3323/You're not my supervisor!

You're not my supervisor!
Date of Scene:	06 December 2017
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Bruce Wayne asks Mariam to step down. She agrees. Then things get strange when he changes his mind and shares his secret. Sort of.
Cast of Characters:	Mariam O'Shea, Batman

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Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    With his propensity to slip away from his bodyguard, somehow, Mariam has decided that the only way Bruce Wayne might be safe is if he can keep himself that way. Which means the man needs to learn how to fight. Unfortunately, that isn't his "thing" --his words, not hers-- so she has the feeling he won't even show up. She had spent the day catching up on her own sleep after looking for him over 20 hours two days ago. Then the Christmas party had happened so she'd been up a fair amount of time. So she shceduled this training session two days later, in the afternoon since he wouldn't even be awake until noon. At least that seemed to be his time for waking up.
    She is currently waiting in the gym inside Wayne Manor, dressed in attire that she wears at home when working out. It is not what she would normally wear when she is going to be seen by other people. She's simply not that type. This time it was a choice though in an attempt to send a message. The shorts and sports bra leave a lot of her skin exposed, showing off taut toned muscles that are completely hidden beneath her usual choice of skirt suit.
    It also shows off the many scars marring her body. There are a variety of them, from a single gunshot wound in her shoulder near the clavicle, a jagged scar on her thigh that looks like it may have been a knife of some sort and a myriad of others. The worst and freshest are on her lower back, since they were gained a few months back when she was stabbed several times. She is working the heavy bag, a sheen of sweat covering her body as she takes advantage of the facilities even if he doesn't show up.

Batman has posed:
    Emerging at the crack of noon, Bruce Wayne met some of Mariam's expectations while failing to meet others. For the time she's known him he had never awoken earlier than this, had rarely followed a routine of sorts, had accepted his breakfast often in his bedroom, and only occasionally was seen stalking the halls of Wayne Manor in any functional way until the evening.
    But this 'morning' was slightly different for him.
    "Ms. O'Shea is awaiting you in the gymnasium, Master Bruce."
    Which had triggered a small measure of reflection and discussion. But it was best to not avoid Ms. O'Shea when he had a choice in the matter, just in case in the future he would have to save an excuse for an actual emergency. So it was with a touch of reluctance that he had dressed and emerged, ready to face the day as it were. Or rather face the bodyguard.
    She had been working out for a good chunk of time, and he was naturally late. But he entered the gym from the large double doors, strolling into that rather large two story room with its almost turn of the century equipment. There were medicine balls, old weights, leather and canvas boxing equipment, even gymnastics rings and a pommel horse. Any one of the items could most likely be turned around and sold to an antiques dealer for a hearty chunk of change....
    So when Bruce Wayne entered, wearing a loose and baggy grey sweat suit and holding his phone in his hand as he swipes his thumb over its display, it's positively anachronistic against the tableau of the room.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    The thud of her leg or fist hitting the bag is loud, punctuated with a grunt at times as Mariam put in maximum effort to work her limbs. It was all about the physicality, driving her body further and harder each time she worked out. As she turned to give another kick, her shin slamming into the bag, she caught sight of Bruce entering the room. She stood there a moment on one foot, leg extended against the bag, staring at him behind those mirrored glasses. They were on her face as usual, protecting her eyes from the light. Her lips twisted down in a frown as she lowered her foot to the floor.
    "Thank you for joining me, Mr. Wayne. You can leave the phone over there on the table. You won't be needing it for a while." She picks up a towel from nearby, dabbing her her face then flipping it over her shoulder as she walked over to meet him. She crossed her arms, biceps flexing slightly with the movement. "Are you ready to start?"

Batman has posed:
    As Bruce advances into the room and Mariam speaks to him he holds up a finger towards her as if asking for her patience. He continues to stare at the phone, thumb lightly tapping a few times on the screen as he types out his message. It takes a bit of time, ten seconds... fifteen... twenty. But then he lowers the finger and taps the phone's screen one last time and then looks up, features coming to life as he smiles towards her. "Sorry about that. Business."
    Of course as he casually sets the phone off to the side on the bench there's a rather visible face of a tall blonde in a swimsuit and her number on screen just before the display goes blank.
    But once he's unencumbered from the phone he steps back towards her and says, "Hello, Mariam. Good morning." He stifles a small yawn with one hand. "Alfred told me I should meet with you for a bit." His hands rest on his hips as he asks, "What did you need?"

