[Gordon and Wayne Residence] When I'm Small

Damian scowls, sitting on the edge of the railing to the loft above the dining area. His back rests against the wall as most of the apartment lays open before him. He has chosen his location with purpose as he is not immediately visible from the front door under the stairs.

A thumb rolls over the circle of his iPod nano, increasing and decreasing the volume by small increments. The bruises across his knuckles ache with the pull, but he doesn't stop. It is the only thing keeping him from trying to run another security check around the apartment. Barbara had sighed during his last check, pausing in her food preparation to stare at the ceiling for a breath before going back to work.

Barbara's warning encourages him to remove one earbud from his ear, letting it dangle against the Phantogram sweatshirt he wears. While it is perfectly his size, the edges, and sleeves are well worn. It is clearly a hand-me-down. He's done research on this Johnny Storm and none of it had been particularly promising or interesting. He isn't sure why his sister is entertaining this 'date' nonsense. Damian highly doubts this strange man will be good enough for her.

A little smirk drifts across his face as his player loads the next song, 'Punk Tactics.'

Barbara goes to her record player, quickly rifling through a few choices. She doesn't collect a whole ton of records, mostly just tries to pick out things that can fill her home warmly. Her eyes drift up to Damian on the ledge, a small smile on her lips. She thinks he is like her, wearing the clothes of people he cares about when he needs a little more support. He doesn't know this, but when she is doing laundry, sometimes she smells his shirts to get through the day. He is a source of great comfort to her. Having him here... she wonders if he is helping her more than she is helping him. 

Barbara hopes he stays for a long while. 

Babs settles on Phantogram, Eyelid Movies. Mouthful of Diamonds fills the home, the beat subtle and weaving through the air pleasingly. It was this, or Nora Jones. The latter felt a bit too romantic. This is the right amount of intimacy.

When the bell rings, Barbara feels her stomach fill with butterflies, each one fluttering against her insides with the softest of wings. She has to stop herself from running to the door. "I got it!" she calls out to Dames, pausing at a mirror to check her appearance for the hundredth time...

Barbara goes to the intercom, interacting briefly with the screen. There is a Johnny on her doorstep. He doesn't know this, but Bruce owns the whole building. It isn't a large space, just a couple apartments that was once a whole townhome and a basement. The lower bowels part is sealed off and only accessible by her, and soon Dames. Her own little bat cave. It houses everything she needs to do her work with the Justice League, including her own telepad. Everything is wheelchair accessible, with an elevator in her wing of the building to get around.

"Hey, come on in," Barbara says through the device, opening her own door for him and buzzing his to unlock. "I'm in here," she says, peeking her head out of her doorframe. She's all smiles. "Glad you could make it, vintage. Didn't get lost?"

He entered the building, making his way up to her door. Deep breaths. Johnny focused, calming himself down. By the time he got to her apaetment door, he was in full confidence mode. For him, it was like slipping on a mask. Johnny gave Babs a wide grin as she poked her head out of the door. He lifted the wine so she could see, waggling his eyebrows.

He stood for a beat, taking in her appearance, the smells of freshly cooked pizza from inside. Music drifted into the hallway, a band he didn't recognise but appreciated as it hit his ears. Johnny was impressed. She'd really gone all out. He peered around her through the crack in the door. Babs seemed a bit... hesitant. Nerves? Or did she have something she wasn't sure about showing him? Johnny had been to many women's abodes, and knew trepidation when he saw it. Not that Babs had anything to fear from advances. He cleared his throat, and nodded to the door.

"So... can I come in? Or do I need to give you blood to pass the threshold?"

Damian shamelessly listens in on the two and he finds a proper Wayne scowl fitting across his mouth. Storm referred to her by 'Ms. Gordon' and layered her in compliments that were both appropriate and correct. He even brought a gift that she seems enthused by. Begrudgingly, he gives Johnny some points for his opening and then an additional one because the man sounds like he means it.

He leans forward with his hands on his knees as Barbara walks under him, mindful to keep his sock-covered feet away from her. While she isn't nearly tall enough for this to be a real concern, he also does not care for the idea of her glaring at him for a perceived slight.

The temptation to stay up on the railing like an ever-watchful hawk is almost too appealing. It is admittedly the best vantage point in the entire apartment. He knows that, if he felt he needs it, Barbara would let him stay up here.

As silently as Lady Shiva had been beating into him, Damian lowers himself off the railing until he is hanging by the bottom rung by one arm. Bored green eyes seek out Johnny-boy before he drops down to the floor on both feet. Damian straightens his shoulders and shutters his expression like he has seen Drake do during social events.

