The lock clicked, and Duela Dent drew her key out before opening the door. She closed and locked the door behind her, making her way down several flights of stairs
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Crane was observing the effects of his latest iteration of gas. It simply wouldn't do - something was off. He'd hoped it would be a delayed reaction, but all the test subjects had immediately begun clawing their eyes out. Obviously, he'd need to make more adjustments.
As he finished taking the final notes, he thought he heard someone calling his name. He stepped out into the hallway, blinking and looking around.
Sure enough, a blond young woman was standing over the chemistry set, observing the reactions occurring without touching anything, her hair pulled back away from her face. She couldn't guess what chemicals were interacting. She'd know if she saw the notes, but just seeing the results in a beaker, it was difficult to tell.
Still, that did not diminish the interest she showed, and one hand's fingers flexed, restraining the urge to fiddle with something, anything to see what would happen.
From the doorway, he laughed softly, noticing her twitching fingers. "So, you can't guess just from the smell or from the bubble rate? I told you you should spend more time in the lab."
"My chemistry teacher has banned me from the Bunsen burners in our lab," she replied, grinning a bit as she said it. Yes, she considered that a personal achievement. "I may be needing some new private lessons very soon."
She paused, looking up and over at him. It was hard for her to admit. "In more than just chemistry. I... need a bit of help."
"Ah, well. I'm having a bit of a cash flow problem at the moment, but I can manage something - is that what you meant?" The Bat had stepped up his efforts, recently. Oddly enough, he seemed less vicious, but he moved much faster, faster than he should at the age Crane estimated him to be. Running one long-fingered hand through his unkempt hair, Crane paused to think about where he might literally scare up some capital.
"No," Duela replied. "That would be a short-term solution. I'm looking at the long-term." She looked at the chemicals again and then smirked at him. "I want to learn. I want to be able to provide for myself, not just get money from someone." She paused again, trailing a finger around the edge of a beaker, watching the liquid inside bubble. "None of the jobs I can get pay enough to pay for the hospital, and I'm starting to have bills on top of that too. The money from the savings account," or at least the one she could access, there could easily be others she didn't know about, "is running out."
He glanced back at the bubbling components. This sort of thing always seemed to happen at the worst of times. "I have some places you could stay," he muttered, not sure if it was a terribly good idea to let her into the Crane house. If she saw it, saw the portraits, found certain documents, she would have questions he wasn't prepared to answer at the moment.
It would be impossible for him to take care of Nadine, too. With Duela about, he couldn't resort to the simple solution of locking her in a cage in one of his lairs. Nadine wouldn't complain, but Duela certainly would, and with the Bat on a rampage, it was all too possible that he might forget when he'd stashed her until there'd been a mishap. "I can step up my plans to introduce my new formula into the harbor..."
"I can manage rent," she muttered. "I just..." She paused, looking at him, right into his blue eyes with her own. She smiled, cocking her head to the side. "I want to help. Come on." Her smile widened, her tone light, "It's not like you're getting any younger. Introduce a bit of new blood into the business."
She didn't want charity. She wanted to be taught. She'd take the risks. Not like her mother could stop her. Hell, even if something happened to her... Her mother probably wouldn't notice. She was gone, lost in her own little world, where time was fluid and shadows of the past were spoken to like they were solid and the present was ignored. Still, the institution was the best place for her mother, and she didn't want this man just handing her help. She wanted to learn to help herself.
"You know I pick things up quickly, Uncle Jonathan. Even just a simple bank job. I could pull that off. Get in, gas the place, grab the money, get out."
He sighed, irritated despite himself. "Now you're thinking like -" he cut the phrase off, knowing how even the mention of Harvey affected her. "Banks aren't easy, not in the least. Besides the entire process being inelegant, you're liable to run afoul of all the wrong people. Furthermore, it's not a job for one person; you'd need help, and anyone you'd find is either too inexperienced or would want to double-cross you
( ... )
"I need a way to get money." She frowned a bit, watching him. "I know you have to have ways of funding your research, and that's all I'm asking for."
She paused, considering how best to phrase this. She wasn't going to take a hand out, but she didn't want to insult what he did. She just... needed money. "Even... Even if you could just give me a canister - or whatever you put it in - of fear gas. I'll figure out my own approach to using it, I just need somewhere to start."
"Now, that's a thought." He glanced down the hallway, towards his failed experiment. "We could actually help one another quite neatly. If, say, you were to approach some of your mother's clients, tell them you'd stolen my notebooks or some of my prototypes - I've refused to sell my trial experiments for some time, but this would be entirely different. If you sold them, it would be no reflection on my reputation, and we could observe some long-term effects after your clients dispersed the goods. I'd have some use for the less-successful batches, and you could keep the proceeds of the sale for yourself."
Duela's eyes lit up, and she nodded at this. "Naturally, I'd have a very limited supply, working with just your notes or prototypes, and when supply is short and demand is high..." That much, she knew. However, there was one offer she'd make, "I'd be more than happy to split the proceeds, since it is your work, even if it isn't quite what you wanted."