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Punching an employer in the face to prove a point would be inappropriate.
    Mariam reminds herself of that silently. Twice.
    "Good afternoon," she replies, as she does every day when he says those words to her. The life of the rich and idle. If only she had such woes. What would it be like to sleep until whenever she wanted and spend her time out partying or just wasting time. Instead of working. And almost dying for people that didn't appreciate it.
    "I need you to make a decision, here and now. You have two choices the way I see it." She tilts her head slightly, her hair bound at the back of her head in a messy ponytail thanks to the efforts of her workout so far. "You can either a) stop ditching me. Or b) Learn to defend yourself. If you choose the first one, I still recommend you learning something about protecting yourself in case I get taken out by an attacker." She says it matter-of-factly. It's the job. Give her life for his. With previous clients she has proven she would. It hasn't come to that yet with this assignment. "If you choose the second, then we will be working out every afternoon when you get up to start teaching you the basics of self defense." Her smile is tight and a not really as nice of an expression as it should be.
    "So, which would you prefer, Mr. Wayne?"

Batman has posed:
    "Well," Bruce smiles that rather warm smile of his, looking in some ways like some hapless school boy who had been caught skipping class. "I'd argue with your warning first, Ms. O'Shea. I haven't been 'ditching' you, it's not an intentional thing." It is. "It just sort of has happened a few times. What?"
    He stops and opens his hands towards her, "Like twice? I mean that's hardly a trend really. I'll promise you to make a conscious effort to try and not inconvenience you in the future." He takes a deep breath and then exhales it in a rather so put upon sigh, "But only if you make a promise to me. That you'll try to do a better job of this. I don't know what it is, but sometimes you seem so outside of yourself, Ms. O'Shea. I really don't know."
    Dirty pool, assuredly. Impugning her and her ability. But then again perhaps /that/ will be the straw to break the back of her tolerance for the man. If she were to grow angry and quit that she can't work with him... well that would solve the issue wouldn't it?

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    As he implies Mariam's problem is her not doing her job well enough, she sees red. The world just gets a lovely tinge around it as her frown deepens. "Mr. Wayne," she begins in a rather clipped tone, the preciseness of her speech exaggerated but that being the only indication of her annoyance. Others, it would show in their voice. Not with her. She doesn't go into flames when she gets angry. Instead she turns into a glacier as everything in her stills, going cold as ice. That is what the speech gives away, that frigidity. "I am damn good at my job. I have been doing this for several years and I have almost given my life for a client just over six months ago. I never had a client manage to evade me and I don't care how innocent you want to try to play things with me, that is what you are doing. Now, if it is simply because you want to hook up with your random models or starlets, you needn't be embarassed at your lack of taste because I have signed a contract that will not allow me to speak of what I see or hear. I can wait outside the hotel room or your room if that is the case. It wouldn't be the first time and I promise not to tell of your prowess or lack thereof in your performance."
    If he is going to impugn her, she'll hit him right back. "But since I am so awful at my job, you elected for option B. Take off your shoes and meet me on the mats." And with that she literally turns her back on him and walks out into the center of the mats that dominate the floor, giving him a good view of the strength of her back along with those puckered new scars.

Batman has posed:
    "Is this just going to be an excuse for you to hit me?" Bruce Wayne murmurs with perhaps a surprising abundance of insight going against character. But his smile returns quickly and easily offered, still that charming roll of voice to him even as he spreads his hands helplessly. "But seriously, Ms. O'Shea. I'll try not to leave you out of my social plans, however peripheral you are to them. But really, every day?"
    He protests, yet he does step out of those bright bright white sneakers that look as if they've never seen a day of use. He rubs at his arms as he steps onto the mats and affects a distinctly uncomfortable look to him while he eyes his surroundings. "Maybe we should turn up the heater? It's a bit chilly in here." He complains.
    And then he steps softly on the mats a bit further into the room and adds, "Hm, could we get softer mats?" He looks off to the side back towards his phone as if he were going to place the order now.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    "I'm not going to hit you. Yet." Mariam says as he finally starts onto the mats. She watches the way he moves and realizes she has a lot of work ahead of her. He has no concept apparently. Probably has never gotten in a fight in his life. Maybe his butler handled fighting for him. The idea amuses her and she has to keep from smirking at the image of the aging butler facing off with bullying ten-year-olds. Once he gets on the mats, she has her arms hanging lightly at her sides.
    "Chilly?" She's wearing very little and he's in a sweatsuit. Then he mentions the mats and that is the final straw. "These mats are more than enough for what we are going to be doing. "If you get attacked out on the street, there won't be any mats for you to fall on. See? These mats seem wonderful compared to concrete or asphalt."
    A hint of a smile appears. "Alright. I want you to try to hit me, Mr. Wayne. Simple as that. I will not hit you back. I just what I'm starting with. Have you ever been in a fight at all? Other than on the X-Box, which is not a sport so don't try it." Not that she's ever seen him on one but her last client seemed to think video game sports counted.

