4186/The Passage of Time

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The Passage of Time
Date of Scene: 01 April 2018
Location: Gotham City
Synopsis: A Montage of Bruce Wayne and Mariam as time passes, revealing what she learned of the man now that she knows his secret.
Cast of Characters: Batman, Mariam O'Shea




Batman has posed:
    Despite the one cowl, the faces that the Batman wears are myriad. Nobody has been able to see them. Or rather nobody has been able to see all of them. Each person that crosses into the shadows of his life will always have their own impression of the man. Impression of the mask. They each get a glimpse of some piece of the puzzle that goes into the psyche of the man who has made it his life goal to make sure no one suffers such a tragedy as what passed for him.
    But for Mariam O'Shea things had been different ever since she had been brought in from the cold. No longer was she subjected to the periphery, to being held distant without explanation. The world had changed after she had realized the extent to which Bruce Wayne committed himself. To the place in the world he held and those around him. Perhaps, in some ways, she was still finding her own place amongst them.
    She had learned to the extent that some of the vigilantes trained. She had been brought in to help them learn and in turn... to learn from them as well. Some she faced were amused with her, even enjoyed sharing that time. Others... were still judgmental and perhaps thought her presence was a mistake. But even then she could see the different faces that he showed each of them.
    Oh it was the same face in some ways that she had seen in her days, when she faced the Batman. The indomitable anger and control. But when it wasn't turned on her she could observe it from afar. Could see him cracking the whip when Cassandra and Tim were training, could see the way he strove to keep Babs focused or at times upped the stakes to perhaps push her forwards.
    But none of those things would prepare her for the time when he and Nightwing were in the cave. When the young former Robin had torn his mask off and thrown it to the ground and stormed off. For the severe words that each one threw at each other.
    The conversation ended with him snapping, "You don't have what it takes to do what needs to be done." The taller man growled in that graveyard grim voice. And his first son left angrily, leaving the grim man to stand there in the empty world he had built around himself, his hands upon the seat of the batcomputer, his eyes cast down.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Time has passed rapidly since learning the secret of Bruce Wayne. Things were the same on the front. He still attended parties, she still was there as his protector. There were no more parties or less than before he shared the information.
    Now, she was aware of everything else. The odd sleeping times, the disappearances, the bruises that they used to hide. All thing she had no explanation for until he made it crystal clear by showing her that damned cave.
    She hadn't wanted to know. Mariam was happy with her life. Now everything felt different. She was more aware of the family. She trained with some of them. The workouts with Barbara had been going on before she learned the secret. Now others were involved. Some were more violent than others, more aggressive, more annoyed that she was part of their world now.
    As she heard the raised voices, she frowned a bit and stopped where she was. She didn't want to approach, even to be seen. She simply waited outside the elevator and listened as the voices rose up. The final words caused her to physically wince and she did move, peeking down from the walkway she stood upon to see the retreating back of Nightwing.
    She turned her head to look at Batman, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. His posture spoke volumes. The little she knew, he and Nightwing were too much alike. It would explain the butting of heads but it did not explain why he would say that to the young man.