"Mr. Storm. Good of you to join us." He offers a bruised and bandaged hand for a shake. "I am Damian, Ms. Gordon's adored little brother."

"So that's all you had for me...?" Barbara says, chuckling. "I thought you were bringing your A Game to this date, Johnny, color me disappointed," she adds, very clearly teasing him, like she always does. They have built a rapport of this, a back and forth that is heavily skewed to Bab's side. She gets to opening the wine, then pouring it through an aerator into the decanter. It is about then that Damian hops down from his spot, Barbara smiling a bit wider in approval. He could have stayed up there if he wanted to, so she is glad he is giving this a chance. 

"Hey, Dames," Babs says, watching the two. "Hope you don't mind my brother tagging along? He is very adored, as previously mentioned," she says, laughing a little. 

Looking between the two, they could not be more different. Appearance wise, there is nothing in common. He also seems far more serious than Barbara. There is no way they are related by blood. Babs lets them talk for a time, not feeling the need to jump in and save anyone just yet. Johnny seems to be thinking well on his feet, regardless. Lets see how long that lasts. Damian is a peculiar kid. She hopes they get on well. 

"No worries, I am not a pineapple person at all," Babs says, scrunching her nose a little in distaste. She goes over to the sink and starts to wash her hands. "Mind getting the dough out, Dames? I'll toss us the crusts."

"Well, that and my great company. That's my secret, Babs. I'm always on my A game."

Johnny gave Barbara a cheeky wink. He was getting used to her by now. She reminded him of her sister in a lot of ways, especially when she'd been younger. He found a work surface to lean against, where he wouldn't be in the way of their prep work.

"Not at all. The more, the merrier, right, Damian?"

Johnny grinned again at the kid. He loved them, all their quirks and budding personalities. Sue's kids had changed his life when he moved in with them to help his sister out. Johnny really vibed with the youth, even when they told him nobody said that kind of thing and it wasn't even the right expression. He adopted the role of relatable uncle as well as he had adopted the role or superhero. Boil both down, and they're just about keeping people safe and making them smile.

"Vegan, huh. Good choice. Reed - my old boss - he tried to get us all to go vegan once. I couldn't get past the chickpeas! Though the best pizza I ever had was vegan, I think. We'd just saved Rome from Mole Man and the Moloids, and the President was hosting us for a celebration pizza at his mansion. One of the courses was just a base with freshly made sauce, but it was great!"

Johnny paused, checking himself internally. Too much talking about himself? He watched the two siblings interacting, noticing the strange manner of Damian's speech. Like he had never spent time around other kids, an adult in a child's body. There was a story there, but not one Johnny would bring up by himself.

"So do you guys live alone here? It's a really nice pad. Way better than mine on the other side of the city. That's just Jus-"

Johnny stopped. He looked at Babs and down at Damian, then back. He raised an eyebrow; does he know you're in the Justice League? Nearly put your foot in it there, Johnny.

Damian keeps his feet planted as Barbara reaches to tweak his nose, her movements and intentions open to be read. His expression drops as flat as a cake tossed off the side of the Empire State Building. Still, he doesn't fight off her manhandling . He doesn't think it will impact Johnny's impression of him by much. Or maybe it will throw him off entirely and he'll underestimate him—either works.

"The manner in which you make the sauce matters as much as the care you put into the dough. Barbara is a natural at it. Though I am unsurprised that one such as yourself would accept pizza as an award for saving a city."

He says it so simply that it is almost hard to tell if he honestly thinks Johnny runs around accepting food for his work or if he's trying to snub the older man. When Johnny nearly lets slip about the Justice League he loses about 8 points in Damian's opinion of him. Green eyes narrow and he frowns. This man is going to be the end of all their secret identities. And to think, there had been a pool on Damian being the one to do it.

As the conversation turns to James Gordon and Mr. Wayne, tension lines Damian's shoulders, and his eyes look up to the loft. If he's quick, he can grapple to the railing and book it up the stairs to the roof. From there, all of New York would be open to him. His hand is already reaching for where the tool is attached to his hip when Barbara asks him for confirmation on something.

"Right," he agrees on autopilot and moves to where she has left one of the bases. Damian rolls his sleeves up and takes his blank pizza over to the first workstation. On the bed of tomato sauce and vegan cheese, he layers julienned yellow bell peppers, mushrooms, pineapples, and sliced serrano peppers. Each movement is exact and flows as if he were Mark Rothko and the pizza is the defining piece in his oeuvre. He finishes it with a thin drizzle of olive oil.

"Are we using the oven for these or did you invite him here so he can incinerate the pizzas for us?"