Batman has posed:
    A deep breath is taken as he listens to her words but he at least gives the semblance of paying attention to them. He gives a small nod and flares his hands towards her, as if surrendering to her superior reasoning about the relative softness of the mats. "Alright, alright. I understand your heart's in the right place, Ms. O'Shea, just this isn't..." He waves a hand slightly, "How I'd like to spend my free-time." Which, in a way, is perhaps the most honest thing he's said to her.
    he mats crunch under his feet as he moves gingerly to the side and pushes the sleeves of his sweat shirt up his arms. "Are you sure about this? Shouldn't we start with something like... jumping jacks? Or something?"
    As he says this, however, he steps up towards her and draws his fist back, taking in his breath sharply just before he throws a punch that looks rather clearly like it belongs on a Hollywood movie. Good for the pictures, good for perhaps a stunt man, bad for an actual fight.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    "We could start with some stretches and the like but honestly, this is just me seeing if you have any training at all. Since you haven't mentioned any, I'm doubting it. Perhaps you should sign up with your son for martial arts classes?" Mariam suggests.
    The punch is sad and pitiful. She just brings up her arm in a block, keeping it from getting anywhere close to her body as her forearm sends the arm back and to the side with the force of her movement. "Really? That looked like it would be great in an old western movie during the bar brawl scene. Not so much for real life."
    She thinks a moment then Mariam smiles. "Tell you what? How about a deal? You manage to hit me, you don't have to waste your free-time doing this anymore? And I don't mean like our arms just meeting in a block. I mean if you honest to goodness connect a punch or a kick, you are free to continue your happy little life of doing ...whatever it is you do."

Batman has posed:
    "But..." Bruce straightens up a little, his fist lowering a bit as his guard drops a touch. Only a moment though as he brings his fists up, taking up what he figured a boxer's stance looks like apparently. He stands facing her, hips turned slightly, right hand a little higher than the other. "I don't want to hit you, O'Shea." He says with that same small smile.
    Then, in that oh so handsome and playful way that Bruce Wayne seems to have in all those interviews he adds, "Well, right now at least. I'll admit the last few nights maybe I've imagined it once or twice." He winks at her and then steps forwards with a few more punches...
    But they're not thrown hard, oh fairly fast but there's no core to them, no turning twist of a punch to bring anything behind them, almost would be a slap if they were open-handed. But he throws three punches while trying to advance on her.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    "Oh?" comes her question at that admission from him. Mariam tries to think of why he would want to hit her. Other than her demanding he come into the gym for training. Maybe that was it. Or simply her having the gall to berate him for ditching her. That could be too. Come to think of it, her very presence disrupting his life could be the cause of those urges. He wasn't very happy when she was given the assignment. She still remembers his face in that boardroom. Lucius is still working on getting the decision reversed.
    He has every right to want to hit her. Yet, those pitiful punches are not going to get him there. "You have the strength there. With your frame and the muscle mass I assume you keep on for your lady friends, you could be formidable in a fight. You just have to learn to use what you've got." She blocks each of the punches. Right, left, right. She doesn't move back though, letting him close that distance. As she brings over a side block, she slips her other hand forward and just gives him a brush of her fingers upon his hoodie above his midriff. If she had wanted, it could've been a punch. "Alright, no training at all and no idea how to protect yourself while attacking. I think we may need to get down to those stretches."