Batman has posed:
    The silence was louder than the words were that had been hurled between the two men. Only then for it to be broken with the roar of a motorcycle as the younger man drives off into the night, through that rushing waterfall that parts just enough to allow him to pass unseen by the outside world. But once he's gone the silence returns, seeming to furl its wings around the man as he stands there with the batcomputer's glowing green display casting the tall man in that dark shade.
    A moment passes... two. Then he shakes his head and turns, starting to walk away from the monitors and the gantryway. He stepped towards the elevator and then past her...
    But then it was several days later. The early morning's light dawned upon the world with the slivers of it sneaking through the heavy shutters that cast the gymnasium in a warm if somewhat shadowy glow. There had been heavy thuds and thumps coming from the room that normally was unoccupied and closed off in this wing of the mansion. The day before there she had seen the man telling the young woman named Cassandra that she had to perfect her landings, that he needed to trust she could make each one without fail...
    Only for this morning to see him in that old gym that none of the others use. For him to be training in loose sweat clothes upon the gymnastic equipment even as the others are asleep in their quarters...
    He was moving through the motions, standing atop the balance beam and then turning with one single spinning movement. He darts across the way and /leaps/ at the end of it, reaching out to catch at the dangling double rings that seem almost too far out to be able to reach...
    And she would see him fail. Over and over see him falling after committing entirely to the run and the leap. His strong form extending fully as he /reaches/ and with such an extension each time he fails he falls and the impact is heavy despite the twist and the roll. Eventually he winces, pain clear in the line of his body. He'd rise and hold a hand to the small of his back. And despite the pain, despite the heavy sweat from that exertion... he continued. Over and over until finally. He was able to make the grab, to swing and lift himself up on the rings with one clean movement. And once he did that he did it twenty more times.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    It was odd hearing the things that they had kept so private. How many times had these discussions gone on in the next room from her while she was at the manor? Always behind doors or down hallways, just out of earshot. She had never guessed the types of conversations they were having. It had just seemed like life going normally.
    This was his normal. She had to remind herself of that.
    Mariam couldn't help but feel for the girl when he was was being instructed that perfection was needed. No one was perfect. Not even him. The man had to understand that.
    Then she saw it. The drive. The need to reach the unattainable. She had woken earlier than normal and followed her routine. Coffee then head for the gym. Only to find he was there, pushing himself. Driving. Over and over she watched as he made that leap. As he fell. She wanted to tell him to stop, to give up. Instead she remained silent, peeking through the door which was barely cracked.
    When he made it, she smiled brightly to see him reach what he'd been striving so hard for. The smile faded as he started again. He was going to be a mass of bruises already yet he still drove himself harder than he drove those around him.

Batman has posed:
    When he had emerged from that gym he had spared her a nod and the only word of greeting given was her last name. It was always like that. The distance held. He would talk at times, mainly to inform her of the plans for the day, the week, to perhaps give advice in handling of a situation. But there was that distance. But over time she would realize that he kept everyone at that arm's length.
    She had seen him during those times when he had been at a party and left with three Russian models who had been recently in the news for their ever so tantalizing poses in the year's latest catalog of some fancy matter or another. Had seem him, even when playing at that role how now that she knew to look... could see the smile never reach his eyes. She would even see those times when he would separate them, and send them off for the evening with a masterful turn of words and playful banter letting him know he'd call them, all the while leaving them thinking he would spend the night with one of the others.
    It was all a dance, keeping the various parts moving and never letting them overlap. She could see how he compartmentalized not just himself but his life and the people in it. Nobody got the full picture, but from her vantage point... she could at least get a feeling for it.
    Yet then there was the time when Alfred's voice was heard on the speaker of that limousine that was carrying them to the show they were destined to see. Heard the man's voice lifting, "A Ms. Kyle to speak with you, Master Bruce?"
    And for some reason that had him look up sharply. She could see in his eyes the intensity, and the hint of even desire as he started to lift a hand. But then he shook his head and turned his head back to watch as the street lights drifted past his window. "I'm not available, Alfred."
    "But, Master Bruce."
    "I'm not avialable."
    "Very well."
    And that was it.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    The way he kept everything so perfectly controlled was amazing, in all honesty. Mariam had no idea how he did it. To keep up with everything, to be able to expertly manipulate others into the whole charade. His acting skills were superb.
    Did she expect less from Batman?
    As they rode along in the limo, she was keeping her eyes on the outside as she always did. Until the call from the front. That was unusual. It was enough for her to glance at her employer from behind her glasses, never turning her head so it wasn't obvious.
    That was the first time she had ever seen him genuinely react to a woman. It was just a name. Ms. Kyle. That person was important to him, got behind those barriers he erected between himself and everyone else. Even those closest to him. She wasn't sure who the mystery woman was though. They had not met. She didn't remember her being introduced at an event they had attended. Yet for that moment, he was alive. Open. Vulnerable.
    It was gone so quickly, she might have thought she imagined it. Pushed back for some reason as he denied himself that happiness that was obviously there within reach. If he just picked up the phone. He needed to allow himself some light in his world. Maybe this was a source for it.
    "Mr. Wayne, not to presume too much but, perhaps you should take the call?"

