Damian greets Dani in French, and she doesn't hesitate to respond the same way. Halfway through the conversation, he switches unexpectedly to Spanish and she follows without pause. I'm not even sure she's aware she's doing it; the poor kid is exhausted.

"Was meinst du?" she asks for clarification when he changes languages in the middle of the sentence. He explains in the same manner of half Spanish, half German, and she mutters a reply. I mentally note her request for conversation was not do to the lack of comprehension of the two mashed languages, but a misunderstanding based on how Damian presented his question.

Damian continues a rigorous conversation/interrogation, constantly switching languages and topics in as casual a manner as he can manage. Dani, on the verge of falling asleep, mumbles her replies in whatever language the last word was spoken in, sometimes switching words for similar pronunciations in other languages. While they converse, I take careful mental notes on Dani's proficiency of each language.

Dani didn't often speak in anything other than English, and when asked couldn't recall the languages she knew or her development in each, so Damian had taken it upon himself to find out. She got annoyed when he tried to trick her into changing languages and usually replied in English, hence his ambush when she tried to sneak off to bed.

It was her own fault, really. She knew the dreaded Tim training session would be happening but stayed out in the city all night anyway, alternating between stalking me and Damian on patrol and conversing with the homeless. Every one of them she liked she bought an ice cream cone with, and I counted at least nine in her hands just last night.

Okay, so I was stalking her a little bit too. But in my defense, who eats that much ice cream?

I don't think she expected the training session to go on as long as it did; my and Jason's were usually only six hours or so. But Tim always was determined to a fault. His training went on until she could complete every task flawlessly. Given her lack of experience, it was actually impressive that mastery only took her fourteen hours. Although, I'm sure (mostly because she said so herself) that she didn't think so.

Damian continues with Chinese, which is where her mind officially breaks. "Lasu min sola," she expresses, climbing to her feet unsteadily. "Iru paroli kun via kato; mi enlitiĝas."

This surprises us both, and we don't stop her as she wanders away, vaguely aimed in the direction of the stairs. "What language was that?" Damian demands of me once she's out of earshot. "Some sounded like Spanish, but I don't recognize the rest."

I shake my head, unsure, and go to the Batcomputer, pulling up Bruce's translation program. Using the Spanish pronunciation and alphabet, I do my best to recreate what she'd said. The computer recognizes the language, automatically correcting my errors and translating into English. "Leave me alone. Go talk to your cat; I'm going to bed," I read. "Esperanto."

"Where did she learn Esperanto?" he asks in disbelief, examining the translation with a touch of jealousy.

"No idea." I open up her file, though, and add my observations of her languages to her profile. She thought it was hilarious that I kept one and frequently read it, trying to find out just how we figured this or that out about her. Tim had drawn the line at her editing it, though, after she had added "pole dancing" and "chandelier climbing" to her list of known affinities.

Using Bruce's unique rating system, I input her known languages and her level of proficiency in each.

English - Level 8 AVL

French - Level 6 AV

German - Level 5 AV

Spanish - Level 7 AV

Russian - Level 5 AV

Chinese - Level 4 AV

Italian - Level 5 AV

Arabic - Level 3 AV

Japanese - Level 4 AV

Korean - Level 4 AVL

Esperanto - Level 6 AV

Greek?

Latin?

Level 9 is the highest level of which you can reach, being perfect mastery. Level one is knowing a couple of words and the pronunciation, Level two has more words, a basic understanding of grammar and recognition of the alphabet... and so on and so forth. AVL stands for Auditory, Verbal and Literacy, meaning understanding, speaking and reading/writing the language.

"It is impressive," Damian relents, reading the list as I create it. "She has to be a genius to learn that many languages."

"You know that many," I note absently, saving the file.

"I am a genius." He gestures to the screen. "And I had the best tutors Mother could provide. How did she reach that level?"

"She travels," I muse, trying to calculate the amount of time she'd have to spend in each country to learn so many languages so well. "I think that she's figured out languages as you and Bruce have."

