The Wayne Foundation's Annual ... What Was It Again, Alfred?

[_darkknight_]

At least once a year, stately Wayne Manor is brightly illuminated because of the charitable tradition in the family. This particular affair was started when Thomas and Martha Wayne were still alive, intended to benefit the Children's Hospital of Gotham

Comments

[_nightwing_]

His ward happens to be perched on the dresser, fidgeting with his clothes. He doesn't like them. They're restrictive. The shoes are brand new, and they feel restrictive too. He doesn't much like this, period, and it shows as he almost visibly squirms around, impatient. He's nine years old, and while he's usually more mature for his age than most, tonight he's downright whiny.

Do I -have- to go down there?

[_darkknight_]

"We're in this together, old chum." Bruce eyes his handiwork in the mirror, pulls on his tuxedo jacket, then combs his fingers through his hair. "How do I look? Stupid, right?"

[_nightwing_]

His fidgeting has skewed his own outfit. Alfred will have a conniption. But he grins back suddenly at the older man.

You look like a penguin.

[_darkknight_]

"Funny. What the... C'mere." Bruce holds his hands out to Dick. "You're already messed up. You want Alfred blaming me for that? Think that'd be funny?"

[_nightwing_]

Dick pauses near the top of the stairs, looking down into the throng of feather boas, 'penguin suits', glittering diamonds and animal furs. That last thing he doesn't much care for. It looks better on the animal than on some overpowdered snob. He kneels, resting his forehead against the banister as he watches. Not so long ago, he'd be all about getting to be the center of attention. But back then, he'd be high above them, flying above their heads. Here, he's acutely aware of how small he is.

His hand wanders to the pocket inside his tux coat. Then he frowns, as he realizes it's empty. The straw he'd appropriated from the kitchen - and that was no mean feat, given Alfred's hawk-like supervision - was gone. He scowls. Mr. Wayne must have taken it.

Well, there went his chance of entertainment for the night. No point putting it off. He gets back to his feet, curling his toes inside his shoes, and walks down the stairs into the sea of adults.

[femme_du_chat]

Bruce Wayne's place. Hrm. Selina looks around. She's impressed with security, the obvious and the not so obvious. She has a feeling that there are even things she's not seeing. She's not here for that. Not tonight at least. No, tonight she's playing among the rich. She's watching them, looking at them, mingling among them.

And maybe pickpocketing a bit from them. Just a bit.

Still, this is quite a feat, to manage to get here, to something like this in such a short period of time... She is happy wth herself.

[_nightwing_]

There's a distinct presence suddenly at her elbow.

You might wanna put that back.

It's very matter-of-fact, and self-assured.

[femme_du_chat]

Selina looks down at the presence at her elbow and arches a brow at who she finds there. "Put what back?" And the bracelet he saw her take isn't anywhere he can see anymore. Maybe she did put it back already.

There can't be many places to hide it on her person.

[_alfred_]

"Sir?" Alfred approaches the master of the cave. "There is a difficulty requiring your attention, sir."

[_darkknight_]

"Just a minute, Alfred." On the computer, various grids of Gotham City are shown.

The police reports seem, at best, bland. All's quiet on the Gotham front.

[_alfred_]

"In another minute, it may be too late, sir." The butler pauses for maximum effect. "Master Richard is wandering about unsupervised, and talking to a beautiful woman who did not, to the best of my knowledge, arrive with a legitimate invitation."

[_darkknight_]

Bruce turns to peer at his butler. "He's behaving, isn't he?"

Beat.

"How beautiful?"

[_nightwing_]

-- An' I can stand on one hand, like this!

It's a little tougher in a tux, but he's doing it anyway; which draws more than a few stares from the throng of Gotham's social elite.

[femme_du_chat]

Selina is laughing. She's loving it but she is also noticing the attention it is drawing and is trying to think of a way to tell him he might want to stop without hurting his feelings.

She's really bad at this sort of thing.

"You're drawing something of a crowd, here."

[_darkknight_]

Bruce isn't going to laugh. He is NOT going to laugh.

Nope, not laughing.

This is the master of the house, not smiling at Dick.

[_nightwing_]

Oblivious to the attention - after all, he thrives on it - Dick begins walking on his hands.

[_nightwing_]

A few hours - and a few million dollars later - Dick and his, er, 'date', are to be found in the parlor on the chaise lounge.

Dick is asleep, his head in Selina's lap; tux mussed beyond repair. He's lost his bow tie somewhere (it'll turn up hanging off the chandelier later).

Some date.

[femme_du_chat]

Selina's not entirely certain how to extricate herself from him without waking him up. She isn't exactly thinking that she can just stay here and standing up seems unlikely as well.

[_darkknight_]

Hands reach down and, with impressive and maybe surprising gentleness, pluck the young man from Selina's lap.

"He can sleep through anything," he observes in a low, bemused voice.

[femme_du_chat]

"I'll remember that for our next date." Selina looks up toward Bruce but doesn't stand up just yet.