As a general rule, Bruce hated spending any amount of time in the vicinity of Lex Luthor. At its best, these moments could be used to gather intel -even a man as intelligent as Luthor was prone to blab to those he thought to be his lessers, including Hapless, Affable Bruce Wayne- or plant surveillance bugs on his clothes and possessions. At its worst, it was an infuriating exercise on how long he could maintain his Public Face. Yes, underneath Luthor's superficial charisma and the carefully cultivated image he presented to charm the easily pacified public, the man was a black hole of greed and self-aggrandizing ambition. As Tim would say, Lex Luthor was every Evil Rich White Businessman stereotype rolled into one frankly embarrassing cliché.
And, yes, Bruce was more than aware of how hypocritical he was being.
"So, what have you heard about her?" Luthor asked, tapping the toe of a $3000 handmade Italian leather shoe on the private elevator carpeted floor.
"Probably as much as you," Bruce said, all false cheer and a fake, friendly smile.
Almost humorously, his statement was probably true. Bruce took great pride in his intelligence gathering but could admit that Luthor's was nearly as good. It was only the man's own hubris that kept him from knowing more. He refused to believe the great and powerful Superman would choose to live his life as the painfully ordinary Clark Kent, so he did not know. He refused to believe that friendly party-boy billionaire Bruce Wayne would spend his night solving crimes and fighting mutated crocodile-men in the sewer, so he did not know.
And that was how Bruce liked it.
"Oh, I doubt that very much," Luther said, only a hint of nasal arrogance in his voice. Then, after a moment, "She's done a very good job of avoiding the spotlight and keeping herself out of the press. Strange for a woman of her status."
Bruce nodded. That fit with the information he had, at least on the surface level. There were only a few pictures of the CEO and owner of Thousand Solutions Enterprise out there, all blurry and taken from a distance. Even her page on the company website only offered an elegant drawing of a wrench intertwined with a pink flower against a stylized sun -a more ornate version of the company's logo. If one were hoping to get a glimpse of her at any press releases, then they'd be out of luck in that regard too. They were done by someone else entirely and, if the CEO was there, she hid among the crowd remarkably well.
Needless to say, he was suspicious. After all, it wasn't every day a brand new tech company sprang out from nowhere and revolutionized the industry in a few short years with a combination of alternative fuel sources and organic technology, among other things. And it was rare that the person in charge of it all would seemingly have no use for the fame and praise that came from heading such a movement. Rarer even still was such a... clean company.
Not that all the company's legal, government, business, and financial were records were perfect, of course. No, perfection didn't occur in nature; it was an artificial construct. A company with no flaws or mistakes in its records was not a real company and would have drawn far more suspicion to any auditor or government inspector who cared to look close than one with the excepted amount of mess-ups from human error.
Batman cared to look.
"We're in for a treat then," he said.
Ping!
The doors to the private elevator slid open revealing a large, sprawling office full of bookshelves, a tasteful yet odd and eclectic collection of decorations, many potted plants, large and small, and gleaming wooden furniture lit by wide bay windows overlooking the Atlantic ocean.
'Homey,' was the first thought that came to Bruce's mind.
The office was beautiful, no doubt, but more than just being stylish, Bruce couldn't help but notice how comfortable it was. Most CEOs' offices -and Bruce had seen a great many in his lifetime- either preferred a sleek, ultra-modern design with little in the way of ornamentation or personal effects or elaborate altars to their occupant's expensive hobbies and interest. But this one... there was no showmanship to all the interests on display here, only genuine enthusiasm. If he didn't know any better, Bruce could even mistake this room for a private library.
"12:30 on the dot. I do appreciate punctuality in my visitors."
From behind a large planter of Casablanca lilies rose the tall, dark-haired figure of their host. As she peeled off a pair of pink gardening gloves and came closer, Bruce heard Luther let out a long, low whistle.
"Now that is a lot of woman," he said under his breath, eyes firmly fixed on the impressive figure before them.