Batman has posed:
    As they rode along he looked up as if realizing she was there on the far seat of the limousine. He gave a small nod, a faint hint of a smile as he shook his head and looked back towards the window and letting his gaze return to the flow of traffic, the drift of lights. It took a few more moments before he answered her by holding up his hand as if to wave everything away.
    "It's complicated." And he can't perhaps get into too much detail lest he compromise Ms. Kyle's identity as well as his own. But he looks over towards Mariam and says quietly in that level tone of voice reserved to be used as Bruce Wayne's, "What about you, Ms. O'Shea?" He asks as she has seen him do so often in those so many interviews, in those meetings with business people, in dealing with the models who accost him. He turns it back away from himself, and towards those who ask the questions.
    "Do you have someone in your life?"

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    His ability to divert conversation away from himself is one she's seen in action so many times. She knows it for what it is. Only Mariam also knows that he's right in doing so this time. It really isn't any of her business. He's her employer. That's it. They aren't friends. She overstepped her bounds by asking the question and his return makes it clear she shouldn't give out what she isn't willing to take.
    "If you mean romantically, the answer is no. I..." Her thoughts to go the past and she isn't pleased at the memories. It was a bad time for her. She was young and stupid. Since then, she's kept to herself. Her own smile is slightly sardonic as her tone lets it be known that reaction is aimed at herself, not him. "Not in a very long time. To quote a wise man, 'It's complicated.' " With that, she turns her attention back to the outdoors, not wanting to give any more of herself and respecting the line drawn. If she asked, she needed to be willing to give. And she wasn't.

Batman has posed:
    It was a brief engagement, their comments carrying the weight of the back and forth like some small clash of swords that seemed to speak to the challenge offered and the riposte made. She had interpreted it for what it was, for the almost instinctual counter given by a man who is used to at times operating amongst people on something of an... auto-pilot.
    Yet when she turns away his eyes narrow slightly and his brow furrows. His own thoughts drift to the times he spoke of his bodyguard to the others, their own opinions. Which one of those opinions he listened to it might well never be known. But whatever it is, it moves him to not let the conversation drop entirely.
    "I was young. It was before everyone joined me." Before Robin, Batgirl, all of them. "We both existed in different parts of each other's worlds. But this life..." He lifts a hand and waves it to the side, but she knows he speaks not of the life of a billionaire, more the cape... and the cowl. "This life isn't for everyone."
    A pause drags on, and perhaps it might end then. But he adds almost as if an afterthought, "But perhaps it might have been and that was dangerous."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    The sudden sharing surprises her. Mariam glances back over, not letting it show on her face as she tried to act like they had these sorts of conversations all the time. It was a glimpse of the man behind the mask. Not in the physical sense, of course. There was still so much that was a mystery about him and this was just a tiny peek at some little piece that made the man.
    She considered for a long moment, letting the silence stretch out before speaking. "She would've been in danger either way. If she understood and possibly joined you out there, like the others have. Or if she was at home waiting for you to return each night." She thinks a moment before continuing. "We all are always in danger. Our lives could end any instant, even without a cape or a cowl. A car crash, a heart attack, a freak skiing accident. If you were both in love, it doesn't matter who you are when not playing this role." She makes a motion toward the limo with her hand as she continues. "It just mattered that you were together while you could be instead of denying yourselves that little bit of happiness. Sometimes that little bit is all we ever get." A pause then she adds, "Perhaps she should've been given the choice."

