Author's note: While obviously not the best chapter I've ever written...it did successfully distract me from the real world insanity of the day. Perhaps it can do the same for you, perhaps not, but either way...happy Hunger Games!
Anthony adjusted his tie one last time before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door.
I got this.
"Hey…" he smiled when Karen opened the door, trailing off when he got a more complete look at her short, yellow dress. "You look fantastic…Summer personified." He amended.
She smirked, arching an eyebrow. "Those for me?"
"Oh—yes," he suddenly remembered the potted lilies he was holding and offered them to her.
She took them, studying them closely as she did. "You know…I think usually guys just get like a bouquet or something."
"Well sure, but then what?" Anthony prompted. "You just throw them out after a few days? As long as you water them, these guys will keep you company for a while." He smiled.
"Why lilies?" She asked.
He shrugged, "they just spoke to me."
"Alright," Karen chuckled. "Um—do you want to come in for a bit?"
Yes.
No.
Anthony glanced down at his watch. "I think we should probably get going. I'd rather not miss our reservation."
"Reservation?" Karen asked, looking mildly impressed. "I sort of thought it would be a food cart kind of evening."
He gave her a pointed look over, grinning as he did. "A bit over-dressed for tacos, now aren't you?" and then, before she could feel self-conscious he continued with: "I certainly am," he gestured down to his steel blue three-piece suit.
"Yeah, Jesus, I was about to ask if you were hot," Karen looked worried for a moment.
"Mmm…I usually let women decide that for themselves," he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"
Karen snorted at that, calling out "That was cheap!" as she quickly disappeared inside to set the flowers down on the counter before rejoining him in the hallway. "And I think I can make it to the elevator just fine on my own, thanks."
/
"Holy shit!" Jo spun around, admiring herself. "I look so fricken hot!"
"OK," Bruce narrowed his eyes. "But you understand that's not the point of it, yes?"
"Well sure," Jo giggled. "But…it's definitely a perk!" She jumped up into the air to kick and then landed in a pirouette. "What'cha think, Ma?"
Harley sighed. "I think you look…older."
"Yeah, but do I look like a badass?" Jo wanted to know, watching Harley expectantly through the slits of her cowl."
Harley jutted her jaw to the side, narrowing her eyes slightly and tilting her head. "Mmm...yeah, total badass," her smile was wide and proud.
"The technology is similar to what I came up with for Ivy's first suit, before her mutation. These," Bruce indicated the glowing green panels that ran from Jolene's wrist, down the underside of her arms and sides, joining around the waist and then continuing down her thighs until they tapered off at the knee. "—contain patented solar technology. While you don't actually have any control over plant life, I've been informed that sunlight does aid your body's naturally accelerated healing mechanisms. This suit will help amplify those abilities."
"Ha! Respawn!" Jo exclaimed excitedly. "You really went above and beyond, Uncle Bruce. Seriously. This thing is awesome."
"Well we'll see if it holds up tonight," He said. "It's been more difficult to budget our manpower since Barbara left, but I'd like you with Damian for your first outing."
"You got it, boss," Jo saluted him.
/
"Please don't tell me you bought that suit just for me," Karen said once they were seated at their table.
"What?" Anthony chuckled. "A man can't own a nice suit?"
"Well, now I'm curious," she sat back, amused. "The clothes, and the restaurant, and the car you drove us over here in…what do your parents do? Or are they dead and you're living off the inheritance?"
"Actually…" he took a sip of his water, wishing with every fiber of his being he didn't have to spin this BS cover story again. "Only one of them is dead, so, I guess that counts?" He paused when he saw the waiter approaching, catching a glimpse of Karen's deeply apologetic expression.
"Good evening," the man smiled. "Have you had a chance to look over our wine list yet?"
"We'll take a bottle of whatever the lady would like," Anthony informed him.
After a moment's deliberation, Karen looked up at the waiter to say, simply: "Something red," before smiling politely at him, implying in the kindest way possible that he should leave them alone for a bit. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea…" She turned her attention back to Anthony once the waiter was out of earshot. "When you said you didn't have a father I just assumed—,"
"—oh, no, I never had one of those," He assured her. "My parents are gay—well, OK, my Ma is bi and my biological Mother was gay—I think—if we want to get technical, as is my stepmother." Karen's brow was furrowed in confusion and Anthony could tell he was talking a bit fast. Fuck. "I was raised by two women, is my point. Sorry for the run around."
"Got it," Karen nodded slowly, "Sounds a bit…complicated."
"Not really, no. I was only 6 when Mom died, Ma remarried quickly…but you don't care about all that, I'm just here to help you forget about your ex-husband." Anthony reminded her.
