Aftermath of a Storm


It may have been an expectation of Gotham’s high society, but if Bruce was being honest with himself, he wasn’t particularly fond of attending these charity dinners filled with the city’s elite.  He supposed it was a learned behavior, becoming an upstanding member of Gotham’s society, but in truth, his heart just wasn’t in it.

He should have expected to see her, a figure he could recognize from afar with 100% accuracy each and every time.  He should have known she would be there, hundreds of Gotham’s richest citizens mingling about with money clips and wallets so easy for snatching, but the trouble was…this time…he hadn’t WANTED to see her.  So he avoided her.  He tried to socialize with the others present at the gala, “networking” as Alfred called it, attempting to distract himself, but in truth, mingling was exhausting and he found himself wandering off to an isolated wing.  He took a moment in that back room to just lean against the wall and breathe…

Until she passed through, no doubt attempting to sneak out.  He didn’t move, didn’t speak, only watched her move through in that all-too-familiar and graceful cat-like way.  Not a word.


Sorry for not being around much this weekend (been a tough one work-wise) and I know that I still owe some of you lovely persons, but I think I need to just take this afternoon off for some Me Time.

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