Batman has posed:
    A small sardonic curve touches his features but he shakes his head as he settles back into his seat and then the car begins to slow as they reach the front curve of the entrance to the playhouse. He scoots to the side to move towards the door, though she likely will be stepping out before him.
    "Ultimately she made her choice." He says that even as she moves closer, then when she reaches the door he tells her, "But unlike you, she didn't go straight." And /that/ might give her some food for thought even as she's suddenly tasked with making sure that outside of that limo, with the flashes of the cameras flaring and the people clamoring for attention... that no one wishes to do harm to Bruce Wayne.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Didn't go straight. That explained so much. With his need, his drive, there was no way he could stay with someone who had chosen the opposite path. Love or no love. Complicated didn't even begin to cover it all. Unless this Ms. Kyle turned away from that way of life entirely. Not knowing the details, she had no way to guess if that could happen. Mariam was left with her mind running in circles.
    Particularly that he had compared the woman to her. That could be misinterpreted. She made sure not to do so.
    "Her loss," came from her lips before she opened the door and stepped out of the limo into the flashing lights from the cameras.

Batman has posed:
    Yet it was several days down the line that had to pass before more might become clear, these small glimpses into the man carried with them just featherlight touches of insight into the world that he dwelled in, into the mind of the man that created such. Her duties brought her into contact with the people of that manor, even as the days crept closer to the six month mark, delineating the time she was to hold her position despite the efforts of Lucius Fox. What waited afterwards was a mystery but was not spoke on at all. Days passed, but mostly nights. Nights filled with harried and frenzied activity that she would only see from her place on the outside.
    During one night she had been there in the cave when he returned with two of his soldiers. He was silent as he walked across the gantry even as the others were making congratulatory noises, laughing and seeming upbeat at their performance. But then their mood was quickly quashed, crushed as he rounded with the cape flaring like some great wing as he snapped.
    "Tonight was sloppy. I expect better."
    Their faces drooped, expressions torn between anger and sadness.
    "Drake, I expect you to shuffle the training schedule. Double evasion and ropework sessions. It shouldn't have been that close."
    And as he said that he rounded and stalked away, moving towards the elevator. Nobody was able to reach him that evening. Even the oldest of familiar faces in the household was unable to draw him forth from the dark mood that had taken him as he stalked off. Yet it wasn't until a moment past dawn that he drew the shades in that guest suite that she would pass from time to time. It was enough to let the light in, enough light that he could finally see the rampant and angry bruises that marred his scarred and tortured chest. The heavy impacts from that juicer who was using the mutant growth hormone to augment his punches. An inhuman creature that tried to crush his all too human body.
    Away from their eyes, from the faces of the people he has to maintain his image for, away from the scrutiny even of Alfred who would admonish him for the risks he takes. It's only there away from all of them that he would then let him lean against the wall with those bruises in their painful state and the darkness of blood deep beneath the skin against the ribs... it was there that he held the ice to himself and embraced that sullen silence.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    She knew she would find him here. Mariam had learned this was his place to seek when things went poorly. It had started from that fateful shooting, when she found him stitching himself up in the bathroom off this very same guest room. Other nights, she had seen him disappear there. Or his exit to the hallway in the morning. Upon witnessing his reaction to the others in the cave, she feared he might be here.
    If he was here, he usually was hurt. That seemed to be the key. He preferred to avoid Alfred at those times, not wanting to worry his father figure. The man already stitched him up enough. She could see that protectiveness was part of Bruce's reason.
    The other was more simple and more complex. He didn't want the rest of them to know. Not that it was weaknesses yet, in some ways, he might be viewing it as such. He had to act like he was unscathed, like he was invincible. It helped to inspire the others.
    It made for a lonely existance.
    Pushing open the door, she walked in carrying a water bottle in one hand and a white pill bottle of some sort in the other. She closed the door with her foot as she entered, making sure he knew she was there. He could yell at her, order her out. She walked to a few feet in front of him them held out both bottles. The pills turned out to be nothing more powerful than some Tylenol, although at a high dosage.