He nods sharply. "Grammar, words, context. All languages are the same base, once you break it down. The rest is memorizing the words."

"Exactly. I just can't believe we didn't notice her affinity for languages. She speaks English without accents or mixing up words or pronunciations. That's usually the biggest sign."

"To her credit, she did tell us."

I chuckle, recalling her argument with Damian. "That's true." I pull out my phone as I respond, typing out a mass-text to everyone in the household. Damian pulls up the alert when it pings his glove, sending me an annoyed glance before wandering off to do whatever it is he does for fun.

Then I shut Dani out of my mind and return to the case Damian and I had been working on for the past week or so. A serial killer that killed men and women alike, leaving them without hands upside down in their bedrooms.

Did I mention how much I love Gotham?

When I wander into the kitchen early the next morning, feeling dead on my feet after a long night of investigation, Dani is pouring batter onto a waffle iron. Alfred stands to the side, supervising her as he cuts strawberries. She offers me a bright smile as I collapse into a barstool and lean over the counter to grope for the coffee pot.

"Yumkinuk tamrir li alqahuwata?" I articulate slowly, sending Alfred a wink. He had decided against our day of Arabic, saying he's "a bit rusty on Middle Eastern dialects" in that sarcastic tone of his.

Dani's face slips into confusion, glancing at the coffee and then back at me. "Qahu?" she repeats, grabbing the handle of the pot and passing it to me. I mentally cheer for her, as she'd broken the grammar down to find the subject of my question, even if she didn't understand the words I spoke. "Why are you speaking Arabic?"

"'Iinah yawm earabiin. la anjaliziat." I pour myself a cup of coffee in a mug Alfred gave me, adding sugar and cream.

"What about today? What's 'No English day?'"

I shrug, and she groans in exasperation. "I don't know Arabic that well. It's one of the most difficult languages to learn, you know!"

And that's exactly why Bruce made us all learn it. I say so in Arabic, just causing Dani to glare. "lhdha alsabab jaealna brus jamieuna nadrusuh."

Damian enters the room, greeting me by correcting my grammatical errors. Dani growls when he corrects me in Arabic, taking her frustration out on a waffle buried in whipped cream and syrup. Then she addresses Alfred. "You'd think they'd be impressed with my language skills, but no. Eight isn't enough for them."

"Ahd eshr," Damian corrects her assessment to eleven. She waves that off, digging back into her waffles. I find myself wondering how she looked so well rested if she'd only had the last six-ish hours to sleep.

She notices me analyzing her and insults me in Arabic, something I can't directly translate. Damian snickers, though, so it can't be good.

We continue eating breakfast, Damian and I mercilessly engaging Dani in conversation she struggles to follow, while Alfred tidies up the kitchen and sends us exasperated glances. We're in the middle of our second helping of waffles when Bruce joins us, wearing a ruffled shirt. He grunts a hello in Arabic (he got my text, :D) and helps himself to a plate of waffles.

I ask him-in Arabic, of course-where he's been and what he's been doing and he conversationally responds with stories of his reintegration in the company and the League. It'd only been a couple of weeks since he'd returned, and already the weight of the world had settled back upon his shoulders. However, with Damian and I taking care of Gotham and all the other allies that had arisen during his brief absence now at his command, his responsibilities eased considerably. Still, it was uncommon that we crossed paths nowadays.

Dani continues to get more frustrated with our conversation, often asking for clarification and translation that doesn't come as readily as she demands. After finishing her breakfast, she angrily washes the dish and stalks out of the kitchen.

Bruce watches her leave with humor, turning the conversation to her now that she'd left. "I saw her train with Tim yesterday," he says in English. "I thought you said she wasn't going to pick up a mask."

"It's only a matter of time," Damian declares in a decided tone. I look at him in interest, and he explains. "She has a certain aptitude for learning what we teach her, and she takes joy in doing good. Once she has gotten over her child-like aversion to responsibility, she will undoubtedly join our ranks."