Then, driven by youth, a desire to experiment, and a bit of her own curiosity, she added, "Could I use a small bit of it for trying other methods of getting money? It'd be quickly spread around that your work had been stolen, so it wouldn't reflect on you if someone with a similar approach showed up..."
He waved away her offer of the money. "No, no. I'll still offer my goods to select clientele. The inferior product will only increase the demand from discerning customers. We can start quite the little artificial competition."
Her second question prompted a smile, a genuine one. "Of course you may. I'll be very interested to see what you do with it. For that, I'll send you out with some of my better work, though. Maybe I can add a few individual quirks to your version, or you can suggest some helpful innovations." He reached out to pat her arm, an unusual gesture coming from him. "It's good to see you take a real interest in something, Duela. I've been a little worried."
She smiled a bit herself at this, nodding, listening with rapt attention. "I think I will have helped myself to a few of your notes and prototypes." She went on, "Then, once the prototypes are gone, I can buy the chemicals needed to reproduce the work on the notes. That way, while the supply is still limited, it is not completely finite
( ... )
"We don't know for sure that she's wrong, Duela. Harvey's nothing if not resourceful. You don't have to give up hope completely." He wondered if this were unnecessarily cruel, but decided she'd need to hear the honest truth. In Gotham, nothing was definite until you found a body, and sometimes, not even then.
"A boy?" At that, he frowned again, trying to remember what it was like to be her age. He'd been in college a year or even two at sixteen, and hadn't bothered with the occasional invitation from members of both sexes, too busy with his theories for trivial things like people. Duela, though, had been unduly influenced by Harvey and Nadine, and seemed to want the company of others. She sounded like she wanted some sort of approval. "Did you actually want to go?"
"It's been a year," she said, more to herself. "If he were coming home, he would have by now. Or he'd have called or written or... something." She took in a slow breath. "Mom can't accept the truth, but I can, and I have to." Duela circled the chemistry set, watching the bubbling, inhaling the scents.
She shrugged her shoulders. "I told him I didn't want to." She hadn't, really. She hadn't wanted to go, to see the type of movie he'd be interested. Besides, that kind of an outing included the social obligation to talk, and there were too many things that might come up. "It caught me off guard, being asked something like that."
As he finished taking the final notes, he thought he heard someone calling his name. He stepped out into the hallway, blinking and looking around.
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Still, that did not diminish the interest she showed, and one hand's fingers flexed, restraining the urge to fiddle with something, anything to see what would happen.
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She paused, looking up and over at him. It was hard for her to admit. "In more than just chemistry. I... need a bit of help."
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It would be impossible for him to take care of Nadine, too. With Duela about, he couldn't resort to the simple solution of locking her in a cage in one of his lairs. Nadine wouldn't complain, but Duela certainly would, and with the Bat on a rampage, it was all too possible that he might forget when he'd stashed her until there'd been a mishap. "I can step up my plans to introduce my new formula into the harbor..."
Reply
She didn't want charity. She wanted to be taught. She'd take the risks. Not like her mother could stop her. Hell, even if something happened to her... Her mother probably wouldn't notice. She was gone, lost in her own little world, where time was fluid and shadows of the past were spoken to like they were solid and the present was ignored. Still, the institution was the best place for her mother, and she didn't want this man just handing her help. She wanted to learn to help herself.
"You know I pick things up quickly, Uncle Jonathan. Even just a simple bank job. I could pull that off. Get in, gas the place, grab the money, get out."
Reply
Reply
She paused, considering how best to phrase this. She wasn't going to take a hand out, but she didn't want to insult what he did. She just... needed money. "Even... Even if you could just give me a canister - or whatever you put it in - of fear gas. I'll figure out my own approach to using it, I just need somewhere to start."
Reply
Reply
Then, driven by youth, a desire to experiment, and a bit of her own curiosity, she added, "Could I use a small bit of it for trying other methods of getting money? It'd be quickly spread around that your work had been stolen, so it wouldn't reflect on you if someone with a similar approach showed up..."
Reply
Her second question prompted a smile, a genuine one. "Of course you may. I'll be very interested to see what you do with it. For that, I'll send you out with some of my better work, though. Maybe I can add a few individual quirks to your version, or you can suggest some helpful innovations." He reached out to pat her arm, an unusual gesture coming from him. "It's good to see you take a real interest in something, Duela. I've been a little worried."
Reply
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"A boy?" At that, he frowned again, trying to remember what it was like to be her age. He'd been in college a year or even two at sixteen, and hadn't bothered with the occasional invitation from members of both sexes, too busy with his theories for trivial things like people. Duela, though, had been unduly influenced by Harvey and Nadine, and seemed to want the company of others. She sounded like she wanted some sort of approval. "Did you actually want to go?"
Reply
She shrugged her shoulders. "I told him I didn't want to." She hadn't, really. She hadn't wanted to go, to see the type of movie he'd be interested. Besides, that kind of an outing included the social obligation to talk, and there were too many things that might come up. "It caught me off guard, being asked something like that."
Reply
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