Batman has posed:
    "Well, I try to keep physically active." Bruce says as he smiles behind his upraised fists. He lowers his guard then after her faux counter and gives a small shrug as he gives a nod. "What's the verdict, doctor? Hopeless?" He tells her with that same easy-going smile even as she tells him to get down to those stretches.
    A shake of his head is given, "I've got about thirty minutes I can give you. We'll talk later about tomorrow, alright?" And with that he'll settle down on the mats and give himself over to her current wishes. At least for now.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    The idea of him not coming back in again has her a bit frustrated but she doesn't dwell on it. Instead she lowers her arms to her sides and takes a step back. "The verdict is that you are not currently skilled in physical combat," she tells him with her own smile. "That's not the same as hopeless. There is always hope. It just will take some time. We will start slow and work our way up. I can teach you a few things right away that would help immediately against someone that isn't expecting you to fight back but the more indepth stuff will take time. I'm serious about you taking some martial arts classes. If you don't want it public, I have no problem doing it."
    She settles with her legs shoulder width part then starts with her neck. She rolls her head around in slow circles, making sure that the muscles stretch fully but gently. Then down to the shoulders, working them, to the arms which she extends out and performs small circles then larger before tugging her arm across her body and pulling it in a stretch. She makes sure he is mirroring her as she does so. Then it is bends to the side and twisting her torso at the waist before bending fully and putting her forehead to her right knee as she grips her ankle. "The training will increase your limberness in time." She almost says something she shouldn't and has to bite her tongue.'

Batman has posed:
    The grey sweats give nothing for the imagination to work with. It offers no insight to the man, despite his height. Oh he does fill out that shirt fairly well; broad shoulders, firm chest. But the swell of the sweat shirt hides his abdomen and waist ather well. And those sweat pants are fairly amorphous even when he bends at the waist to follow her movements with the stretching.
    Straightening up, he'll smile at her as he tries a touch of humor. "Can't I just hire a body double, you could teach them and then I can go back to having breakfast in bed and reading the newspaper?" He straightens up and twists his shoulders to the side, arms lifted as he rolls his neck a bit and takes a deep breath. "Though I suppose that would defeat the point."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    "It would," she agrees, shaking her head abit at the suggestion. After shifting her head to the other leg then center she settles down to sit on the mats. Her legs are extended out in front of her first, straight with the toes tucked toward her to get the full stretch. Then she spreads her legs apart, the smooth muscles sliding under her skin as she extends each leg out at a forty-five degree angle. She lays her body down between, head to the floor, showing that limberness she possesses despite the strength of her form. Then it is a bend to the left leg, forhead to knee. Then the right. Back to center where she lifts up her head to look at him and see how he is doing.
    "Once you're stretched enough, we'll do a few basic moves. Like I said, just enough to get you started on form. Falling is something you need to learn before we go getting into throws and the like. Although I will teach you how to throw me at least."'

Batman has posed:
    With a decent approach to it he'll pantomime her movements easily enough, though when it comes to that stretching out he doesn't seem to possess the same flexibility that she has, instead trying to reach his head to his knee and failing as he puffs a few times. He straightens up and then leans back on his hands, bright blue eyes meeting her gaze despite it being hidden behind those reflective lenses.
    His smile is warm and open as he replies, "I can't imagine that'll be very hard with your stature, you can't weigh more than a hundred pounds." He shifts himself into a more comfortable seated posture, tucking his legs under him as he looks to the side. "How did you get into all of this, Mariam?" He asks, perhaps trying to get her talking about herself instead of training. Or perhaps genuinely interested. "It seems like a strange profession for someone like yourself to take up. You seem like you'd be more at home in a library or academia."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    "Being able to throw someone has nothing to do with your size. Smaller people can be just as dangerous as larger. It is a matter of learning how to use your body and theirs in ways that improve your position in a fight. There are just different tactics depending on where your strengths lie," she explains as she sits up. She mirrors his posture this time, tucking her feet up close to her body, soles together though, pulling them up flush to between her legs so her heels are touching the material of her shorts. She presses her knees down with her elbows.
    "Why do the two have to be mutually exclusive?" Mariam asks honestly. "Just because soemone has a brain, it is assumed they wouldn't have brawn. And if they are physically fit, it is assumed they don't have as much intelligence. I always loved physicality. Pushing myself. Growing. Getting stronger." She doesn't motion to her exposed form with the taut muscles and tight abs. "Martial arts and gymnastics were my things when I was younger. I had hoped to become a lawyer. But...things change. Life throws curveballs. I guess you could say I gave up my career as a lawyer to start protecting people." In this case, her father. "Then I crossed to the other side of the fence. To protect someone, I hurt other people." She doesn't sound proud of that fact. The glasses hide as her gaze drops with the memory. "I was shown the error of my ways. I served my time. I got out and wanted to do better. Thanks to your company, I've been able to."

