Well, FF hasn't been working that great on my end, so I can't tell if anyone is even viewing this story… but here's the next chapter.
Chapter 2 – Le Canard Qui Rit
"Le usual table, monsieur Wayne?" the maitre d' greeted as Bruce and Selina approached the guest podium.
"That will be fine, thank you Pierre," Bruce replied. After an embarrassing delay, he remembered to link arms with his date. Pierre then escorted them to a charming spot with the best window view in the house. A collection of tall, exotic plants kept them discreetly hidden from the other patrons.
Selina waited for Pierre to be out of earshot. "Your usual table, eh? How often do you come here?"
"You caught that," he muttered, showing intense interest in the menu.
"Yes. And you didn't answer my question."
"Fairly often. It's my favorite restaurant. Do you have one?"
"I'd like to, but I only just moved here a few months ago," she shrugged. "I haven't seen enough of the city yet to decide."
Slowly setting the menu down, Bruce looked distracted. "You're new here?"
"All my friends warned me to stay away from Gotham, but it's really growing on me."
"Really? I find that hard to believe –"
Selina frowned. "Obviously you like it here. Why can't I?"
"No, I mean… it's hard to believe you just moved here," he said strangely. "This may sound odd, but for some reason, it feels like we've met before. And not just recently."
"Curious," she lifted one eyebrow. "I'll admit, I was sort of thinking the same thing about you."
"It's silly though. We'd definitely remember more clearly if we had."
"I suppose," Selina thoughtfully sipped her wine. "Wait, you're having white wine with steak tonight? I'm surprised the waiters at this place would allow such a faux pas."
"Hm? Oh… it's not white wine."
"Well, it's certainly not red," she scoffed.
Bruce pursed his lips. "All right. It's ginger ale."
"What? Why?"
"If you must know, I don't drink alcohol."
Selina nearly spat out her next mouthful. "Are you serious?"
Bruce stared evenly at her, jaw set. "Very."
"You are definitely full of surprises, Bruce Wayne," she regarded him with awe.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing, in your opinion?"
"That remains to be seen," she said coyly. "The night is young, and so are we."
The private opera box was nice, of course, although Bruce disliked having to sit on the flat-cushioned seat they'd said would be reupholstered by now. In contrast, however, there was one pleasant surprise – Selina withdrew a pair of gold-rimmed opera glasses just as the curtain rose. As the scenes unfolded, she astounded him further by whispering various critiques of the Italian verses being sung.
It seemed they were both fully capable of surprising one another.
He couldn't keep his gaze from admiring her neck, which looked exquisite with a glittering diamond necklace gracing its curves. Not many women could pull off a pixie haircut and still look like, well, women, but Selina Kyle was definitely one who could. Her black velvet dress sensuously absorbed the light that her raven-colored hair reflected, even in the high recesses of the theatre.
Bruce had sat next to countless beautiful women in these seats. Yet Selina wasn't just beautiful. She was utterly captivating.
He'd felt chemistry before too, plenty of times. But this wasn't just chemistry. It was electrifying.
He'd felt it the instant she walked up on that auction stage two weeks ago – a supercharged current that shocked him to the core. Bruce Wayne did not suffer from stage fright, although it seemed he did suffer from teenage levels of self-conscious infatuation.
The very idea was totally humiliating. Him, of all people! His dating résumè included lunch on the Riviera, sunset dancing on the deck of his superyacht, and double-dating with the President of the United States. By all reason and logic, he should be the last man on earth to ever feel self-conscious.
Yet reason and logic couldn't explain how until tonight, he'd never told anyone about his ginger ale secret. (Besides Alfred, obviously.) All his worldly connections and romantic wisdom of a lifetime couldn't explain that.
Nor could it explain how this woman, whom he'd never seen or heard of before, suddenly materialized with a million dollars to casually spend on a date. Within Bruce's social echelon, there simply weren't any surprise millionaires out there. Wealthy peers didn't just appear out of thin air. Selina's arrival had done more than just surprise him – she'd unnerved him, stunned him, and left him with far more questions than he was comfortable harboring.