Nico Franks, the CEO and owner of Thousand Solutions Enterprise, was a slightly older woman -perhaps mid-forties judging from the small lines around her eyes and mouth that gave her face far more character than it took away- but an exceptionally beautiful one with long, toned limbs, an hourglass figure, and tanned skin. Her long, inky black hair was pulled into a stylish half-updo, with the loose locks falling artfully over one shoulder. A simple jewel green wrap dress, pair of black heels, and perfectly understated make-up completed the look of a lovely, unthreatening buisness woman.
It was an interesting lie. A pleasing Face to present to the public, what little she interacted with it.
"I am Nico Franks, and it is nice to finally meet you two gentlemen," the woman said, extending an arm for a handshake. "I've read so much about you both."
"Oh no, the pleasure is all mine," Bruce said, easily slipping his own Face back on. He took her hand, shook it firmly enough to feel the woman's impressive strength and surprising callouses, and kissed the back of it.
Bruce Wayne was a playboy after all.
"It's both of our pleasure, Ms. Franks," Luthor said, taking her hand next.
'What do you see, Luthor?'
Because the first thing Bruce noticed about Nico Franks wasn't her beauty or even her impressive bust, it was her height. His trained eye put the woman at around 6'2''-same as Luthor and himself- and the heels she was wearing gave her an extra three inches, letting her tower over both of them. When Bruce looked beyond that, he saw even more. He saw the lean, solid muscle of Nico Franks' body, in addition to how each visible limb was dotted with an assortment of white, healed scars. She moved with a grace of a trained dancer... or fighter, every step and gesture was smooth and deliberate. Even the woman's choice of attire was carefully selected, not dissimilar to how Bruce chose his own; the wrap dress didn't provide must protection but it was easy to move in with a loose, layered skirt that could be used to hide any matter of weapons or devices with heels low and solid enough to run in. Finally, her smile was pleasant... and completely fake. It, like every aspect of Franks' appearance, was a vacantly pleasant mask to present to others. One even Bruce was struggling to see past.
In the back of his mind, Bruce wondered if Luthor could see that she was a lie or if he was taken by Franks' disarming beauty. In the front of his mind, he wondered if the woman could tell Bruce wasn't fooled.
"It's so nice to meet two of my most illustrious peers. It is a shame we haven't had a chance to become acquainted before," Franks said. "I follow the work of both of your companies with great interest."
"And I yours," Luthor replied. "Though, admittedly, you haven't made it easy. Your company keeps its secrets close to the chest, and you, Ms. Franks, seem to be allergic to the camera."
'That was forward, Luther. If you're not careful, she'll clam up. Or are you hoping to trip her up?'
"Fufufu. You can't blame up a new, up-and-comer for being secretive in the face of older, more established competition, can you?" Franks asked with a sweet, fake laugh. "So many of our ideas were experimental, some outright outlandish, that they needed to be kept private until they proved viable."
Yes, outlandish ideas. Bruce had been dubious when he'd started hearing of compact, reliable, and affordable devices that could do things like covert salt or polluted water into something drinkable, or manipulate the weather in the immediate vicinity. And yet, when he investigated, the skepticism was completely invalidated. Both machines proved to work exactly as advertised.
Other inventions that Thousand Solutions had turned out included a durable, powerful engine that could run on their specialized corn syrup, a skin-like polymer that could be used in the medical reconstruction of burn wounds or other disfiguring trauma, some truly fascinating new antibiotics, and guns that fired powerful yet non-lethal bursts of highly pressurized air. The last of those was so impressive that several police departments in the United States had begun experimenting with using them in place of regular firearms.
Despite his suspicions about Nico Franks and her company, Bruce approved.
"But surely you can understand the benefit in partnering with a larger company to get your products out into the world," Luthor pressed. "Secrets and individuality are important, of course, but so is success. I'll admit to being surprised you didn't reach out to form a partnership with Lex Corp-" then, after a moment, added "or a similar company in the beginning. After all, we have an established consumer base that trusts our products."