Batman has posed:
    A small sigh comes from him as he looks across the way at her. For a moment he chews on the inside of his cheek. For Bruce Wayne, in his thoughts, nothing has changed. Nothing ever truly changes. He has eternally had the clock stopped on his life and his world since one night so long ago. Yet he can recognize this thing that is him, that envelops everything he is and that is aound him. Knows what it can do to others who get caught up in the vortex of such things.
    Another stabilizing breath is taken as he looks to the side, then back towards her. "Mariam. I know how difficult it is, the position you're in. Being forced to do this. I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with either. I'm a very private person and I don't like people being near me, my life."
    For a small window of time he's open with her, honest as he leans forwards slightly. "I'd like it if you decided to resign from your position with Wayne Industries. I'm not going to fire you. I can't. If you do so, I promise that you'll get a glowing reference and I'll pull what strings need to be pulled to get you into another job. A better one with better pay."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Her head jerks back the tiniest bit. It's as though he just struck a physical blow on her.
    Mariam knew he wanted to be rid of her as a bodyguard. Not her specifically but any bodyguard. He liked to live his life his way. He just laid it out on the line and she frowns a bit as she relaxes her posture.
    But that isn't what he said. He wanted her to leave the company. Entirely. Only one thing comes to her mind and she doesn't like it at all. He didn't know her history. He didn't realize what she was in the past. Her confession of what she had done, hurting other people and doing time just brought it to the light.
    She's an idiot. Now that he knows, he doesn't just not want her as his bodyguard, he wants her completely out of his company.
    "I...see." Unfolding her legs, she gets to her feet as she walks off the mats to the side where she had left her towel. She picks it up and wipes at her face, even behind the glasses for a moment then lets the lenses fall back into place. She turns to face him, posture stiff. "I will go to the board and tender my resignation. Your company has done more than enough for me and my reputation will get me another job without needing you to pull strings." She isn't sure that's true but she'll be damned before she lets him. "I will want a good severence package until I can find another position." She shakes her head a little bit. "They will simply assign you another bodyguard, of course. I'll be sure to give them the names of the best candidates." And just like that, she's turning her back. Behind her glasses her eyes are stinging but she will keep herself under control until she is out of here. She reaches into her duffle bag and pulls out her own sweat pants, stepping into them and then sitting down to work on socks and shows. Keep it together, O'Shea. Just a few more minutes.

Batman has posed:
    Gaining his feet slowly, Bruce looks across the way at the back of the woman he just so summarily dismissed. His brow furrows as he looks to her, then he looks away towards one of those tall windows in the side of the manor. Shaking his head he looks back towards her and says quietly. "Mariam." Just her name at first, hovering there.
    It would't be the first innocent sacrificed on the alter of the Bat by the man. Not the first connection or relationship or damage that has been done in the name of the 'greater good' in his opinion. Right now, right here, an unfettered Bruce Wayne would be the best for the Batman to continue his efforts. It would be the best for him to have as little connection to others as possible really. But then the words of his father touch his thoughts.
    'A man is not an island, Bruce.' He had once said, kneeling beside a young Bruce who had just in a fit of pique and rage told one of his friends he never wanted to see him again. 'We're in a place where our lives touch the lives of many others. It's our responsibility to treat this as the responsibility it truly is.'
    So as she's getting her shoes on he frowns and looks back towards her. "Mariam. I haven't been honest with you." He folds his arms over his chest. "There's nothing wrong with you. You've done nothing wrong. It was unfair of me to say that. I am just... a private person. A very private person."
    A pause, then he looks to the side, then back. "I have had self-defense lessons. When I lost you before, I was meeting a business associate in private. I am... not the image you see in front of you at times."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    She decides she prefers O'Shea. It doesn't feel as personal. She doesn't want to hear anything more so she doesn't respond the first time he says the name. Instead, Mariam finishes up with her left shoe, securing the double knot. Wouldn't do to trip on an untied shoelace in a fight. Then she works on the right. As he continues, she frowns slightly and finishes the second knot then looks up at him as he speaks. Yet even while he is speaking, she is reaching into her bag and pulling out her sweatshirt. She's too exposed. She wished she had her suit. The sweatshirt will just have to do.
    She doesn't just rudely pull the shirt over her head and break eye contact though as he is speaking. She isn't that far gone despite her disappointment. His confession causes her to go still, the shirt bunched in her hands resting atop her lap as she considers.
    It would explain why sometimes he seemed so observant while other times he was a complete flake. Those few times when something peeked out. Such as his pointing out her blending in for the party the other night and the necessity of it as a sentinel for him. The need to hide his self defense makes no sense though and her brow furrows, letting him know that she is confused by all of this. And rightly so.
    "So you did ditch me on purpose." It doesn't change that he shouldn't have been able to and she now is doubting her own skills because of it but she continues. "It explains a few things. It also brings up a lot more questions at the same time." She shakes her head a little and does break the eye contact, pulling her sweatshirt over her head and tugging it down. The sleeves cover her arms and now she feels a little better, physically at least. She reaches up to pull out the tie on her hair only to quickly wrap it up in a bun, tucking it into itself. The scrunchie gets wrapped around her wrist where it's easy to carry and always handy.
    "I appreciate your honesty but it is unnecessary. Well, it would've been helpful when you let me make a fool of myself thinking I was teaching a novice. That's a bit above and beyond, I think. But I'll get out of your hair and you'll have your privacy. It'll be easier to ditch the other bodyguards. They aren't quite to my level." Not boastful, simply a statement of fact.