The time to ask some of those questions would have been at dinner, not the opera box. But intermission had already come and gone, and precious time remained before their carriage turned back into a pumpkin. It had to be now.
"Ahem," Bruce shifted his weight onto the armrest closer to Selina. "I can tell this isn't your first time at the opera."
She nodded absently.
"Where did you attend before?"
"Hm?"
"Before you moved here, where was the closest opera house?"
A slight frown flickered. "I don't know, there were a couple different ones…"
"The last opera you saw, what was it?" he pressed. Something felt off.
"I-I don't remember, it's been a while," she faltered. "Why are you asking?"
"Just curious. Wondered if it's something we had enough in common to… continue sharing."
"I see. Why don't we wait to discuss this later, after the show?"
"Fair enough," Bruce growled, eyeing Selina calculatingly. He noticed her posture had grown subtly more defensive over the course of their conversation. Not bad for a couple minutes' work. At least he still had enough of his wits about him to keep her slightly off-balance too.
A million pieces of rhetorical dialogue swirled through Bruce's mind as he opened Selina's limo door. One for every dollar she'd paid for him that evening – how fitting. His expression betrayed nothing of his tumultuous thoughts, and neither did hers. Alfred welcomed two poised, sophisticated socialites into the manor, catching a wink from Bruce as they headed toward the main balcony.
"It's such a warm night," Selina remarked, admiring the view.
"Unseasonably," agreed Bruce.
"That's a shame," grinned Selina. "Now I don't have an excuse to wear your coat."
"I could still offer it to you, if you really wanted," he shrugged.
"No thanks… more clothes isn't exactly what I'm aiming for."
"Wow."
"Just kidding!" she flashed a dazzling smile. "Man, you're easy to tease."
Bruce allowed a smile back. "In my defense, you probably have that effect on most people."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It can be, as long as it's balanced out with honesty."
"Tsk, such a serious tone for a fun night," she chided. "I was really hoping for a tour of the mansion."
"A tour?"
"Yes. I don't think it's an unreasonable thing to ask for, given what I paid."
Bruce didn't appreciate that approach. "Getting your money's worth is all that matters to you?"
"No… well, yes, sort of!" Selina scoffed a little. "If you were in my position, wouldn't you expect the same? It's like buying a VIP backstage pass to a show. You get the whole… exclusive experience."
He wasn't misinterpreting things this time – there was definitely a lascivious undertone to her words. She had some nerve, treating him like a premium escort date. He'd used – and been used by – plenty of women, but never – never – had money been exchanged as part of the deal. That was one dehumanizing step too far.
He set his face like flint. "I think there may be a misunderstanding of what you're entitled to here."
"What? You're telling me there's no chance of a tour?" she was indignant. "Some gracious host you are."
"If it were a simple tour, fine. But I get the impression you may only be interested in one room in particular."
Selina's eyes widened in incredulous fury. "How little do you think of me?"
"Look, I'm sorry if I misread things, but I don't want –"
"How dare you insult me like this," she seethed, storming past. "Way to ruin a lovely evening, Bruce. I hope your next date goes just as well."
"Selina –"
Before he could fumble a response together, the main entrance slammed behind her, echoing thunderously through the hall. He and Alfred exchanged woeful looks.
"I take it Miss Kyle won't be partaking of any champagne tonight," Alfred set the serving tray down with a sigh.
"I'm afraid not."
"Very well. Shall I fill the Jacuzzi for you?"
"Sure," Bruce nodded, rubbing his eyes. "It's been a long night."
Alfred was about to open his mouth in agreement when something caught his eye over Bruce's shoulder. "Not quite long enough, it would seem."
Following Alfred's finger, Bruce knew what he'd find before he saw it. There was the bat signal hovering in the night sky.
"This," he grumbled to himself while heading toward the Batcave, "is exactly why I don't drink alcohol."
