|
|
Post by DornKoon on Aug 25, 2024 11:48:39 GMT
Being up at night was nothing new for those living in the Wayne Manor. For several reasons, the family and their allies had a habit of sleeping at odd hours... if they even slept at all. Alfred, while not a hero out punishing criminals, often found a need to be productive during the late evening when he knew several of the children were out, waiting for them to return, preferably in one piece. This evening, he was cleaning the mansion's crystal glass collection, and before him was a wide array of any glass one might need, including wine, whiskey, and champagne, with the rest glimmering inside the cupboards like hundreds of diamonds.  The elderly butler gently took a red wine glass and, using a lint-free cloth, removed any unwanted water spots and residue, being careful not to miss anything. There was skill in each motion, and Alfred took great pride in his ability to make each glass sparkle. It was NOT as easy as it looked, and too much pressure would cause the delicate glass to break. Once satisfied with the polish, he rinsed it with warm water from a small tap, drying it off and buffing it softly with a coffee filter to give it that extra shine. With a nod of satisfaction, Alfred put the glass among the others. After collecting another, he started the process again. He glanced at the old clock hanging on the wall a few times. It was climbing closer to midnight with each passing minute, and Master Bruce was occupied with his new duties, which seemed to keep him even busier than when he was Batman. No less dangerous, just different. With all the parties and social events, Alfred was happy his Master decided to focus more on his social life, but it was less about the fun and more about the politics. Bruce even insisted on hiring temp workers to work as servers during these soirees. Alfred reluctantly agreed but was firm in keeping them away from the mansion's holiest, such as the silver. It was enough with the lawn service keeping the grounds, and the occasional cleaners keeping check on the mansions more public areas. Still, even he had to admit it was helpful having a few extra hands around, even if his butler pride would forbid him from admitting it. Alfred also knew that the children, especially the younger ones, did not much appreciate participating in these stunts, but in the end, they all had to grin and bear it. It was what Master Bruce wanted. |
|
|
|
Post by Nomz on Sept 4, 2024 12:31:29 GMT
It had been easy enough to lose Barbara as they entered the manor, almost too easy. A wise voice in his head acknowledges that she had let him go, confident that he would still come home with her after or- worse, hopeful that he would find a reason to stay in Gotham. Damian withholds a sigh as he glances up and down the long, dark hallway again. The ancient walls hold no new secrets. Unnaturally green eyes look down at the yellow rectangle of light coming from the room beside him.
Something he refuses to call nervousness settles on his shoulders as he waits. He hadn't said goodbye to Pennyworth when he set out on his own from the manor and he certainly hadn't said goodbye to any of the family when he left Gotham for New York City. Damian fully believes that Barbara had let Grayson know at the very least.
The youngest Wayne ignores the urge to run his hands through his hair, opting to keep them tucked into the pockets of his black nondescript hoodie. He knows he needs to hurry up if he plans to speak to Pennyworth and avoid coming across the family. He can almost hear the lecture if Grayson finds him or the disappointment from Brown. Dealing with their emotions is far beyond what he wants to deal with, but he does not yet know that their indifference would be a heavier burden.
Right. Damian straightens his back, levels his shoulders, and steps into the room beyond. He keeps his posture loose and uninterested even as he speaks up.
"Pennyworth, working late I see." He doesn't pause as he takes careful steps up to the much older man, looking only politely curious about his work. "Did Mr. Wayne not hire additional help?"
|
|
|
|
Post by DornKoon on Sept 4, 2024 14:11:26 GMT
"Good evening, Master Damian," said Alfred, glancing over at the youngest Wayne, constantly needing to remind himself that he was not looking into the past. If Alfred was surprised, he did a remarkable job of hiding it. In all honesty, he was surprised to see Damian, he had been under the impression that he was with Barbara. "Working into the night has ever been a hallmark of this household, I would be remiss if I did not follow suit."
Alfred made a brief pause at Damian's question.