'Subtle, Lex,' Bruce thought wryly. That being said, for now, he was content to allow Luthor to lead the conversation. If Franks' attention was on him, then it gave Bruce the opportunity to more closely examine the woman's office. You could tell a lot about someone by what they keep in their personal spaces.
'Quite the scholar, I see.'
The largest bookshelf in the room housed a truly impressive amount of history, archeology, anthropology, geography, and linguistic books, in addition to volumes on buisness, patent, and finance law. Some of the titles Bruce recognized from his father's study and, having read a few himself, he could guess Franks had quite the extensive education. He also noticed that, strangely, there were no books on engineering, medical engineering, chemistry, or any of the other fields that Thousand Solutions specialized in.
Apart from the books and the obviously lovingly cared for plants, Bruce noticed that what at first appeared to be aesthetically appealing trinkets were all objects a student of history would find fascinating -a brass telescope, a sundial made of stone and gold, a gilded bronze hourglass, and much more. Little statues and eyecatching babbles were securely locked in a glass case, along with what he could recognize as the common tools of an archeologist like dental picks, trowels, brushes, and measuring tapes. Even the paintings, prints, and tapestries that hung around the rooms depicted historical sites and-
"Is that a map?" Bruce asked, though he hadn't even meant to speak.
But he couldn't help it. The massive piece of thick parchment depicting some land he'd never seen before had completely enraptured him. The delicate lines of the piece, each seemingly done by hand, were so meticulous and purposeful that he couldn't bring himself to look away. Bruce's eyes would lock on and follow one line after another, unable to look away. On the surface, it looked like a colorless version of a map from the 1500s, complete with depictions of strange sea monsters in the corners. Yet there is something beyond that. Something... fascinating and perfect.
His question cut off whatever nonsense Luthor was spewing, and brought all attention back to Bruce. Ms. Franks' lips quirked upward as she slid away from Luthor to stand beside him in front of the frame.
"Yes. Cartography and mapmaking are the passion of a dear friend of mine," she explained. With aching tenderness, Franks stroked the carved wooden frame, "This was a rough draft of her masterpiece. She said it had too many mistakes, too many imperfections and issues. But it was those very imperfections that made it precious to me. I couldn't bear to see it destroyed so I retrieved it from the rubbish bin and had it framed."
"It's beautiful," Bruce said, earning him the first truly genuine smile he'd seen from Nico Franks. Taking a closer look at the map he was able to see mistakes. Nothing that was hugely noticeable at first glance -a few lines that were shaky or drawn thicker than they should be, some smudges, and ink-stained fingerprints around the edges- but still enough that the piece couldn't qualify as technically flawless.
"The final version is even grander, I assure you. Twice the size of this one and complete without mistake; it is truly a sight to behold. For now, though, this one simply serves as my reminder of her. And, for that, I adore it all the more."
"I can only imagine. My mother would have clambered to have this in one of her galleries. She loved unusual pieces like this," he said. Sometimes a bit of truth was the best way to maintain a facade.
That said, it didn't escape Bruce's notice that Franks never once mention her friend's name or anything identifiable about her.
'The list of people who make fantasy maps by hand can't be large, especially not with this level of skill. That could be a lead.'
"Making fake maps is a cute hobby and all but think good ol' Bruce got us off-track," Luthor spoke up, trying to draw Franks' attention back to him and the file in his hand.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Franks' frown. He hid a smirk, 'That was a misstep, Luthor. You just insulted someone she cares about. Her guard is going to be back up.'
"Ah, yes. The partnership proposals, I'd completely forgotten," Franks said airily, the sweetly fake smile back in place. She slid in her plush desk chair, taking the file from Lex's hand. Franks flipped through it for a moment before closing it again, handing the file back. "Unfortunately, I-"
"LUNCHTIME! IT'S LUNCHTIME!"
