Thanksgiving at Wayne Manor

[_nightwing_]

Historically, Thanksgiving has been a mixed bag of emotions and usually an opportunity for high drama where the Bat family is concerned. There was the year they found out about Bruce's satellite, for instance. The year Selina was first in attendance at the table

Comments

[cassandracain]

Cassandra slinks in from outside. She clutches a box of baked goods she bought at the bakery down the street from the Dragon dojo, hoping that she won't offend Alfred by bringing something he hasn't cooked.

[oracle_watching]

"Cassandra!" Babs greets her. "Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie."

[_robin_]

Tim looks up from playing with Mary, and grins.

Hey, Cassandra!

He waves Mary's arm at her, prompting more giggles from the little girl.

[cassandracain]

A broad grin lights up her face, and she waves, for almost comical effect, at the toddler.

"H'lo, Tim," she lilts, obviously pleased.

[_robin_]

Tim is pleased to see Cassandra - their patrol routes haven't crossed for a couple of days.

How's it going?

[cassandracain]

She shrugs, still smiling, sidling closer to him. She'd missed him these past few days. "Big city," she said, sighing.

[_robin_]

It is.

He gently bumps her shoulder with his, smiling gently.

Gonna have to do something about that. Up for a game of pigeon chase this week?

[cassandracain]

Cassandra's eyes widen slightly as she notes the presence of Holly Go-Nightly, inclining her head, asking a silent question.

[holly_gonightly]

Holly smiles gamely.

"Hi," she says. "I'm new."

[cassandracain]

"Cassandra," she says, hand pressed, palm inward, against her own chest. She sketches a slight bow, glancing around, trying to divine who this new person had come with.

[holly_gonightly]

"I'm, um, an old friend of Selina's," she says. "Name's Holly."

Yeah. She's definitely... feeling new.

[cassandracain]

"You'll like dinner," she said, trying to help ease the obvious tension in the lines of this girl's stance, the board-straight set of her shoulders. To Cassandra, she looked nervous-to-the-verge-of-bolting, nothing others would immediately notice. Body language was, after all, Cassandra's specialty.

"Alfred makes everything taste good. Even the, uhm..." her brow forruws in concentration, trying to remember the word, "...yams. Yams. Very sweet."

[_nightwing_]

Cass! It's good to see you.

Dick pauses at Holly's shoulder, and grins sidelong at the new addition to the festivities.

She's right. Babs has been trying to get Alfred's recipe for those out of him for years. I think she's going to resort to espionage soon.

[cassandracain]

She smiles at Dick, nodding slightly, as she continues to size up Holly, assessing her potential as a threat, even in this room full of warriors, Cassandra doesn't know how to fully let her guard down.

[_nightwing_]

He knows the look well. A small, barely-registerable hand signal, when he catches Cass's eye - no threat - used often between them when out on patrol - made out of their guest's line of sight. Whether it will help her stand a little more at ease remains to be seen.

I hope you didn't bring doughnuts in that box, Cass, he adds, with a smile. You know how Alfred gets about those things.

[cassandracain]

Her shoulders relax subtly, and the hand holding the box of pastries - puffs and cream cakes, not the ever-threatened donuts - relaxes ever so.

"Little cakes," she says, smiling. "From the baker's on Finger. Full of sweet cream."