Batman has posed:
    "I did," He says when she claims he ditched her on purpose. "Ms. O'Shea." No longer quite as open, no longer quite as foolish seeming. He straightens up and looks rather dour as he meets her gaze. "My parents were murdered in front of me." He says with a stern solemnity, just as if presenting the facts. "From that day on everything changed."
    There is such intense honesty in his words. "Everyone wanted to take advantage of the situation. Everyone wanted their piece of the pie. I had to learn how to protect myself. That included..." He folds his arms over his chest and says calmly, "Presenting myself as no threat to the predatory people in this world."
    A frown marks his features, "So I do at times meet with trusted people. I do take an active hand in the company. I do know how to protect myself somewhat in the case of the other corporations trying to use violence to further their means. I viewed you as a threat to this."
    His brow furrows, his expression sharpening to a scowl. But then he adds, "But you are /much/ better than any of the other bodyguards I've witnessed. You are much better than I expected. I thought I could continue, conduct things normally. But you are too damned good at your job."
    He scowls and says, "Perhaps I should have let you go. But you would be a better asset to me if you stay. If you can keep my secrets to yourself. If you can be trusted." His eyes narrow sharply. "If you are as good as I think you are, and if I haven't misjudged you."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Mariam listens in silence. Those sunglasses hide her eyes yet he is able to read her body language to know she is fully focused and taking in every single word. When he compliments her on her job, after the earlier comments, she feels a sense of relief. It shouldn't be that easy to get over that but she knows she does her job well. While moments before he had voiced doubts, making her question, she knew she did it better than the others at the oompany. It's why she was chosen.
    "So, it would be easier to have a bodyguard that is on board than deal with another one that you have to continue your fascade around," she says, summing it up. Having someone in the know, realizing that he is able to handle himself and that he will be safe when he is out and about without his bodyguard, would simplify his dealings. He could meet his business associates without having to worry about getting rid of his personal shadow every time. Instead, she would be on board with it. She catches her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment.
    She likes her job. She likes what she does. She didn't want to leave the company. To be able to keep her position and perform her duties yet behind-the-scenes him having his freedom to continue to do his magic behind the scenes for the company. It makes sense to her. The way he presents one face so that he doesn't seem a threat. He has to have the brains to be able to maintain and even improve his company, which he does.
    "I'll want to be sure of your defense skills before I am comfortable with you being off on your own. But. I think we may be able to come to an arrangement."

Batman has posed:
    As she says that, gives him that small ultimatum, his lip curls up slightly as he tells her. "Always pushing, aren't you?" He shakes his head and smiles then reaches for that towel that she had discarded, dabbing at his brow for a moment before he looks back to her. "We'll set up another time. For now, I need to get ready to go into the office. We've got a lot to talk about."
    That said he turns away. A few steps carry him towards the door but as he moves he pauses and he looks over his shoulder. "I'll try not to lie to you again, Ms. O'Shea. If I do it'll be for your own safety. But from now on. We're a team." He turns a little further, eyes meeting hers. "Understood?"

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    The comment about her makes her smirk a bit, a more normal expression for Mariam. She rises to her feet and pulls her duffle up onto her shoulder. A lot to talk about indeed. Things just got a whole lot more interesting.
     She takes a step toward the door when he pauses and looks over his shoudler at her. "Honesty is a necessity so I wuold prefer it at all times." She doesn't understand how her safety might be compromised by honesty but that is something to ponder later. Along with everything else that has already happened.
    She meets his gaze as she reaches up her hand to her glasses. She slips them down the bridge of her nose the tiniest bit so she can look over them at him, letting him see those pale blue eyes of hers. The lights are bright and painful, but she feels the need for that openness for a moment. "I understand, Mr. Wayne. You can count on me." Then the glasses are back into place as she heads for the door herself.