Bruce and Luthor watched stunned, slack-jawed surprise as a small, blue and gray Rubix cube-esc block on Franks' desk unfolded itself into the shape of a man holding up a tiny clock. It started pacing up and down the length of her desk, waving the clock in the air and shouting.
"IT IS TIME FOR LUNCH! EVEN SOMEONE AS SUUUUUUPPPPPPPAAAAAAA AS YOU NEEDS TO EAT! SO GO! GET! LUNCH!"
A fond smile -also completely genuine- graced the woman's face. She picked the strange little device up, cradling it in her hands with the utmost tenderness, before pressing down on the top of the clock, silencing the chant.
When Franks saw them staring, she giggled. "Fufufu, it's a gift from my husband. For as much as the man admires my work ethic, he worries about me skipping lunches. He built this to remind me to stop and eat."
"Yes… that's right, I'd read you were married," Luthor said. The man had surely sensed Franks' interest slipping away; if he was to regain control of the conversation, he'd have to act quickly.
Bruce wondered if Luthor would ever look back on the conversation and realize that he'd never been in control. Neither of them was.
Franks rested her cheek in her hand and smiled, "Where?"
"What?"
Another smile. "Where did you read I was married? My husband isn't mentioned anywhere on the business' website. I've never mentioned him in my rare interviews and he's never appeared in public. Tom is the shy sort, I'm afraid; he prefers to spend the day toiling away in his workshop."
Bruce faked a cough to hide his smirk. 'Another slip-up? You're off your game, Luthor. Were you expecting easier prey or just thrown off by a woman not immediately falling for your so-called charms?'
He'd know Nico Franks was married too, of course. He'd found the woman's marriage certificate to a Thomas Water Franks when digging into her life, along with her schooling and health records. The records of both individuals were completely clean and utterly unimpressive, except in the fact that they were exquisite fakes. Bruce couldn't even spot any of the tell-tale signs of the most elite forgers on his radar. Either one of the Franks was an expert at creating fake identities or they knew someone who was. The only thing Bruce could be reasonably certain were genuine was Nico Franks' academic works and the company's patents and paperwork. Honestly, he couldn't even be entirely sure Tom Franks was a real person.
However, 'Mr. Franks' may have just given Bruce an opportunity to get his 'wife' into a more vulnerable position.
"Well, we certainly can't let our presence cause you to disappoint your husband, can we?" Bruce said. "Might I suggest we move this meeting somewhere more casual? I know an excellent restaurant not far from here."
When Franks and Luthor both turned to him, Bruce could see the wheels turning behind their eyes. They were considering what his angle could be, what game was being played. In the business world, even 'friendly' competitors were constantly manipulating and trying to get one over on each other. Nico Franks and Thousand Solutions were squeaky clean on paper, yes, but the woman's eyes were far too shrewd and calculating for her to have not stabbed someone in the back on her way to the top.
Lex Luthor was Lex Luthor, enough said there.
And that left the two weighing the pros and cons of agreeing to Bruce's proposal. For Luthor, the advantage of taking Franks out of her home turf was the same as it was for him: it put the woman in a more vulnerable position. For Franks, it allowed her to get them out of her private space. The question was if they'd decide the potential benefits outweighed the known dangers.
It was times like this Bruce's carefully cultivated Public Face of a charming and intelligent yet utterly hopeless airhead truly came in handy. Luthor, at least, could never even dream that good ol' Brucie Wayne might be up to something nefarious.
So, after a moment, the bald man gave a friendly grin. "Lunch sounds like a fantastic suggestion. What do you say, Mrs. Franks? My treat."
Franks looked between the two men, brown eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion yet never once losing her own Face. And, sure enough, after a moment...
"Why, that sounds lovely." Franks picked up her desk phone, "I'll just call a car and then take a moment to freshen up. Tending to my plants can leave me such a mess, I'm afraid."