Batman has posed:
    The brightness of the morning shines light upon the woes of the day before. It brings with it a clarity that isn't there in the wee hours of the night and begs reflection upon the past. She can almost read it in the way he stands there with his arm against the wall, leaning and looking out the window for a time. But when she draws close he'll turn his head to the side. Not in a hurried way, as if she had surprised him. But in a curious way as he cocks an eyebrow to consider what she holds in her hand.
    At the silent offer made he lifts a hand to the side, as if to wave off the offering being granted to him. He says quietly, "I'm fine." Again that rote tone, that level response he gives under any number of circumstances when dismissing words of concern sent his way. But after another look he'll take up the bottle of water and tilt it back so he can drink several swallows before setting it back down quietly.
    He turns away from the window, the light catching the old scars, the sword strokes, the bullet holes that have all mended over time but leaving those dense marks upon his flesh. He rests a hand on the edge of the desk then looks to her with furrowed brow. "You don't have to wait up for me. You should sleep."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    "Don't flatter yourself," comes the response from Mariam. She sets the bottle of pills down on the nearby nightstand then turns back to watch him again. "I do not wait up on you. That's Alfred's job. I sleep like a baby while all of you are out doing what you do." She waves a hand in the air vaguely, her implication to whatever they do.
    She's dressed in her workout clothes, obviously having diverted here. He's one of the few that ever sees her this way. For the rest, she is always in her working cltohes. The suit. Or the dresses she has to wear to the fancier events.
    "You should take some of those. It won't really make you stop hurting but it might help to make it more tolerable. Why does it look like you went about ten rounds with Superman?"

Batman has posed:
    "Ah, good." Bruce nods once and steps past her and away towards the door that leads into the bathroom. "I just got used to you following after me all the time that I figured you didn't have a life beyond that." Most people would wilt under that sharp rejoinder, the almost casual way he encapsulates someone and then dismisses them with some sort of... succinct insight. But she might have gotten used to him at this point that she might well turn it back on him.
    But after he says that he moves into the bathroom and flips on the light, looking into the mirror. She can see his eyes there as he looks at himself and rubs at his jaw painfully, frowning as he shakes his head. "Just another night, like any other." Since at the least he can keep her at that small distance.
    "Alright, go back to doing whatever you were doing, O'Shea." His reflection says to her as he meets her gaze.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    "My life, or lack thereof, is not up for discussion, Mr. Change the Subject," comes the quip that he was expecting. "I have plenty of things to do besides watch you stand around being too stubborn to accept something that just might make your life a little easier for once. Perish the thought." The thing is, she isn't even offended. Or annoyed. She almost sounds amused.
    With that, she turns toward the door that leads out and walks calmly that direction. After all, she's been dismissed. She stops with her hand on the door frame though. "If it was a night like any other, you wouldn't be in this room. You only come here on the bad ones." With that, she steps into the hall and leaves him to lick his wounds.

