For a group that that emphasized self-control, discipline, and not being predictable… the Batsies were addicted to coffee and sugar. And there were only so many good coffee joints in reasonable distance of Selina's office. In the year she'd been working for Selina, she had only three places that Selina felt worth of frequent repeat custom. There was the Coffee Cart that was always in front of Wayne Enterprises, but it didn't carry pastries, and knocked off before three. There was the Code Seven, which was twenty four seven by three-sixty-five, but while the coffee was always fresh, and anywhere from medical grade to weapons-grade… they bought their pastries from Mall-Mart. They made up for it with their pancakes and biscuits, but those were not pastries. That left Barclay's, which was the furthest away, not to mention the most expensive, in every possible way. Their pastries were scratch-made, multiple times every single day, and they were not light: Oh-My-God rich, Oh-My-God good, and Oh-My-God pricey, in both monetary and caloric cost. A dozen of their assorted cream-and-fruit-filled bismarcks was fifty dollars, and thirteen thousand calories. According to Bruce.
Genevieve and Selina could kill the box between them in one long night. No dinner needed or wanted... and Genevieve had taken up the basic combat exercises of the Batsies not because she wanted to fight bad guys, but because she wanted to fight off 'the bulge'. Dick also had her, not just running (strictly horizontal is so boring…) but doing the initial parts of parkour, and she was getting better at it. Selina just smiled and sent her out for more. And then there were the fruit muffins and cookies Alfred made every day – his oatmeal-pecan-raisin cookies were practically small tarts.
Genevieve suspected conspiracy.
And thus it was that had Genevieve waiting in line at Barclay's pastries counter to pick up her order, when she scented a familiar cologne – and turned to find herself face-to-face with Mr. Oswald Cobblepott, AKA the Penguin. Two of his Birds, Wren, and Lark, were by the doors.
As Genevieve's eyes widened, Cobblepott swept an abbreviated bow, smiling genially. "Good afternoon, Ms. Thornton! A pleasure to run into you! It's always good to see one's former staff moving up in the world - Ms. Kyle is doing well, I trust?"
Genevieve's mind raced, even as her blood pressure settled somewhat. She had, over a year ago, worked for Mr. Cobblepott at his club, the Iceberg Lounge – but as merely one of the waitresses, bringing orders to tables and so on. She had never done any 'additional tasks' for him, nor had she ever discussed anything specific about what she had seen while working there – Selina clearly held the Rogue in mild distaste. So he shouldn't have any issues to 'discuss' with her. Wren and Lark had stayed put, instead of moving to surround her or worse, 'escort' her… and Barclay's was way too obvious for any of that anyway. So this was social hour, and nothing more.
"Mr. Cobblepott, what a surprise! It's good to see you as well, sir! You're looking well, may I say?" A year ago, that would have been an untrue pleasantry, because Cobblepott had been feeling his years visibly, and there had been rampant rumors concerning his health. But he genuinely did look much better – skin color good, his expression bright and alert, and his voice was back to the clear tenor, without any hint of phlegm. "Ms. Kyle is doing very well, thank you, and I'll be sure to pass your compliments along to her!"
"Excellent, and thank you very much!" Cobblepott answered in good humor. "I believe you're up next, Miss."
Genevieve turned around, and sure enough, the staff was smilingly waiting for her. After signing for her order and receiving the goods, she stepped to the door, half expecting one of the Birds to gesture her to wait – instead, Wren held the door open for her, exactly as she would for a Member at the Lounge. Genevieve blinked involuntarily in surprise, and murmured her thanks – and Wren flashed her mercurial grin, the real one, and murmured back "Nice car, Genevieve. Good on you, and good luck!"
Lark fell into step with Genevieve, and escorted her to the Porsche, getting first the passenger door for the goods, and then the driver's door for Genevieve. Unnerved just a bit, Genevieve slid into the drivers seat, and looked up at Lark, who smiled, tipped her bowler, and stepped back. "Good luck, Mrs. Grayson!" as she closed the door.
Genevieve drove back to Wayne Enterprises with care, resolutely not thinking about the situation until she was back in the office. Selina looked up as she came in, and her face went still at Genevieve's expression. She stayed quiet as Genevieve reported, and then smiled at Genevieve.
"Penguin is a Rogue, but it wasn't so many years ago that I was too. He managed to get a message to me before the wedding, just to let me know he understood why he wasn't invited to either reception. He learned of your wedding upcoming from the newspapers – he dotes on such things - and when coincidence enabled him to talk to you, he wished you well. Nothing more, and nothing less. Lark and Wren acting as they did was likely to show they weren't there as his enforcers." Selina chuckled as she went back to her desk. "Penguin has never been as savoir-faire as he likes to think he is."

Penguin settled at his desk in his quarters, and cocked an eye at Wren. "You're wondering why that bit this afternoon, are you?"
Wren settled into the chair she usually took. "I am, sir. She didn't work here that long, nor did she ever take on any extra duties or sensitive matters."
Penguin socketed a Silk Cut into his holder and lit it. "Ms. Thornton works for Selina… who has now finally caught her man after Lord alone knows how many years. And in turn, Ms. Thornton is engaged to be married to the young Mr. Grayson. She's part of the Clan, now." He puffed thoughtfully. "It's no bad thing to have, if not friends, than former associates with whom one is on good terms with in such places, Wren. One never knows when a timely call or message might come in."
Wren snorted. "None of that lot will ever betray the Bat, sir. You know that."
"Oh, indeed I do. But he and I have a mutual interest: the continuation of our city. We've sent him a few messages over the years… Joker and his nuclear bomb comes to mind. Keeping lines open in the years to come is rarely a bad thing."

AN: This is a piece written by the lovely Lord Grise, posted with permission. I loved it, and I hope you all do, too!