"Actually, I don't suppose you could point me to a restroom?" Lex asked, faking an appropriately half bashful look. "Nature calls, and all that."
"Of course, take the elevator one floor down. The closest guest bathroom will be the second door on the left. You should be able to find it without issue, the rest of the rooms on that floor are just used to house servers and old files."
Internally, Bruce flinched. Franks had been doing so well, not giving either himself or Luthor an inch when it came to her company's internal data. Even with all of his skills and equipment, he hadn't been able to hack into their systems or cameras. Everything was entirely closed circuit and in-house, even the building's public wifi was kept entirely separate from the network all the work computers operated on. And that didn't even touch on the level of security the place had!
'Either she doesn't think we'll do anything or she is confident we won't be able to do anything,' he thought, watching both Luthor and the woman leave -Franks into a small connecting room and Lex down the elevator.
Suspicion buzzed in the back of his mind but Bruce wasn't about to let this opportunity go to waste. He scanned the room once more; even to his trained eye, he couldn't see any security cameras. Not that it meant anything. As much as Franks was obviously a woman who liked her privacy, she was also a business owner who clearly understood the importance of security. Which meant he still needed to be careful.
His Face still deliberately up, his moments purposefully casual, Bruce ambled around the room. To whoever was watching the cameras, he would appear as nothing more than a bored man killing time. What it wouldn't show, however, was him planting a series of small surveillance bugs.
First, he walked back to the framed map, leaning forward to slide his hand down the -expertly made, Bruce had to admit- wooden frame and sticking the first of the bugs around the back of it. From the way Franks had spoken of the map, it was clear that she treasured it deeply. Even if she tore the room apart looking for listening devices, he couldn't see the woman risking harm to it. After that, another six bugs were placed on a windowsill, on of the bookshelves, more of the room's artwork, and various curiosities.
The final and most risky bug was tucked into Frank's desk. Leaning over and pretending to investigate the various items scattered across it -'No personal pictures,' Bruce noticed. 'Not even of her wedding, family, or friends.'- nestled into the wiring of her computer. He'd only just gotten it in place when Bruce heard the door to Franks' private bathroom sliding open. Bruce grabbed the closest thing on the desk and held it up like he was examining it as a cover.
"Thank you for waiting, Mr. Wayne. I'm ready to- What are you doing?" Franks asked.
Bruce put on a bashful grin and glanced down at what he grabbed -the strange little alarm Franks' husband had designed. "Sorry, I was curious. Didn't mean any harm, I've just never seen anything like it before."
"That isn't surprising. All my husband's inventions for friends and family are highly personalized, each completely unique to the tastes and needs of those who receive them," Franks said, taking the alarm from his hand. The sunglasses and stylish sunhat Franks was wearing made her even more infuriatingly difficult to read than before. "Shall we go then? We can pick up Mr. Luthor on our way down."
Bruce offered up his elbow, which Franks slid her hand into with -genuine- laugh. "Let's go."
"Here you are. For the gentlemen -duck breasts with apricot chutney and rice, and pan-fried Hungarian foie gras served with flambéed apples, caramelized pears, and mushroom salad," the restaurant's head waiter announced as a team of servers set about serving Bruce and Luthor's respective meals. "And, for the lady... Pork Bánh Mì With quick pickles & roasted broccoli sandwiches. Is there anything else I could do for our most esteemed guests?"
"Just send over the sommelier and a bottle of your best cognac," Luthor said, shoving his menu at the nearest waiter.
Bruce fought the urge to frown and made a mental note to give a more generous than usual tip.
"Some coffee, if you don't mind," Franks said sweetly, handing over her menu with far more gentleness. "A splash of milk and one sugar, please. Just one, that is very important. I don't want it too sweet."
"Of course, madam. I will see to it personally."
"Coffee for me as well," Bruce added. "Black."
"At once, sir," the waiter said with a respectful nod of the head. "For now, We'll leave you all to enjoy your meals."
