Crave
It was evening, and Brigid was hovering by the lobby windows, peering outside. Her hair was wrapped in a simple bun, the elegant gold strands of her earrings made her peasant style black dress seem more elegant than casual. It was off the shoulder, with tapered long sleeves, though it was cut shorter than most formal dresses, and only came down to her shins. A single gold ring, one of the only things she had ever gotten from her father, glittered on her thumb in the dull fluorescent light as she pressed her hand to the glass, squinting at the cars driving down the street. She had opted not to wear her glasses, which made it difficult to see through the mists rising up from the gutters on the street.
Wouldn't it be funny if this was some joke, she thought suddenly. She wasn't sure if it was something he would do. I'd hope not anyway, but then all she could picture were those cruel bright eyes. Feeling the world tilt around her as that familiar unsettling feeling she had weeks ago learned to associate with Dr. Crane crept up her spine; she picked through her small clutch, making sure the business cards Maria had given her were there.
A quick rapping sound made her head jerk up. Dr. Crane was at the door, ducking down slightly so he could try to see inside. Brigid quickly made her way outside, glancing briefly at the snoring attendant. It was colder out than it had been the past few days, and Brigid regretted not bringing a coat. They climbed into the backseat of the car quickly, to Brigid's surprise. She hadn't thought Crane actually had drivers, the car definitely wasn't a commercial taxi, but she hid it well as she turned to grab the seat belt.
"From what I understand, when we get there there's going to be a sign in sheet for guests to list the information for their charity. I don't expect we'll be there very long," He said dryly.
Brigid's eyebrows raised in polite surprise, "Geez, not much of a social butterfly are you?" She remarked, looking out the window to watch the city lights stream past.
"And you are?" He scoffed.
Brigid sighed internally, of course I should have expected this, changing from hot to cold is really just par for the course with him, isn't it?
"Apparently jokes are off-limits now," She said under her breath, before resuming her normal volume, "Well, I don't really mind either way. You didn't have to pick me up, and I don't have to leave with you, if that's more convenient. This is basically a work outing, I don't really see that it would matter much if I showed up with you or not."
Dr. Crane sighed quietly, smiling and said, "My apologies." His voice held a suppressed laugh, "Spending a night surrounded by corporate executives and politicians doesn't exactly sound thrilling."
Brigid smiled sympathetically, "Understandable," She rubbed her hands together to warm them, even though the car was warm they were still freezing. It was rather idiotic, but she felt more stable, more in control now that she had been able to verbalize her concerns that this could be an unprofessional outing; which was something she would not abide. She doubted Dr. Crane thought much about anything other than his work, but even still it was best they both were on the same page.
Clearing her throat, she changed the subject. "I've seen some stuff on the news about Mr. Wayne; and I almost didn't come. He seems..." She paused, trying to find the right word, "He seems pretty eccentric."
He turned slightly towards her, brows raised. "Are you asking me for an official diagnosis Ms. Grey?"
Brigid returned his look with an expression of someone who's just learned a secret, "Ah, so that's why you're here. You're here to stage some intervention for Mr. Wayne?" Smiling, she went on, "Or are you going to be his new doctor?"
Crane's queer tight smile stretched across his face, "I'd have to commit myself to my own asylum; if that was the case. The nepotism I'd have to deal with would literally drive me insane."
The car started to slow down, as ahead of them cars were pulling off to let people out. Looking up through the window, Brigid saw Wayne Enterprises blazing painfully bright in the darkness. After they pulled up, she stepped out of the car into the yellow corridor of light coming from inside. The chauffeur, or whatever he was, was clothed smartly in a dark uniform fitted for the winter months. He confirmed her, and Dr. Crane's names, and then informed them of the directions to the top floor where the event was being hosted.
They spotted the elevator, and Brigid got a strange sense of deja vu. She was so used to riding in the Arkham elevators with Crane, that it struck her as almost funny she was doing the same thing they usually did; just in a nicer setting. The elevator 'dinged' and they stepped out into a well lit grand hallway, lined with glossy marble floors, leading to a pair of open double doors leading into the event area. As they approached, she saw a long table was stretched out with the sign in sheet and pens. Brigid stepped up to it, and quickly scribbled out the information Maggie had put on the card, while Dr. Crane hovered near her elbow.
It was crowded already, people were chatting amongst themselves, their conversation blurring into a hum. A golden light reflected off the polished floors, casting an ethereal glow that filled the room. Crane was peering around patiently, though Brigid thought he looked as if he was barely containing the urge to sneer. They stepped away from the table, walking close together to get out of the path of incoming guests. She wished she had pressed Crane for more details about what the event was going to entail; and exactly when they could leave, because now she felt uncomfortable in the strange setting.