"He did," Alfred replied, putting away one glass and collecting another. "But I was very clear with your father that I wanted to handle certain things myself. I'm sure I do not need to tell you about the dangers of letting strangers touch things like unguarded wine glasses, Master Damian?" As he said this, he held the glass up to the light, causing it to glitter. Many poisons could be secretly applied to an unguarded glass, and even remain there for a good while until used. Bruce had made himself an even more tempting target with his new venture into politics, so one could never be too careful. " Besides, I don't trust that the hired help won't accidentally break them."
|
|
|
|
Post by Bixir on Sept 5, 2024 4:28:48 GMT
Cassandra wandered through the manor, in her own way, on her own time. Though Barbara had not said as much, Cassandra had surmised that it would be better if she had not come with her and Damian. She did not want to cause any more trouble. Barbara had spoken - quite recently, in fact - about how that thinking was not productive, or healthy. Cassandra understood that. That did not make it any more difficult to avoid as she ambled through the empty halls. She was wearing a black crop top with a Batman symbol, and a dull yellow dance jersey underneath. Worn black leggings covered Cassandra below her waist, then black Converse shoes on her feet. It was one of the outfits Stephanie had picked out for her the... last time that she had been in Gotham.
It did not take long for the echoes of Alfred and Damian to reach Cassandra's ears. The manor was big, but it was not that big. Soon, she was in the shadow of that room, standing adjacent to the far wall, in thought. She did not avoid looking at Damian, though her attention was on Alfred. When was the last time that they had seen one another?... that they had said words to one another? She wasn't ready for that answer. Not yet.
|
|
|
|
Post by Nomz on Sept 7, 2024 2:44:23 GMT
Damian nods slowly at Pennyworth's words, both in acknowledgment and acceptance. It is beyond wise to make sure that the glassware in particular is not tampered with. Still, there is a slight discomfort in his chest at the idea of the elderly man working late into the night all alone.
The young man steps up to where the glasses are kept. He pushes up his sleeves before reaching for the lint-free cloth and another glass. His smaller hands make reaching into the depths of the glass all the easier, but he is not quite as skilled as Pennyworth. What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in determination and attention to detail.
"Barbara doesn't require us to polish glasses," he says as if that is the most important thing in the world at this moment. Maybe it is. He's talking about living with Barbara. Damian lifts a glass to Pennyworth for a second inspection. "She lets me take my classes online as well. We have a kitten. His name is Gordon. He is inquisitive and a proud hunter."
Little shards of his life. Pieces he doesn't think Pennyworth would have.
"....how is the family?"
|
|
|
|
Post by DornKoon on Sept 7, 2024 10:49:27 GMT
Alfred did not stop the young Wayne; he only glanced as he came over to assist in the cleaning and returned to working on his own glass. He did not say anything, but he found the boy's presence comforting for several reasons more than even Damian would understand. "It is funny, Master Bruce and I used to do this at times," Alfred said with a slight smile. "Back when he was your age. He'd have terrible trouble sleeping and often spent time with me like this in the evenings." The musings of an old man perhaps, but he felt it needed to be said.
He listened as Damian told him about living with Barbara, nodding in approval at the glass.
"No, I do not believe Miss Barbara requires such a vast collection of hand-blown glasses." Alfred gently put away his glass, reaching for another. "Sounds like you and this Master Gordon have much in common. An inquiring mind is as great a weapon as anyone can ask for; it helps us question things when we feel they should not be."
Alfred took a moment to reflect on the question before he answered: how was the family?