When he was gone, Franks' picked up one of her sandwiches and smiled. "This looks delicious. What a wonderful place you recommended, Mr. Wayne."
"I've been here a few times and never left disappointed," Bruce said. "And, please, call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne was my father."
"Wasn't your father a surgeon?" Luthor commented. Then he cocked an eyebrow at Franks, "Sandwiches, really? We take you to a gourmet restaurant and you order sandwiches?"
"Fufufu, I like what I like," Franks giggled. But, when she took the first bite of her meal, something strange happened.
She frowned.
"Is something wrong with your food?" Bruce asked, confused. "If you don't like it we can call the waiter back."
"No, it's fine. Delicious even," the woman said, shaking her head. "I just spent... years eating the food prepared by the best. After that, nothing quite compares."
Luthor pounced on the comment, no doubt seeing it as a chance to glean more personal information. "Oh, you had a personal chef? Where was he trained? Mine studied at the Culinary Arts Academy in Switzerland. I know everyone says that the Auguste Escoffier School of Culinary Arts is the best but I remain skeptical."
Another sweetly fake smile. "He was trained by his father. In a restaurant, you wouldn't have heard of."
The warm way she spoke left Bruce certain that this chef was another dear friend. 'And another person whose name she was careful not to mention.'
By his side, Luthor stiffened. He was careful not to let it show but Bruce could tell he was growing annoyed by the repeated stonewalling. The man had started this meeting so smug, so confident he'd walked away with everything he wanted and more. It was increasingly clear that Luthor hadn't been expecting the enigma that was Nico Franks.
Neither of them had been.
The three lapsed into silence for a while as they ate, broken only by the sommelier coming to present some wine choices. It was a comfortable enough atmosphere, here in their private VIP room, but Bruce never let his guard down. Not around Franks. Not around Luthor, who could easily have mercy nearby. And there was no telling who else around them was on the take.
That was part of the reason he'd suggested The Silver Spoon in the first place. Picking the location of lunch gave him more control of the situation. Bruce had been here before. He was familiar with most of the staff, the layout, and the best places to sit for cover and surveillance. And the other reason was that...
"So, Mr. Wayne, how did you come to be familiar with this place?" Franks asked. "You are Gotham man, correct? Wayne Enterprise doesn't have a branch in Bludhaven so I'm surprised you've spent enough time here to have a favorite restaurant."
"Yeah, Bruce, how'd you manage to find the one decent place to eat in a city unfit for human habitation?" Lex asked.
"Oh, my son lives in Bludhaven and is where we eat when I come to visit."
...On top of the food being genuinely tasty, he had some good memories of this place. Mostly of the rare times when Dick decided he could stand Bruce's presence long enough to have a good meal and make awkward small talk.
Luthor gave him a confused look, "Son? You don't have any kids."
Bruce frowned, a spark of genuine anger coming through before he was able to shove it back down. Forcing a friendly grin, he slapped Luthor on the back with more force than strictly necessary. "C'mon, Lex, I know you've been avoiding my parties but has it been so long that you've forgotten Dick and Tim?"
He hated bringing the boys into this conversation. Even if their existence and connection to him was public knowledge, giving the names of his biggest weak spots was a special kind of necessary evil.
"Oh yeah, the circus kid you took in! Grayson, wasn't it?" Luthor asked. "I remember him. A real charmer that one. Haven't seen him lately, is he off running one of your foreign divisions?"
Ah, there it was. The digging for anything that could be used as ammunition. Luthor had always been fond of the fishing-for-information-disguised-as-casual-conversation tactic. He was charming enough to pull it off with most people too. Bruce wasn't like most people, he knew what the other man was trying. But to clamp up and refuse to talk about his children would be suspicious. Even if Luthor wouldn't think anything of it, Franks -who'd kept suspiciously quiet through the entire exchange- might. After all, most father's loved bragging about their kids.