She turned to ask Crane if there was anything in particular they needed to do; or if they were just supposed to loiter around, when she realized he was no longer standing next to her. Glancing around, she couldn't find him anywhere in fact. A few feet away, there was a banquet table lined neatly with flutes of champagne. Smartly dressed wait staff were expertly swapping empty trays with full trays, weaving between guests to deliver drinks. Brigid looked around again, just in case she had just missed Crane, and after failing again to find him, she walked over to the table.
One of the catering employees looked up at her surprised. "Can I help you miss?"
Brigid cleared her throat, smiling. "Well, really I'm just feeling a bit lost. Is it alright if I stand here?" The employee stared at her, obviously confused. Brigid tried again, "To be honest with you; I don't really have much in common with these people," she gestured around to the guests.
The woman returned her smile, understanding. "Oh, of course. I was a waitress at a diner before I got this job, and I still feel out of place. Would you like anything to drink?"
"Oh, no thank you."
Crave
Jonathan glanced around the dark hallway, checking to be sure he hadn't been followed. It had been nothing less than a stroke of genius, bringing Brigid with him. Everything had gone perfectly- she took the bait, hook, line and sinker. She really thought he had brought her along for her benefit, when in reality, it was quite the opposite. He had no official reason to be here, but Ms. Grey unknowingly provided the perfect cover for him to come. If anyone checked the guest list, they would find her name, and a plus one. No evidence that he'd been here at all.
Once Dr. Crane had gotten into the event, it had been easy to lose Brigid in the crowd and slip back out unnoticed. Now, he could focus on his actual objective unimpeded. There were a few employees at Wayne Industries that had a particular love for gambling- though like most people with that particular condition; they weren't very good at it. Once they had exhausted all of the conventional loans they could get from banks, they started to get unconventional ones from Falcone. Those people had been the ones that had looped the security feed throughout the building before they had left work that afternoon; got Ms. Grey on the guest list, and most importantly made sure the right office doors were left unlocked.
He moved quickly through the halls, cleverly using the stairs instead of the elevator, constantly alert for anyone that might see him. Once he got two floors away from the event, the hallways became dark, and silent. As far as he could tell, there weren't even any janitors left. At last, he found the door he had been searching for. Engraved letters on a shining gold plaque next to the sleek door read: Mr. William Earle, Suite 1503. Jonathan tested the door, and finding it unlocked slipped inside the office. Keeping alert for any noise, he silently crept to the computer on the desk.
Wayne Industries in recent years, had been trying to restructure itself into a special type of munitions based company. They had succeeded on that front, manufacturing various products that were now invaluable to the military. What Dr. Crane was looking for now, as he quickly navigated through the files on Mr. Earle's computer was a list of the technology that hadn't been sold. Prototypes that were impractical- to the army at least.
Scanning through list after list, his eyes landed on something of interest. Microwave-Emitter. He tapped quickly on the keyboard, finding the specifications of the device. This was what he had been looking for, and after getting the address where it was currently being stored, he shut down the computer and stood up. A sly smile spread across his face. Falcone had been suspicious when Crane had asked him to set this up, and had tried to get more information about what kind of weapon they were getting. Jonathan knew Falcone was a snake, he was already planning on trying to use this to widen his own sphere of influence outside of Gotham.
Oh, how the mighty will fall, he chuckled internally. He picked up his list, he had been sure to jot down other potential weapons as well, folded it neatly and slipped it into his pocket. Moving more quickly now, he retraced his steps, taking care as he neared the top floor to avoid tipsy guests that had taken to wandering off. There were considerably more people here now than there was earlier, and that made it easy for him to slip back in unnoticed. Weaving in between guests, he grabbed a flute of champagne to ensure he would appear to fit in with the other guests. He paused for a moment once he had reached the center of the room to take in his surroundings. The satisfaction from successfully stealing made him feel especially elated, and that feeling carried over as he watched people dressed in finery. Their voices, laughing, hammered into his skull as he pictured them all, in just a short few weeks, tearing each other apart. All their money and power and finery would be forgotten in a single breath.
Jonathan heard Brigid's voice, the crystal clear sweet tone of her laughter carrying over the cacophony. When he found her, she was standing with Ms. Dawes and Mr. Wayne, to his great irritation, and seemed to be embroiled in conversation with them. He knew that he should not interrupt, that if he was careful enough he could stand close by and eavesdrop on their conversation. But the overwhelming urge to control the situation, find out what or who they were talking about overrode his logic. Since becoming assistant to the District Attorney, Ms. Dawes had made it apparent she personally disliked him, and he didn't have to guess what kind of theories about Arkham she was trying to fill Ms. Grey's head with.