"Well you're buying me dinner, you dressed up…" Karen cleared her throat, her gaze moving to her lap. "Thought I'd at least get the basics down."
Anthony shifted in his chair, his stomach turning at the realization that he'd made her uncomfortable. "Ma is a psychiatrist and best-selling author," he offered up the information as consolation. "And my step-mother has her PhD in botanical engineering. Both are retired now, but yes—my PhD is paid for."
"Oh," Karen sounded a bit more interested now, once again smiling politely at the waiter as he filled her glass with wine and then exited the scene. "They sound fascinating," she took a sip before setting her glass down and clearing her throat. "OK, I'm just going to level with you here—I haven't been on a date since my divorce and my ex-husband and I met in High School, so…to say I'm rusty is an insane understatement."
"That's perfectly alright," Anthony laughed, relieved he wasn't the only one that felt they could improve here. "What was he like?"
"Who?"
"Your ex-husband."
"Oh, right," Karen took another sip of wine. "Mal is…a man of principal."
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "That all?"
"All I want to share right now, yeah." She answered, curtly.
/
"So we just…what? Drive around until we spot trouble?"
Damian rolled his eyes beneath his cowl. "This isn't the Mystery Gang, Jolene. We patrol while Carrie sits at the monitor back at the cave."
"Got it," Jo nodded ardently. "So, if Carrie spots trouble, she points us in the right direction."
"Will you stop saying 'spots trouble'? It sounds ridiculous."
"Sorta like dressing up like a bat and jumping off buildings, huh?" Jo snickered.
"I'm sorry, are you blind?" he pulled down the visor in front of her and poked his finger into the bat-symbol on her chest.
"Yeesh, alright, you're sensitive, I get it," she pushed his hand away. "Want to make daddy proud and whatnot."
"I don't do this for Bruce!" he caviled.
"Bleh," Jo spat in mock-disgust. "Keep your daddy issues on your side of the car, please and thank you. But hey, quick question—since you're like B-man's clone or whatever, does that mean your dicks are the same size or do you still have to measure them?"
"You're pushing it, Kid," Damian said through clenched teeth. "There's a reason I work alone."
"Because your people skills are pretty weak?" Jo guessed.
Damian suddenly wrenched the wheel towards her, causing Jo's head to smack against her window thanks to the abrupt change in direction.
"Hey!" Jo complained.
Damian smirked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
/
"You're kidding," Karen laughed. "Not one?"
"No, I swear!" Anthony stabbed at his salad. "The only teams I was on were the mathletes and the debate team."
"Then what are you, into CrossFit or something?" she cut into her steak. "Or, Parkour, maybe? A trampoline-er?"
Anthony laughed. "Is that a thing?"
"Oh, it's totally a thing," Karen assured him. "You must not be a California boy."
He finished chewing quickly. "No, I'm from Gotham, actually. Born and raised. But I was lucky enough to be exempt from the accent."
"I was gonna say…" she smiled, focusing on her food once more. "I was a cheerleader in high school," she divulged. "Captain of the squad, actually."
"You serious?" he was genuinely surprised. "I never would have pegged you."
"Pegged me for what?" she questioned, a slight challenge to her tone as she raised an eyebrow. "Because I sure as hell hope you weren't about to tell me cheerleading isn't a sport."
"Well…" Anthony adjusted himself, proceeding with slight caution as he tried to keep a smile at bay. "See, my Ma and sister were gymnasts, so…"
"Wait a minute," he seemed to have distracted her, "—your sister isn't Jolene Quinzel, is she?"
"Uh—yeah," Anthony smiled. "That's her."
"Anthony, oh my god!" Karen reached across the table to hold his hand, her eyes full of pity. "I thought I recognized the last name, but I had no idea! I was so sorry to hear about her diagnosis…"
Diag—fucking…goddamn it, Jo! I didn't need a pity fuck! "She's a fighter," Anthony assured her. "We're feeling optimistic."
/
"Seriously, who even robs banks anymore?" Jo whispered. "I mean—way more efficient to hack something, right? In this day and age?"
"Shut up," Damian intoned, watching through his night-vision binoculars as the would-be criminals placed a charge on the wall.
"You think they're going for the safety deposit boxes?" Jo wondered. "Cuz they won't even be able to pay off the property damage with what's behind the counter. And do banks even have safes anymore?"
Damian's jaw was clenched in annoyance. "If you continue to irritate or vex me, I will have you sent back to the cave for monitor duty."
"Ooh, but see, I've been known to be quite—,"
"—drop, now."