'I'd like to brag about them,' Bruce admitted to himself. 'I'd have so much to go on about. Tim is brilliant, and Dick is amazing on all fronts.'
He rolled a response around in his mouth, eventually settling on, "No. I am planning on opening a branch of my company here in Bludhaven, but Dick doesn't work for me."
'He's refused. Multiple times.'
"Ah. Well, I guess you don't need to keep Grayson around now that he is an adult," Luthor shrugged.
"...Dick chose not to be involved. He wanted to be a cop instead," Bruce said after a moment. "It's a noble pursuit."
Luthor, at the very least, had the decency to nod in pretend respect. "That it is. Still, I can't imagine it was easy for you. Don't worry, I'm sure your prodigal son will return to the nest eventually."
It was times like this where Bruce wondered if Luthor wasn't as willfully blind as he believed. That comment was almost too pointed for it to be a coincidence.
"Lex, would you mind going to find the sommelier?" Franks flashed Luthor a dazzling smile, reaching over to stroke the man's forearm, "I'm just dying for more of that delicious red he had, and I'm afraid I can't be patient enough to wait for a waiter to return."
Whatever surprise Luthor -and Bruce, for that matter- was feeling after that abrupt change of demeanor, vanished quickly. "If that wine was enough to impress you, I have some in my personal collection that would completely blow you away."
"Mmmm, perhaps I'll let you show me sometime."
Thankfully, Bruce was saved from having to listen to any more of that by Luthor leaving to go fetch the sommelier. Before Bruce could spend too much time analyzing all of Franks' possible avenues, the woman sighed.
"What an unpleasant man."
Bruce blinked, turning to face her. Was this an attempt to confuse him? To trick Bruce into revealing something useful about Luthor?
He shifted in his chair, playing into the discomfort he was feeling. "Oh, Lex? I know he can come across as a little... rough around the edges, but that is just the force of his personality. When you're that brilliant, rich, and successful, it's hard not to be that confident in everything you do."
Franks gave him an unamused look. "Don't pretend with me. It's undignifying for us both."
.
.
.
"Alright," Bruce nodded, voice dropping low and his false smile falling away. "Cards on the table then. Who are you? I've checked everything possible about you online and come away absolutely empty-handed when it comes to personal details. Except for you being married and your academic papers, you might as well not even exist outside of your role as the CEO for Thousand Solutions. And, I have to wonder, what is a historian doing leading a tech company?"
The sweetly fake smile was back. Only, this time, it wasn't quite so faked. There was a little more genuine amusement this time, a little more interest and investment in the conversation she was having.
"It is true that my husband is the real brain behind the R&D part of the company. Honestly, I have full faith he could run the human resources and business sides of it perfectly well too, but that doesn't interest him nearly as much as the inventing and building," Franks said easily. "As for me? My story is simple enough."
I became a historian and archaeologist at a young age. My mother was the inspiration for my passion but a library and the people who worked there cultivated it. When I lost them, I struck out on my own, traveling around and learning about history wherever and whenever I could, never settling anywhere for long. After many years, I met a group of individuals who loved me like family and convinced me to stay, including my now-husband. I consider that to be the true start of my life."
She sipped her coffee. "My husband was adopted, you know? I suppose I was too, though far less happily. Still, I have great respect for those who open their hearts and homes to children the world didn't want."
Franks said the last bit like it was an explanation. Like the woman wanted Bruce to know why she was deciding to reveal these details about herself.
And yet...
"You're telling me a lot about yourself and your life, Mrs. Franks," Bruce said slowly. "But it occurs to me that you're saying very little at the same time. You also haven't explained why you invited Luthor and me to your company when you obviously have no interest in a partnership."
"Fufufu, a woman has to have her secrets, Bruce. For example, I-" Franks held out a closed fist in front of him "-have eyes everywhere."
Then, without another word, she dropped all of the surveillance bugs Bruce had planted in her office on the table in front of him.