Batman has posed:
    She'll hear from him in that sharp scowling tone, "Good /bye/, O'Shea." And then the /whud/ of the door being pushed shut by his foot. The door closes separating them and leaves her free to go off to her morning workout while he tends to his wounds as he so often does.
    But now that was only a handful of days ago. A week? Less? Just a few days in the past where even though things had been difficult, Gotham was in control. The city had been slowly seeming to come to heel, the crime families of the city had gone underground, the Russians were licking their wounds in Bludhaven, and the Garibaldi family was losing ground to such a degree that they couldn't hire new button men to take up the slack.
    The evening had been as many others. Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, they all had been out and operating. The city was under control for the most part and the comm frequencies had only announced a handful of crimes that were quickly resolved by the PD or by the Bat family. Arkham was silent. Blackgate. And for once Batman was not needed.
    "Go," It was said, "For once the city might need Bruce Wayne more than it needs Batman."
    And it was true, Mayor Davis was appearing at the Gotham City Opera, the movers and shakers of the city were putting in their appearances. But if Bruce Wayne shows up and tacitly endorses the mayor, or takes a few shots shaking hands with the man... then chances are he'd win the coming elections easily.
    So it was that they were in the Escalade this time, the car rolling forwards and carrying them to the opera house. A little more cozy with the four seats each facing each other and the areas between them used to store a bevy of drinks and ice chests. Shrimp and champagne are on hand to the side, but for now Bruce has none of it. Instead he's riding along in the car and he smiles a little at the distinctly uncomfortable way that Mariam always seems to have when she's forced to wear something more elegant than her usual fare.
    "You clean up alright, O'Shea." A nice thing to say, if it weren't for the smirk there.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    His amusement at her expense was not appreciated. The cream colored gown with the fancy draping and the lack of sleeves was beautiful but, it was too revealing. The neckline was too low, the shoulder straps too narrow. It showed off more flesh than she liked. The skirt was long and flowing, a slit up the left leg. That had not been part of the original from the designer. She had insisted on it being added for ease of movement if something happened.
    When she had tried it on at the designer boutique, she had listened to the salespeople when they told her how lovely it looked. She'd bought the pitch. Hook, line and sinker.
    Now here she sat second guessing everything about it and that smirk from him just proved she was right. This was a disaster. "It's not like everyone doesn't know what I'm around for. I don't know why I can't just wear my suit," she muttered as she adjusted the skirt to be sure her leg wasn't showing again. It was only about the sixth time she'd done it on the trip. After all, no one was mistaking Mariam for one of those supermodels that he would have along if it was a date.

Batman has posed:
    "Sometimes, Ms. O'Shea, it is not important that you deceive an individual's gaze so long as you make the pretense and allow them to indulge in the fantasy that they don't see through you. People are at their most susceptible when they feel they are at an advantage." With that small nugget of wisdom he smiles again but this time perhaps a little more sympathetic.
    "But really, you look fine." He says, perhaps his way of helping allay her worries. Perhaps it's helpful, perhaps not, but whether it is or not is rapidly moot as that vehicle rolls to a halt on the edge of the sidewalk that leads into the opera house itself.
    Resting a hand on the door he nods, "After you," And then he'll allow her to precede him once again into the breach held by the photographers and fame seekers, all trying to get their moment and their piece of Bruce Wayne.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    She manages an almost smile at the reassurance. It's gone as soon as she touches the door handle. Mariam's work face is back as she opens the door and steps out to the brunt of the celebrity lovefest going on. Once she has scanned the crowd, she steps to the side to allow the man of the hour to exit the vehicle.
    As he moves, she does. She waits for his cues though. Sometimes he will pose for photos, talk with people. Other times, he heads immediately indoors. Either way, they have danced this dance enough times now that they synch up without even thinking about it. When he goes to enter, she opens the door and does a quick scan of the interior before letting him step through first.

