@felineae WANTS TO PUT A DENT IN CRIME.
“Bruce, where are you? You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago!”
“I’m sorry, Harvey, but something came up. I won’t be able to make it tonight.”
Harvey paced back and forth outside the conference room, stopping when a well-dressed couple walked by. He quickly hid his cellphone behind his back and squared his shoulders, flashing them one of his winning smiles along with a polite, “hi, how are you folks doing tonight?” — then resumed his anxious footwork as soon as they were out of sight.
“What do you mean, ‘something came up?’ Bruce, this is it — I’m officially running for mayor! How do you think it’s going to look to the voters when the guy who’s funding my entire campaign doesn’t show up to support me in person?”
“Harv, listen to me: you’re going to be fine. These are the same people who elected you to be their district attorney, remember? They came to see Harvey Dent, not Bruce Wayne.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay... I’m sorry; I guess I’m just all nerves tonight, you know?”
Harvey's eyes drifted towards the courthouse’s entrance, perking up at just how many people were still lining up to pass through the security check point. He scanned the crowd of familiar faces — fellow members of Gotham’s bar association, other elected officials, even a handful of Gordon’s people — but settled on the one person he didn’t recognize: HER.
“ — how does that sound, Harvey? ... Harvey? Harv, are you there?”
“... What? Oh! Uh, yeah, fundraiser at Wayne Manor, that’s — that’s a great idea! Hey, Bruce? I have to go, uh, shake some hands, now, but we’ll talk later, okay?”
“Okay... Harvey, are you sure you’re — ” Click.
Harvey slipped his phone back into the inner pocket of his jacket, and took a deep breath. “All right, Harvey,” he murmured to himself as he adjusted his tie, “time to go win some votes.” Armed with his best ‘politician smile,’ the mayoral hopeful began to work his way through the crowd, greeting several enthusiastic Gothamites before finally reaching the woman he’d spotted a few minutes ago ( and whom he’d kept a close eye on since ).
“You know what I love about election season?” Harvey asked, his smile easing into something more genuine as she turned around. “I always get to meet a new face. Harvey Dent,” he said, offering his hand to the woman, “Gotham’s district attorney and, if I’m lucky, its next mayor.”
“Can I count on your vote, Miss...?”