Jo did as she was told, dropping from her perch on the side of the building and landing in a roll before popping back up to her feet. "Hi, boys!"
The thief closest to her turned around, startled, while the one who was setting the charge sneered: "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"Well, I've got boobs and a bat-symbol, so…you wanna take a guess?"
"Batwoman…" the first one growled.
"Holy shit!" Jo nearly doubled over with laughter. "There were only two options and you still got it wrong! You must be a special kinda stupid." she wiped a tear from her eye. "Nah, Batwoman is my Mama's name. Call me Batgirl," she grinned.
"Alright, ya little smartass," the second guy pulled out a gun, aiming it for her head. "You got one'a these in that utility belt?"
"No," she sighed sadly, "But I've got a one of these…"
Damian swung into view then, kicking the gun out of his hand and pulling the other man's shirt over his eyes before punching him in the stomach a swift three times.
Jo sprinted for the gun, sliding on the ground to pick it up and then turning around, still wearing that wide grin on her face. "Now I got one'a these and one'a those! What more could a girl ask for?" she pointed the gun at the second man, freezing him in his tracks and setting Damian up for the knockout blow, which he delivered to the man's temple.
"Night," Jo giggled excitedly, rushing over to handcuff them both. "OK," she turned to Damian. "Next time you talk and I'll punch."
/
Anthony walked Karen to her door, his jacket draped over her shoulders, but she'd rather blatantly (although non-verbally) declined to hold hands, so…it was a toss-up.
She stopped just outside, looking at her feet first before glancing up at him. "I—I enjoyed myself more than I thought I would."
"Wow, is that Shakespeare? Such poetry..." Anthony's words were teasing but his eyes were soft, his smile kind.
"Yeah, uh, Sonnet 18, right?"
"Hmm…" Anthony tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, thou art more lovely and more temperate. I enjoyed myself more than I thought I would…yeah," he decided. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
Karen shook her head with something Anthony was hoping approached affection as she unlocked the door. She seemed confused when she pushed it open and he took a step back. "Aren't you coming in?"
Well, Mom told me to be clear in my intentions… "If you insist," he smiled, moving past her into the apartment.
Karen shut the door behind them, setting her keys down on the counter and flicking on a light switch, illuminating what Anthony thought was better described as a 'loft' than an apartment.
"Wow…" he whistled, walking towards the large picture window that overlooked the San Francisco bay. "That's…quite the view."
"Mhm…" she acknowledged, and he could hear the smile on her lips. "Makes the 40-minute commute worth it. You want a drink?"
Alcohol doesn't really affect me. "No, I think I'm good. You go ahead, though." He turned around to watch her, but she headed for the couch rather than the kitchen, stripping his jacket off and setting it down beside her.
"The wine was plenty for me," she told him.
He nodded, his eyes drifting from her momentarily before landing on a piano that he'd missed while he was distracted by the view. Clutch! "Is that a piano?" he asked, nodding towards it.
"Is that a rhetorical question?" she chuckled.
He smirked, approaching it. "You mind if I…"
"Nope, be my guest." She sighed, sitting back into the couch cushions, crossing one leg over the other. "You play?"
"I dabble," he said nonchalantly, sitting down on the bench. "Do you?"
"No, not really." She answered. "That was already here when I moved in and nobody came to pick it up, so…I thought maybe I'd learn someday."
"Mmm…" Anthony smiled to himself, cracking his knuckles before spreading his fingers out on the keys. He elected to start with a personal favorite: Chopin- Nocturne op. 9 no. 2. Beautiful, romantic—haunting, even…but also approachable.
He'd only been playing for about 20 seconds when he heard Karen laugh behind him. "Just dabble, huh?"
Anthony craned his neck to look at her, but continued to play, shrugging as he said "I do my best."
"Uh huh…" she was unconvinced. "So that's your big move? You hope the girl has a piano so you can exceed her wildest expectations with some Chopin? What happens if she doesn't have a piano?"
Anthony laughed, turning his focus back to the keys. "I sing—but it's always nicer when the two go together."
"Yeah, I'm sure." Karen got up, coming around to stand on the other side of the instrument so that they were speaking face-to-face. "So what's your go-to?" she asked. "What's your song? With those suits and that golden boy smile it's probably something classic, right? Wow them with a little depth? Sinatra? Elvis, maybe?"
Am I that transparent? The look on her face was telling him he most definitely was. Fine, we'll go the other route. He quickly changed the key, moving on to a new song.
"What are you doing?" she asked, likely beginning to recognize what he was playing.
"Well…if you're not going to take me seriously, I'm not going to take myself seriously either." He decided, and then began to sing: "Close your eyes, make a wish / and blow out the candlelight…"
Karen arched her brow. "You're kidding."