Batman has posed:
    It was only a few waves tonight, that brilliant smile given as he wandered up the red carpet and towards the interior. Once they reached the inside he tilted his head towards one of the people that was calling out questions to him. He held up a hand to his ear as if trying to hear, then feigned laughing and shaking his head as he stepped through the door as if he couldn't hear the person.
    Once inside he's met by the manager of the opera house, a tall man with a thin mustache who shook Bruce's hand. "Mr. Wayne? William Keith. So good of you to come, the mayor is awaiting you joining his box upstairs. If you'll follow me?"
    Bruce smiles and nods, "Of course, Mr. Keith, please lead on." And they move up and after, heading towards their seats with an easy step. It's a wending stairwell that's blocked off by a red velvet barrier but it's parted for them. Upwards they climb and together they reach a bank of archways that lead towards the separate alcoves where the opera-goers have some measure of privacy.
    "This way, Mr. Wayne." Mr. Keith smiles again, his small mustache crinkling like a dead caterpillar. But he leads them onwards until they reach that box seating and the Mayor with his wife both stand up.
    "Ah, Mr. Wayne. We thought you might never join us." The too too perfect looking man with the perfectly coiffed hair shakes Bruce's hand as well and he says, "May I introduce my lovely wife, Beatrice?"
    "Charmed," Bruce says with a smile as he half bows. "This is Ms. O'Shea, my director of personal security."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    This was the part that Mariam was not as comfortable with. Bad guys attacking? Sure. Killer ninjas? On it. But social hob knobbing with the like of the mayor and his wife? Shoot her now. Please.
    She pastes on the smile and gives a nod but apparently politicians required hand contact of some sort. When his was offered, she shook it briefly. Her own handshake was firm, two pumps, then release.
    The mayor's wife gave her one of those wimp wristed, awkwardly held up instead of out offerings of her hand. Mariam wasn't sure if she was supposed to shake it or kiss it. In the and, she briefly clasped the woman's fingers in her own then quickly dropped her hand back to her side. She didn't wipe the palm on her skirt despite that fact she might have politic cooties. They were a thing, she was sure of it.
    "A pleasure to meet you both," she says in a neutral tone.

Batman has posed:
    As Bruce and the Mayor shake hands, several reporters click photos and images. The photo will assuredly lead several news stories and papers, a smiling billionaire and a smiling politician. Clearly important news. But Bruce bears it all easily even as he sits down on the inner seat, giving Mariam the farther one so she can be away from the mayor and his wife and not have to deal with them further than she has to.
    The Mayor and his wife give Mariam a look over and that thin smile even as they seem to somehow look past her... through her, as if she wasn't really there. Which, for them she wasn't. She was just a facet of the Wayne Foundation money, another hand to be pressed in the search for more cash.
    "We'll talk after the performance, perhaps mingle some in the lobby during intermission?" The mayor asks of Bruce after having dealt with Mariam.
    "That sounds fine." Bruce smiles as the lights flicker and then begin to lower in the signal that the patrons need to find their seats. Everyone begins to settle in place for the show. And then... it begins.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    As everyone settles, now comes one of the more difficult parts of her job. Mariam tends to be distracted, wanting to watch the stage instead of the surroundings at such events. While she doesn't understand Italian, she does love the beauty of the music, the voices rising and falling from the stage, the entire spectacle.
    Tonight they are at the showing of "Madame Butterfly". It is not one she has seen before and repeatedly she is finding herself drawn into the first act with the beauty of the costumes which include some elaborate kimonos.
    She does manage to keep forcing her eyes back to the dim interior though, keeping an eye on the entrance to their seats and any places in the opera house that would have a shot at Bruce.