Brigid's large dark eyes locked with his as he approached, her falsely polite smile curved up her face. Ms. Dawes scowled, though Mr. Wayne looked pleasant despite the change in his friend's attitude. He could tell from Brigid's body language, that regardless of her pleasant smile, she wasn't happy to see him.
"Dr. Crane, you're just in time. We were just talking about this, uh, vigilante?" Brigid said, looking pointedly at Ms. Dawes. Ms. Dawes managed to force a tight smile, though her gaze remained sharp and focused.
"I've heard he's called the bat-man? It's a ridiculous name. I trust the Gotham P.D will catch him soon," Mr. Wayne offered helpfully, gesturing towards Ms. Dawes with his champagne glass.
"It's only a matter of time. It's sad that the city has reached a point that someone really feels it's necessary to put their life at risk, to do what we should have already been doing." Ms. Dawes replied, sipped some champagne and shooting an acidic look at Crane. As if it was his fault the police department had been corrupt for decades.
"The sad thing is, if I'm remembering this right, usually vigilantes are hard to pin down. Overall they don't come from a specific career, though they most likely could work in a job where they feel rules are being broken. It's only in rare cases that their behavior escalates outside their personal life into the public." Brigid supplied, "Though historically vigilantes usually operate in groups."
"That's correct." Crane said evenly. "It could be anyone. Even a police officer." The look Ms. Dawes gave him wasn't missed by Brigid, whose smile flickered briefly in the face of this new aggression between himself and Ms. Dawes.
Mr. Wayne swirled around his champagne thoughtfully, seemingly oblivious to the change in atmosphere. "It would make sense if they did turn out to be a police officer, doesn't it? Though you're right, it could be anyone that just felt they needed to take the law into their own hands."
Dr. Crane stood closer to Brigid, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder, his smile becoming dangerously close to a sneer as he address Ms. Dawes directly. "Well, thankfully we have people like you and Ms. Grey in Gotham," Brigid's exposed shoulder was warm and soft under his fingers.
Ms. Grey finally seemed notice his squeezing hand on her shoulder taking his hint that he wanted to leave, and turning away from him slightly she said, "Thank you again Ms. Dawes, and Mr. Wayne. What you've done is really going to help so many kids- you have no idea how grateful I am."
Mr. Wayne waved his hand, smiling modestly and even Ms. Dawes managed a genuine smile as well, "Think nothing of it. It's the least I can do,"
As Brigid said their goodbyes, Jonathan couldn't help thinking a bit spitefully that it hadn't taken her long at all to charm them. But then again, of course they'd fall for her fake smiles and overbearing polite way of speaking. He could tell though, the way that Ms. Dawes spoke to her, their casual demeanor towards each other, this certainly wasn't the first time they had met. Walking away, he started to wonder exactly what Brigid had been doing with her free time. If she had been investigating more than she let on. The trouble was, she was very good at hiding things, very good at lying. If he hadn't seen those records for himself; he would have never known how good she really was at hiding things. Even her dress tonight, no guest he could see was suspicious that she wasn't one of them; it was so perfectly unassuming. The tapered seams at the edge of her sleeves made sure that if she moved her sleeves wouldn't slip back no one would see any scars.
Brigid eventually detached herself from his grip after they had gotten far enough away, mildly annoyed asked, "I'm assuming you would like to leave?"
"Hmm. I suppose so," He answered nonchalantly. Dr. Crane could tell she was getting uncomfortable around him, her arms where crossed and her knuckles were white. Her face though, steadfastly retained its passive expression.
"Got lost on your way to the bathroom, did you?" She asked pleasantly, as they made their way outside to wait for the car. He didn't answer her until after one of the doormen handed him back his coat.
"Yes. It's a big building, easy to get lost," He explained watching her shivering in the cold damp air. Dr. Crane didn't particularly care if she believed him or not. Even if she had been poking around more than he had initially guessed it didn't matter; only he and Mr. Ducard knew what his plans were tonight. He was starting to imagine what would happen if he pushed her. Put some cracks in her perfect armor, and see what was really underneath. They both climbed in the car once it approached, avoiding the rain as much as possible.