Anthony just shook his head, trying his very best to keep a straight face. "For tonight is just your night / we're gonna celebrate, all through the night…"
"Oh my God," she covered her eyes. "This isn't happening."
"Pour the wine, light the fire / girl your wish is my command…"
"Stop it," she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
"I submit to your demands / I will do anything, girl you need only ask,"
"You are not about to—,"
"I'll make love to you!" Anthony stood up from the bench. "Like you want me to! And I'll hold you tight! Baby, all through the night—,"
Karen couldn't even look at him she was laughing so hard.
"I'll make love to you! Like you want me to! And I will not let go til' you tell me to…"
"God…" she buried her face in her hands.
"What?" Anthony laughed, quieting his playing. "Too much?"
Karen was trying to pull herself together. "Well, having a white boy serenade me with Boys II Men certainly wasn't something on my bucket list…"
"Oh, alright, alright," he stopped, grinning. "Point taken. I'll—uh, I'll try something a little whiter." He sat back down on the bench and tried again, performing a short riff before beginning. "I feel like I've been locked up tight for a century of lonely nights…"
"No," Karen shook her head, clearly in denial. "No."
"Waiting for someone…to release me," he continued despite her protests, rolling his upper body and winking. "You're lickin' your lips and blowing kisses my way / but that don't mean I'm gonna give it away / baby baby baby…"
"Why?!"
"Ooh, my body's saying let's go / ooh, but my heart is saying no!"
"Why are there piano chords to this?!"
"If you wanna be with me, baby there's a price to pay / I'm a genie in a bottle / you gotta rub me the right way—,"
"And why do you know them?" Karen demanded. "That's the more important question here."
Anthony chuckled, banging out one final note. "Remember that whole bit about growing up in a house full of women? Yeah, I wasn't kidding."
Karen covered her mouth to hide her smile. "Christina Aguilera is Latina."
"Well, fine," Anthony sighed, taking his hands away from the keys and standing up. "But if I go any whiter I think it'll have to be acapella."
"S—should I be afraid?" Karen wanted to know.
"I don't know," Anthony shrugged, unbuttoning his vest. "We'll see if you can handle it."
"Why does it seem like I'm more embarrassed then—,"
"—If I was your boyfriend I'd never let you go…"
"My God…"
"Imma take you places you ain't never been before…"
"Please—,'
"—Baby take a chance or you'll never ever know / I've got money in my hand that I'd really like to blow—,"
"I know you're not about to say 'swag'." Karen assured herself.
"Swag, swag, swag, on you—,"
"What does that even mean?"
"Chillin' by the fire while we're eatin' fondue—,"
"That's not sexy."
"I don't know about me, but I know about you/so say hello to falsetto in three, two…I'd like to be, everything you want—,"
"Jesus, no!" Karen grabbed desperately for his shirt, pulling him towards her. "Just shut up and kiss me—please!"
Anthony grinned before complying, hoisting her legs up around his waist as he walked them towards the couch.
/
"How was she?" Bruce asked once both Damian and Jolene had climbed out of the Batmobile.
"Terrible," Damian answered, pulling his cowl off. "She's a little brat and a total pain in the ass."
"Sounds familiar…" Bruce mumbled. "But I don't care about her temperament. Was she effective?"
"She's fine," Damian snapped, descending quickly down the platform steps. "Just don't put her with me anymore. I work better alone."
Jolene waved after him as he quickly exited the cave. "See ya later, Alligator!"
He flipped her off without looking back, which seemed to amuse her. "Can I be honest with you, Uncle Bruce?" she asked, turning her attention to him.
Bruce cleared his throat and nodded.
"Your son? He's sort of a punk-ass bitch." She informed him.
"Oh?" He leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms. "I heard there are times when you aren't much better."
Jo rolled her eyes. "I already apologized for that whole thing."
"Glad to hear it," Bruce granted. "I'm just saying throwing rocks might be ill-advised."
The sun was coming up now, her shift was over, Ma was waiting to bring her back home…but Jo would have given almost anything for just one more moment in her Batsuit.
"Tomorrow," she reminded herself as she pulled on her civilian clothes and closed the glass case on her suit, giving it a quick wave goodbye (which she wished she could take back as it made her feel incredibly stupid).
She unlocked her phone as she headed for the exit, checking for any notifications she missed while they were separated…there were a few emails from colleges, a bunch of 'get well' tweets aimed at her, and a facebook message from…you've gotta be fucking kidding me.
Jason Todd: You're an incredibly easy girl to track down, you know that?