Bruce nods. "I have come to the same conclusion." He looks to me, but I shrug, not offering input one way or the other. Whatever she decides is her choice. "What's her training today?"

"She doesn't have any, I think." He asks why with a single twitch in his eyebrow. He must be going crazy not being in charge of her training. "We only make her train three times a week. Sometimes she picks up more when she's bored, but Tim's session wore her out yesterday so I doubt that will happen today."

"So the Arabic?"

I try not to grin. "Testing her extent of the language."

Damian mumbles around his glass of water, "It's funny when she gets mad."

Bruce grants us one of his rare smiles and stands up from the bar. "I'm off to the company for the day," he announces. "Don't forget about the annual Gold Banquet tomorrow. We're hosting, so there will be people here at noon to set up."

Damian and I let out mirrored groans.

He gives us both a light glare. "Don't get in their way." What he means is behave and don't lead any of them to the BatCave. You think he'd have to warn us, but you'd be surprised... He waves goodbye, sending us one more stern glance, and leaves the room.

Now finished with breakfast, Damian and I head down to the BatCave, hoping to hide from the people for the day. As soon as we exit the elevator, Dani shoots up from the pole and lands on her feet, waving at me.

"Hey, hey, can I borrow a motorcycle?"

Jason's out today, so why does she want to go driving? "Why?"

The answer comes from another person shooting up the pole. Dressed in a plain long-sleeved shirt and jeans, Barbra lands soundly on her feet and answers my question with a two-fingered wave. It still amazes me to see her on her feet, even almost nine months after her recovery. I linger there for a second before returning to her face.

"I didn't know there was another one," she remarks in good humor, putting one hand on her hip. "But thank Bats it's a girl."

Dani nods knowingly. "The testosterone does get a little overpowering."

"What are you doing here?" I ask Barbra with a smile.

"I was visiting, but now I'm going to hang out with this bundle of sarcasm."

Dani gives me two thumbs up.

"Yeah, okay, go ahead and take a couple cycles. What are you going to do?"

They look at each other, both shrugging. "Shopping," Barb answers. "Don't you guys have a party tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but Dani doesn't have to go."

"If we have to go," Damian sniffs, "she has to go."

"It'll be fun," Barb promises, though Dani looks unconvinced. Can't say I blame her. "We can get you a whole bunch of pretty dresses and stuff." She holds out her hand to me. I glance at it and back up at her in confusion. "Credit card?"

Oh. I fish out my wallet and hand her a random card from my collection, knowing they all had an insane amount of cash on them. She pockets it with a Cheshire smile and turns to Dani. "Let's go!"

She has a petulant frown on her face, wrinkling her nose. "I don't like dresses." Then she glances at Damian and I. "But let's go before they remember they're supposed to be speaking Arabic."

Damian lets out an Arabic swear as the girls laugh and slide down the pole. I let out a soft laugh once they're out of earshot, turning towards Damian. "So, training?"

Sorry for the short, slow chapter after the couple weeks of radio silence. However, this chapter was necessary, because the next sees Dani entering the world of upper-class Gotham. I wonder what you guys think I'm going to do with that...? Answer: a lot.

Let's throw in some comment replies while I'm at it, shall we?

Yes, Danny and Sam are a couple. I hardcore ship them. Plus, they're not the main part of this fic, so adding romantic angst with the two makes no sense. Second, Danny didn't tell Dani about Vlad because Vlad and Danny fight all the time and its old news. Besides, Danny beat Vlad before he could accomplish anything... Or... did he? Anyway, finally, yes the Fentons are selling tech and all that, but like most new inventions in the science world, it doesn't really affect the general populace. Like new surgical tools and lab materials. Nobody knows about that stuff. Ghosts aren't a huge addition to the world but are starting to moderately affect it. Again, it's not really the focus of this fic so I'm not doing a whole bunch with it.