DP x DC Writing Prompt #8
The day Bruce Wayne knocks on her apartment door Sam knows it's going to be a doozy.
"Mr. Wayne, I really do hope no one saw you," she says, ushering him in. "And for the record, a text ahead of time would be appreciated."
"I parked the car a few streets away," Bruce says, sticking a finger in his heel to peel his polished leather shoes off. Sam raises an eyebrow. "It's a sedan, not a Lamborghini."
"Taught Dick to drive in it...after he crashed the Lamborghini."
Sam snorts despite herself. The charm Bruce Wayne exhibits would usually rub her the wrong way, too reminiscent of wealthy men that feel comfortable placing a hand on the small of your back at a crowded gala, but Bruce is honest enough about his playacting that she has come to find its insincerity comforting. She's actually sought him out more than once, leading to several annoying headlines that can't seem to decide if she's aiming to date him or one of his eligible sons. None of whom are eligible by the way, as they are a) taken, b) legally dead, c) practically a minor, and d) an actual minor.
Sam's generational wealth is peanuts compared to Wayne Industries, so naturally her parents have been thrilled and rooting for option c.
"I also didn't want Danny to see I'd texted you. Or force you to lie to him."
Sam doesn't quite tense, but it's a near thing. She does slide to the other side of her kitchen island, under the context of finishing prepping her feta fried eggs, laid on a bed of smashed avocado and warm tortilla. She pulls a bottle of crunchy garlic oil out of the fridge and drizzles hot red crisps across the runny yolk. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, not so much as offering him a glass of water.
"You realize, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of lying to Danny now?"
Bruce sits at the stool on the opposite side of the island. "I understand. And if you want to ask Danny to return home before we continue, I'd understand that as well. I didn't mean to discomfit you--"
"Please do not lie to me now, Mr. Wayne," Sam says, rolling her eyes. "By your own admission you showed up at noon without warning knowing my superhero boyfriend wouldn't be present. If I am discomfited, all the more likely you get your information, right?" Golden yolk runs down her fingers, and she sacrifices it to the napkin rather than lick up her arm in front of her boss, with no small amount of resentment. The yolk is the best part.
"Get to it then," she demands.
Bruce straightens in his stool, chin raising and firming in a jawline she most often sees under a cowl. His eyes attempt to pin her in place, but Sam has stared the Master of Time in the face and demand he reschedule so she is built. different. She takes another bite of egg taco.
"I was not aiming for you to feel threatened, and moreover, I doubt you could be."
Except a smart person should always feel threatened by a threat, no matter their capability of handling one. It keeps them alive.
"Can you tell me how I'm not like all the other girls after lunch? You'll spoil my appetite."
Bruce clears his throat. "I'll get to the point--"
"--Danny has been exhibiting paranormal behaviors beyond his baseline. We welcome all biologies; human, alien, and paranormal alike, but I have observed actions unlike what he had previously established as his, for lack of a better word, 'normal'
"I want to make sure he is not experiencing any unwelcome outside influence. Or, if this is merely a facet of his evolution, I'd like to know if this is something we or his family should be monitoring."
Sam has been an eco-consultant with Wayne Industries and unofficially, the Batfamily, for half a year now and this is the most she's ever heard the man speak in one sitting.
"Wow," she says. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?"
"A while." Bruce grunts, voice finally taking that final drop into Batman's gravelly rasp. "I see you're not surprised by any of this."
"No, not really," Sam says. She pours him a tall glass of lemon water from the pitcher, freshly sliced that morning, and he takes a polite sip.
"So what can you tell me?"
"Probably a lot. And Danny would probably prefer that I do, knowing him, the big baby," Sam sighs. "Listen Mr. Wayne, I can appreciate that you came here from a place of caution rather than intrusion. And if Danny was undergoing something negative or from an 'unwelcome outside influence' that would be the right call, and I, albeit begrudgingly, encourage you to do so in the future."
"He's not," Sam confirms. "And in fact, I think he could really use someone to talk to about it. Outside of his family."
"I see..." Bruce says, shifting.
"If you want to tag team this one with one of the higher EQ players, such as Superman, I give you permission." Sam does not think she's imagining that slight sag of relief.
"Thank you," Bruce says, sliding off the stool. "I don't suppose you have material we could consult...?"
"Actually yes, I happen to have a pamphlet right here. 'So your ghostly body is changing, and how.'"
"You're being more sarcastic than usual."
"You interrupted my lunch, Mr. Wayne."