"I believe most of them are out on patrol; they work hard, but the rogues of Gotham have grown emboldened with the absence of Batman, and people like Doctor Crane are not making things any easier. As for Master Bruce, he is out; I believe there was some charity he needed to go to." Alfred examined Damian for a moment before sighing. If he had noticed Cassandra, he would not have shown it and made no indication if he knew she was standing inside the room.
|
|
|
|
Post by Countess on Sept 8, 2024 22:20:40 GMT
Barbara walks slowly through the halls of Wayne Manor, not worried about Damian. She will catch up, and he will always pause to look back and make sure she is following. This place had never been much of a home for her, but rather a place in-between. Almost like a hotel, housing her for short periods of time, tinged with the feelings of work and responsibility. She knows these halls well, though not as well as the other, more permanent, residents. Alfred had always made sure to make her feel welcome here, but there was always a tinge of the Outsider that she had when being here. She didn't need a home, she didn't need a father figure, she didn't need a family. Though, she had embraced them as such, she felt more like she had "married" in than a true flesh and blood member like Dick, Cass, and Damian.
Barbara sighs, finding herself missing this part of Gotham, but not much more. It is her home, but it carries with it painful memories she would rather bury. How had Bruce stayed here, after what happened to his parents? Now, more than ever, can she imagine this place was a crypt, a monument to what he lost. That is what her home is for her, too. But... one difference between them...
He stayed.
Barbara carefully enters the one room with light, not hiding herself or keeping to the shadows. Sneaking about, while in her toolbelt so to speak, was never something she did among family.
"Alfred! I hope you don't mind us stopping by, there were a few things we wanted to grab and figured we should say hi while we were here," Barbara says, jovial, shaking out the cobwebs of grief. She eyes Damian, a smile on her lips, then she shares a knowing look with Alfred. She and he had always been on a similar wavelength. "Shame about Bruce. We will have to time it better next time," she says, full well knowing she had timed it to avoid him. Damian isn't quite ready for that ambush.
"How are you, Alfred?" Barbara asks, looking about. She is looking for things to help with, and she spots Cass quiet in the recesses. She smiles at her, too. The longer she stays in the shadows, the longer Damian will be betrayed... but he also won't be so willing to share. A catch-22.
Barbara opts for the long term relationship.
"Hey Cass! When did you get in? Nothing too crazy on the streets?" Barbara asks, starting to tidy up a little.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bixir on Sept 11, 2024 6:57:12 GMT
Cassandra locked eyes with Barbara, and she smiled back. Seeing her here was, like always, comforting. For a moment, she forgot her worries. Then, she was quickly reminded of them. The girl blinked at being called out, not sure whether to be grateful or anxious for the illusion being shattered. She was not certain if she would have been able to do it on her own. Perhaps that was why... Barbara had asked her a question.
"Just now." She rubbed her arm, stepping forward, into more visible surroundings. She picked up a loose dust cloth and started to sand the countertops. "Not tonight. Last week, though..." Her eyes narrowed. Already she was thinking of her duties. That was easier than the bird-shaped elephant in the room. "Stopped a gang from blowing up a building. Still- figuring out why."
|
|
|
|
Post by Nomz on Sept 12, 2024 0:18:56 GMT
A delicate frown rests on his lips as Damian listens to Pennyworth share his musing about a younger Mr. Wayne. That frown is erased with the older man's nod of approval and Damian reaches for the coffee filter to polish the glass further. He is quiet as Pennyworth addresses his question about the family and another is on his tongue when he hears Barbara.
His confusion only shows in the pinch of his brow and the slowing of his polishing. Of all people, Barbara would have known when Mr. Wayne was home. She would have been able to plan it out for them to arrive while he was there...but- His shoulders relax out of the tense line they have been in since they entered Gotham.
Damian chooses to have faith in his oldest sister. He decides to believe that she had planned this trip around Mr. Wayne and there is a seed of gratitude in his chest at the idea. That all vanishes when he hears her address Cain. Stress claws up the boy's spine and the glass in his hands creaks softly in distress.
He fights the urge to comment or turn to acknowledge Cain at all, even as his shoulders crawl up to his ears. How long had she been there? How much had she heard? Was she ever going to reveal herself or had she stalked in the shadows like an assassin? A very small voice in his head reminds him that this is Cain's home. She can move about it as she likes. It is that idea that his mind clings to suddenly.
This is Cain's home. Damian had given it up.
