asked, a tad uncomfortable with the idea of discussing her love life with someone who could be considered a boss, regardless of how cute he was.

"Well, this isn't exactly a business meeting."

She smirked and leaned in, meeting his challenge, "What exactly is it then?"

He smiled at her, that innocently boyish smile, "It's a friendly outing between two colleagues."

"Ah, I see."

"Yes, and as long as we're friendly colleagues… How do you know the Dick Grayson?" He said 'the' with mock astonishment, as if he were a crazy young fan girl, she had to smile at this.

"We used to date," she sighed, exasperated. She knew that he would push until he finally got it out of her.

"Used to?" That one word gave him the slightest glimmer of hope. Well I can certainly see what he saw in her.

"Yeah, I broke it off."

"Really," the exaggerated girly voice returning, "How come?"

She scoffed, "Well, do you know him?"

"Personally no, not until 3 months ago when we first started. But I've heard quite a lot." O yeah, he'd heard a lot about Richard's promiscuity. He was rumoured to be quite the playboy, with a girl in every city that he stayed at, telling each of them that they were the only one. Raven was probably his 'candy from Toronto'. Gar couldn't help but get angry at the thought.

"Yes, well, the man was an obsessive compulsive, over protective, rich pretty boy. Let's just leave it at that." He could hear the anger in her voice and decided to lighten things up a bit.

"Oh, you know rich boys aren't all bad…" He rolled his eyes and turned his head staring at her through the sides of his eyes.

"Oh no, not rich boys. Just Dick." He laughed a hearty full laugh.

"So, you said over protective huh?"

"It was like having a Pit Bull." They were both leaning in now, enjoying themselves at Dick's expense.

"But with a Jag and who brings chocolates right?"

"Precisely," they both laugh and Gar sighed.

"Well, looking at you. I think he was right to be over protective." Gar crooked his head to the right as if trying to get a better angle of her face. Raven quickly recoiled and suppressed the heat rising to her face.

Fumbling with her words, she quickly tried to change the subject, "We-well what about you? As long as we're on a personal note… Are you seeing anyone? You know, asking as a friendly colleague." He on the other hand didn't pull back; he stayed on his elbows and looked right in her eyes in a way that made her squirm. There was such brutal honesty in his feral emerald eyes.

"Well then, I must say no."

"Ha, you'd have me believe that Gar Logan: handsome millionaire doesn't have girls lining up outside his door?"

"Handsome," his eyebrows shot up hopefully, "You think I'm handsome?"

"I say that strictly as a friendly colleague."

"Oh, well then, in that case, no. I'm more of the eccentric millionaire, far to giving to be a true millionaire. I certainly don't live like one. And I'm proud to say, I'm no Dick Grayson."

She smiled, "Good to hear it."

"Est tu? Currently attached?" He prayed to God that the next word out of her mouth wasn't 'yes'.

"No." There is a God! There was bitterness in her voice, and a touch of… regret?

"Why not? Smart, beautiful woman like you?" She blushed slightly.

"No, men usually don't want workaholic, cold-hearted bitches as their girlfriends."

He raised an eyebrow at her as if she started speaking in gibberish, "Hmm, workaholic? I see ambitious, and as for your cold heart. Maybe you just need the right guy," he winked at her, "with a blowtorch."

She opened her mouth to retaliate, not realising the blush that had crept across her face, but she was cut off by a plate being placed in front of her.

Gar shook out his napkin and grinned, "Ahh, well looks like brunch is served."