"I would ask if you had a good time, but it seems pretty pointless." She said, staring out the window. The light played off her skin, and not for the first time this evening, he found himself getting caught up staring at her, how her skin looked in the patchy city light. Her dark hair twisted up, the way the golden light caught like sparks in her eyes.
"Did you?" Jonathan looked out the window himself and trying to regain his focus. He didn't like the familiar feeling creeping under his skin; he had kept it under control these past few weeks. It was the feeling that had caused all that trouble back in high school; the same one that forced him to leave his position at Arkham University. One of the few dangerous things that he couldn't quiet rationalize, couldn't quite control.
"Well, it turns out Mr. Wayne is quite the philanthropist. Not only did he make a donation, he started talking about building a children's home as well." Then she smiled, "Though I'll admit, I did watch him drink at least five glasses of champagne just in the time we were talking,"
"Upper class people love to feel productive don't they?" He replied with a sardonic smirk. "It must feel nice, throwing money at something so they can live in their overpriced penthouses and avoid feeling guilty."
Brigid gave him a piercing look from the corner of her eye, frowning slightly. "Bold words for someone that wasn't respectful enough to even try to make an appearance." Before Crane could reply, she continued. "If you weren't planning on being there, what was the point of even going? I'd have thought finishing the construction on the basement would be something important."
Thankfully, years of repressing his emotion kept him from showing his surprise. She must have assumed that, because he had told her that the basement was unsafe and in repair, he had gone tonight to get donations for Arkham. "I had actually settled donations from our benefactors before tonight." Jonathan answered coolly, gauging her reaction. Her eyes sparkled, like she was thinking about deciding whether or not she believed him; but her face itself held no outward suspicion, and she didn't feel the need to comment any further. Ms. Grey's curiosity towards the basement, however, was not lost on him. A dark idea broke into his thoughts, he could of course, turn the tables on her.
As they climbed out of the car, she politely conceded to let him walk with her to the door of the building, though he could tell she wasn't pleased. She turned toward him, with one hand on the door handle, and forced an awkward smile.
"Well, thanks anyway for inviting me. I feel like now, they really have a chance." Brigid was authentically grateful.
Dr. Crane gave her a wide, indulgent smile. He leaned down towards her, grabbing the wrist that was on the door. He was so close to her now, he could count her eyelashes, feel her warm breath in the cold air. His thumb slipped under the seam of her sleeve, pressing into the rough flesh tearing across the smooth skin of her forearm. Her eyes widened a fraction, and she became so still, he wondered if she was holding her breath. "My pleasure. Have a nice night Ms. Grey."
He released her wrist, trying to contain the sense of triumph blooming in his chest. She rubbed her arm unconsciously where he had touched her, and watched him warily until he left. Long into the night, her shocked, outraged face burned in his thoughts. Moves and countermoves.
Crave
Once she saw Crane leave, Brigid rushed up to her apartment as quickly as she could. She shifted restlessly from foot to foot in the elevator, her heart was beating so quickly. There wasn't a time in her life, she could remember ever feeling so unsettled, so absolutely out of balance. Her arm felt cold from where he had touched it, the gesture itself felt more intimate than it had any right to. She had the feeling that Dr. Crane had enjoyed her discomfort; those pale eyes shining down at her, too close. She had no doubt that he had felt the scar, but had he known it was there? It was so cold in Gotham, she'd only ever been in long sleeves.
If he didn't know, and there was no way he could know, why had he touched her like that? Shakily, she put her key in the lock, bursting inside and locking the door behind her. Brigid sat down on the couch, foregoing the coffee mug and grabbing the bottle of wine to try to settle herself. Her nerves still felt frayed; but now at least her hands weren't shaking. Pulling off her shoes and other clothes, she pulled a blanket around herself and reflected on what had happened.
Dr. Crane had appeared out of nowhere. They were discussing the vigilante, which Brigid had been unaware of; I really have to make a habit of watching the news more often, she thought. When he had grasped her shoulder, she had noticed his hands were rough, very calloused, and it was only by extreme force of will that she didn't jump out of her skin. They hadn't really been on terms familiar enough for her to be comfortable with it in the first place, but what really agitated her was that he used the action to show he was drawing an unseen line in the sand. With her and Dr. Crane on one side, and Ms. Dawes on the other.
She took another sip of wine, the bottle noticeably more empty now. Brigid could still feel the warmth Dr. Crane's breath had left on her cheek. If she hadn't been so surprised, she could have pulled back, away from that cold gaze. The look he levied on her was like snow; so cold that it burned.
She set the wine bottle on the table, and curled into the couch. Closing her eyes, it took her a long time to fall into a fitful sleep.