"Yes, shame about Mr. Wayne. Perhaps we'll be fortunate enough to catch him next time, Pennyworth." A lie slips free of him even as he forces his hands to relax over the glass, preventing the stem from snapping.
"I am sure you'll figure it out, Cain. You are the best of them." He doesn't turn away from his task as he speaks, finding it easier to talk without eye contact. Damian isn't lying. He does think Cain is the best of the batfamily and it stings less to admit it when he doesn't consider himself one of them. "You could always ask the others for help."
|
|
|
|
Post by DornKoon on Sept 12, 2024 11:42:19 GMT
"Ah, Miss Barbara," Alfred said with a gentile smile. Apart from Bruce, Barbara was the member of the "family" she'd spent the most time with over the years, especially when she was bound to her chair, and spent most of the time in front of the computer in the Batcave during the missions. "Not at all; this is your home, even if you're always not here. Besides, I fear there is such a thing as too calm, and it becomes very calm with everyone out and about. Not counting Master Bruce's so-called guests, I fear for the future of our nation if those are the politicians making the decisions. At least in Parliament back in London, there could be a good brawl occasionally to spice the proceedings up a bit."
When asked how he was, the butler gave the question some thought.
"I am in excellent health, even more so when we consider that I'm creeping slowly towards my 70s, so I will have to count my blessings."
When she made her presence known, he looked to Cassandra and momentarily looked to Damian at the boy's reaction. The butler calmly pulled a fresh, lint-free cloth from a drawer and gave it to Damian. It might seem meaningless, but it was done to break Damian out of the mulling thought that Alfred could see behind those severe eyes. He was his father's son, alright. "Perhaps," he did not say more about Mr Wayne, but he could not blame Damian for being upset; if anything, Master Bruce had not handled things as well as he should have.
"I find a fresh perspective usually helps me," Alfred told Cassandra. "Did something seem different or stand out about this gang, the place, or the method they planned to do it? Depending on these factors, we can scratch some of the obvious culprits." The rogues and gangs of Gotham enjoyed their quirks and calling cards, be it The Riddler, Joker, or others who, in different ways, wanted people to know when they did things.
|
|
|
|
Post by Countess on Sept 13, 2024 1:26:05 GMT
Barbara relishes for the moment fading into the background. She doesn't mind it- this is a situation where she knows she is the safety net for Damian and Cass, with Alfred serving as the ever patient facilitator. They have played these parts before, but with different actors. Bruce and Dick, Dick and Jason, Tim and Steph... It always works out, in the end. Barbara isn't sure where she would be in this family without Alfred. She owes him the greatest debt, though he would never accept it.
So, she helps clean, helps tidy up, helps keep the family together. One team, one fight. The others will understand it, in time, like they do.
"America had their brawls, too, once upon a time. I recall the caning of Senator Charles Sumner by Preston Brooks, a pro-slavery Democrat from South Carolina. He still came in, Senator Sumner, to vote against it. A man of much more sterner stuff, I think, to stand up for what is right, despite his injuries," Barbara says, simply being a part of the conversation. It is comfortable, it is easy.
From there, she listens. She can't answer everything, and the more Dames and Cass work together... the better.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bixir on Sept 13, 2024 5:57:09 GMT
"Mister Wayne."
Not "Father". Cassandra's heart sank. She did not have many words, though she certainly had no words to express those feelings. The pain flashed ascross her face for a moment. Damian likely did not see it. That was for the best. She needed to stay focused. More than missions against criminals and assassins, being alert in conversation (especially conversation with family) was vital. Just so. She would have missed her brother's other comment. The best of us. It does not feel earned. It is welcome regardless, as Cassandra eventually smiled once she had accepted the words.