Batman has posed:
    The performances are exquisite, Gotham's theater always rivaling the best of the world and having an endless feud with the people of Broadway. Some would give the Gotham Opera the edge over the Met, but Broadway is a national institution to compare. Yet it is just a drive across the river so there are many actors and singers that overlap from one place to the other.
    Yet tonight is exquisite. The pain in the eyes of the performers is clear when they move across the stage. The music is on point, with no hesitance given to each height of each movement. And for a time Bruce Wayne might have found himself allowing his mind to focus upon the performance before him, to allow himself to be in this now...
    And that is the moment when there is a faint buzz against his hip. A phone that Mariam most likely wasn't aware that he had ever even carried. Its blue light illuminates the box seat that he shares with his bodyguard and the Mayoral couple. Its light shines upon his features for a moment, his brow furrowing as he looks at it. It even might draw a look of annoyance from Beatrice.
    But then Bruce is standing, a severe and dour look touches his face even as he's rising and abruptly pocketing the phone. He turns and starts to the door only for the Mayor to stand up and intercept him. "Whoa, Bruce, wait a second." He rests a hand on the man's arm.
    "Hold on here, we got things to do later."
    "Get out of my way."
    Mariam has heard that voice. The stern barely controlled rage that she has only ever heard with a cowl hiding the man's features. It's enough that it causes the man to step back, his hand falling away tentatively from Bruce's arm. But he reasserts himself. "Now wait a second, Wayne..."
    The man starts perhaps even as Mariam might be rising herself. But then there's a heavy /thud/ as Bruce Wayne pushes the man physically out of the way even as a photo snaps, another. Just enough to catch as the mayor stumbles and falls against the wall, a perfect picture for the front page of Bruce Wayne glaring angrily at the man.
    But then he's past. Walking out into the hall and pulling at his tie. If Mariam follows after she'll hear him snap to the side, "Back at the mansion." He'll meet her there. Perhaps.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    She should have known. Things were going too well. Mariam stands as soon as Bruce does, turning toward the back of the booth so that they can exit.
     Mariam isn't worried about the mayor. In fact, if Bruce hadn't done it, she was about to remove the mayor's hand from her charge personally. No one was to touch him unless he was the one closing the distance to allow it. Yet, it was handled. Then things escalated. The push, the pictures. It was all happening too fast but that wasn't what she had to focus on.
    Something bad had happened. He would never do this otherwise. He was intent on getting to where he was needed but they had too much press here for him to go into a bathroom and never come out. She pushed the earbud and spoke quietly. "Bring the car to the front door."
    Then she looked to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, the car will be downstairs by the time we get there. We can get you out quickly, despite the press." The words are spoken like it is nothing but they both know it's a warning. Too many eyes.
    She motions so that he will lead the way on the stairs, keeping pace with him easily as she holds her skirt out of the way so she doesn't tumble head over feet down the stairs.

Batman has posed:
    Even as he's walking he's looking ahead, a distant look in his subtly widened eyes with his eyebrows twisted inwards. Fingers curved like claws tear at the tie that is constricting him as he pulls it free. But when she speaks to him. When she breaks into the world of his thoughts, he rounds on her almost furiously. The look he gives her with the blaze in his eyes might cause almost anyone to quail, to flee in fear of their lives. But she can see the effect they have on him. Can see the way they get through as he looks up and away, features pinching as he lifts his gaze towards the distance and seeing the course of various actions.
    Hers is the best.
    A nod is given as he continues to stride down the hall even as they turn to take the steps at a rapid rate. Behind them there can be heard a bustle as perhaps some reporters are rushing to get a statement from the mayor or to pursue Bruce Wayne. But they're far enough ahead that they press on, downwards, and then reach the door where he shoulders it open and there's the Escalade waiting with the engine humming. He slips inside and then once they're both in... it peels out.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Mariam says nothing. She simply takes her seat across from him, eyes going to the people left behind on the sidewalk as they rush down the street. It won't be far. The trip will be less than a minute. She doesn't ask what has happened. It would be unwelcome. Already, he isn't even there. He is dealing with whatever crisis has come up, that has him even more tense than normal.
    She's not sure how she weathered that moment of intensity when he turned on her. Perhaps it was just because she knows him better now. When Batman had used that same tone on her in the past, she'd found herself curled up on her bed wanting to hide forever. Yet this time she had managed not to shrink back but to get through, to help him see the necessity.
    Just down the block, around a corner then left into a small alleyway where there are no cameras of any type to see. The vehicle pulls to a stop.

Batman has posed:
    Once they're at a secure point he gives a nod towards her and this time he's first out of the vehicle even as he's touching a hand to his ear. Some silent communication had even as he leaves her behind. The driver resumes as soon as he's dropped off, somewhere just south of Midtown and near one of the secondary batcaves that are used for direct operations in the city.
    She might have one moment, one last glance at him in the rear view mirror or the windshield. And then he's gone from view with her being ferried back to the mansion and to once again be left off and alone for the night.