"We could... do patrols." Cassandra's dusting of the countertops quickened, aggressively so, as she forced the words out. No gimmicks. Just... bombs. Criminals."
|
|
|
|
Post by Nomz on Sept 14, 2024 1:31:49 GMT
Damian's train of thought doesn't go much further as he sees the cloth Pennyworth is offering him. He blinks before reaching for it and accepting it wordlessly. He repeats the motion of setting down his glass in favor of a new one, lifting it and slowly starting the process of polishing. The monotonous task seems to ease some of the tension in him and his shoulders come down from his ears.
There is peace to be found in the calm tones of Barbara and Pennyworth, even with Cain being so near. It's almost enough to keep him from reacting to Cain repeating his words. The glass does not make a sound as Damian sets it down and it is a testament to the control he has that he doesn't immediately leave. Instead, the lad moves over to see what Barbara is working on and if he can help her. Even if it means hindering her.
"Bombs," he asks flatly, a hint of a man dedicated to the job coming out despite himself. He's skipped over her mention of patrolling together entirely. "Are they a group of bombers? Any correlation between the places they have hit? Are you the only one working on this?"
Damian pauses before continuing, "Pennyworth, you have been in Gotham more than I have. What are your thoughts? What is your experience dealing with groups like this?"
|
|
|
|
Post by DornKoon on Sept 18, 2024 9:20:11 GMT
Alfred listened as the youngsters began to talk about the bombing, casually continuing to clean without interrupting them. "To stand up for once beliefs can be powerful, even more against injustice." He replied to Barbara, "I recall the caning of Eric Wildman. It was during the 1950s, and he was a man very much into the idea that beating a child was the perfect solution. He considered himself to be the Crusader for corporal punishment." Alfred paused, turning the glass over. "One will imagine the man publishing obscure articles on the necessity of caning children. But no, Wildman’s main activity was the production of weapons for chastisement, such as canes. During his “mission,” he gave lectures on his principles and techniques in various schools. Supporters and opponents often attended these, frequently ending in disorder."
Alfred buffered the glass before returning it to the other clean ones.
"Not refusing an invitation to lecture, it so happened that he fell into a trap set for him in one of the schools where he was invited to talk and demonstrate his methods of imposing school discipline to the assembled scholars. It all happened in Horsley Hall, a British school for boys – as he was talking, the headmaster made a secret sign, and a group of the boys crept up behind him, grabbed him, pinned him down, and then began beating him with his canes. The assault had been planned by the school’s headmaster, who was strongly anti-caning. He had decided to give Wildman a taste of his own medicine. Wildman threatened to sue the school but never did. Neither had he given up his mission. The incident was reported in newspapers, including TIME magazine." Alfred cleared his throat, "Suffice it to say, his reputation took a turn, and he was later charged with 17 counts of publishing obscene libels"
He gave Barbara a slightly dry smile before turning his attention to Damian, taking his question seriously.
"Well, Master Damian, Batman occasionally dealt with bombers, and it usually depended on what place was targeted or how the bombing was done. Since we can rule out the gimmicks, that does remove the more... colourful suspects."
|
|
|
|
Post by Countess on Sept 18, 2024 14:47:37 GMT
This is a part of her late teens and early adulthood that Barbara misses. Alfred always has the best stories, both real and fictional. She wonders if it comes from raising Bruce, making sure to have something on hand to tell him, to talk about. It helps that more often than not, there is a little moral to the story. Though they cannot live through these things, there is still something deeper to learn and internalize. Alfred's dry smile is met with a thankful one of her own. They can tag team this, surely. The relationship can be healed, and she is going to gently work towards it all.
"There is always a reason why," Barbara says from where she is in the room. "The bombings, I mean. Sometimes, you have to figure that out first, before finding out the who," she offers. How many times has she heard that from Bruce? "Once you find a pattern, and there almost certainly is one... you work from there. Once you have that, you can focus patrols, you can look into individuals, you can investigate as a civie..." Barbara says, giving a shrug. "Have you talked to Tim about data processing?" she asks, pulling in another of the family. None of them could say no to asking for help- not when they are at a stand still like this, right? It means more people getting hurt because of their ego.
|
|
