Jessica looks less than amused as she stumbles to consciousness and stares Bruce down. He’s looking considerably less Batman-like than he did last night before she passed out, but he still manages to look too good to be standing in the middle of Jessica’s shit-hole of an apartment, with his two thousand dollar three-piece suit and his perpetual air of judgement.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“That you’re still here or that Captain Cockroach has made a grand reappearance?”
Bruce’s eyebrows go up at that, but his tone is clearly teasing as he does. “You named your cockroach.”
“It’s a hallmark of living in Hell’s Kitchen. Once you start naming your cockroaches, you know you’re here for good.” She rubs at her face as she goes for her desk drawer, looking to see if there’s another bottle lurking somewhere, but before she can open it, Bruce’s hand lands on her wrist. “You clearly want to lose that hand.”
He doesn’t let go, but he does loosen his grip. “How about I buy you breakfast?”
“I usually take my breakfast liquid.”
“You know a place that does that?”
There’s a brief flash of Luke’s old place going up in smoke and flames, and she pushes the memories away for now. “I used to.”
“Then how about you do a liquid lunch and have an actual breakfast with me instead.”
“There’s a surprising lack of judgement in that statement. Color me impressed.” She sighs as she finally pulls away, but goes for the leather jacket resting on the chair instead of the drawer. Jacket first, then boots, before she waves her hand and gestures for him to follow. “C’mon. I know just the place.”
* * * * *
The diner across the street from Josie’s usually gets most of it’s business around two or three AM, when they need to dry people out. Everyone knows the only thing you don’t order at Josie’s is the water, so most people take their friends here to wash the booze out of their system and get them some coffee and a good greasy meal to handle the hangover later. That being said, it’s still not a place where you’d expect to see Bruce Wayne, who looks decidedly out of place and has already drawn the whispers of the early morning patrons, some of them nursing hangovers and some of them just dropping in for a quick bite of solid food on their way to work. The back alley entrance is covered in graffiti and smells that really are better off left unidentified and while the inside is clean, it still has that decidedly Hell’s Kitchen grunge to it that you can never really wash out.
“This is the place?” Bruce asks as he settles into the booth across from her, eyes wandering the “working poor” of it all, and while his expression isn’t evident disgust, it’s not necessarily “I feel right at home” either.
“Yep,” she says with a sly smile. “Best pork roll in Hell’s Kitchen.”
The look on Bruce’s face says he isn’t entirely sure whether or not to question that, but for now he’ll let it go in favor of why he’s actually here. Jessica knows what that question is, and she’s going to definitely stall long enough to avoid him asking it. “And if we’re not looking for a breakfast completely covered in grease?” He raises his eyebrows at her over the top of his menu.
She smirks. “The French toast is pretty good. I’d stay away from the fruit though – it’s not exactly known for being fresh.”
“Duly noted.”
The waitress swings by with fresh coffee and takes their orders, but as she swings away again, a more shrewd look crosses Jessica’s face as she considers him. She’s gone along with the ruse of him just feeding a friend because she never says no to free food, but now she wants to know what he’s really after.
“So why the sudden generosity? Going to try and get me to join your superhero play group?”
“No. You’ve made it clear how you feel on that.” He shifts in his seat and folds his hands in front of him, leaning in closer so that they’re not overheard. “But I do need someone to help me find them.”
“And this is not me joining the team … how, exactly?”
“You know more about metahumans and gifted people than I do. You know what the signs are, and you’re better at reading people than you give yourself credit for, and you’re a damn good PI. I can’t just send any investigator to do this job.”
Jessica’s quiet for a moment, as she studies his face to see what he’s getting at. “You want to know that if someone picks a fight, they’ll be able to fight back.”
He nods once. “I’d do it myself, but I have other obligations I need to attend to. Keep up appearances. You don’t even have to make the pitch, just locate them and send me the information. I’ll take care of the rest.” There’s another pause as he reaches into his suit jacket before pulling out a card with a number written on it. “That’s your fee. And you’ll have access to Wayne Enterprise resources and vehicles – whatever you need.”
The number on the card has more zeroes than Jessica has ever seen in her life. If it were anyone else, asking her to sell out her own kind, she would have been inclined to tell them to shove it up their ass, but she also knows that Bruce isn’t doing this because he wants to toss them in a lab and perform experiments on them. He’s doing this because he wants to save the world.
It’s idealistic, altruistic bullshit, but hey. Maybe there are gifted people out there who are dumb enough to actually want to help.
“I’ll do it.” She pauses just long enough so he can hear the “but” coming, taking a long sip of her coffee. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You have to do an episode of Trish Talki.”
The look on his face was so uncomfortable, Jessica almost takes a picture of it for posterity – almost. “You want me to do daytime talk radio?”
She has to give him some credit – at least he knows what Trish Talk is. (Probably because he was investigating her.) “Trish has been on my ass ever since I started spending time with you. She knows that I have the persuasion technique of a raging bull, but she also knows that if I ever had you over a barrel I wouldn’t hesitate to use it as leverage.” She holds up the end of the card and flicks it for effect. “Bruce, meet barrel.”
He snorts a half-laugh, because all of the above is true, and also because he probably knows that one episode of talk radio isn’t going to kill him. Or, at least, it probably won’t. He nods in agreement before holding his hand across the table to her. “Deal.”
Jessica grins before reaching out to shake his hand. “You just made America’s Sweetheart very happy.”
“I’m sure,” he sighs as the food is placed in front of them. Jessica tucks her card away in her jacket before looking up at him again.
“You are still paying for breakfast, right?”
He laughs as he reaches for the silverware, before nodding his agreement. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”
this whole world shines so brightly | dceu/mcu | 1,254 words
“Why are you still here?”
Jessica looks less than amused as she stumbles to consciousness and stares Bruce down. He’s looking considerably less Batman-like than he did last night before she passed out, but he still manages to look too good to be standing in the middle of Jessica’s shit-hole of an apartment, with his two thousand dollar three-piece suit and his perpetual air of judgement.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“That you’re still here or that Captain Cockroach has made a grand reappearance?”
Bruce’s eyebrows go up at that, but his tone is clearly teasing as he does. “You named your cockroach.”
“It’s a hallmark of living in Hell’s Kitchen. Once you start naming your cockroaches, you know you’re here for good.” She rubs at her face as she goes for her desk drawer, looking to see if there’s another bottle lurking somewhere, but before she can open it, Bruce’s hand lands on her wrist. “You clearly want to lose that hand.”
He doesn’t let go, but he does loosen his grip. “How about I buy you breakfast?”
“I usually take my breakfast liquid.”
“You know a place that does that?”
There’s a brief flash of Luke’s old place going up in smoke and flames, and she pushes the memories away for now. “I used to.”
“Then how about you do a liquid lunch and have an actual breakfast with me instead.”
“There’s a surprising lack of judgement in that statement. Color me impressed.” She sighs as she finally pulls away, but goes for the leather jacket resting on the chair instead of the drawer. Jacket first, then boots, before she waves her hand and gestures for him to follow. “C’mon. I know just the place.”
The diner across the street from Josie’s usually gets most of it’s business around two or three AM, when they need to dry people out. Everyone knows the only thing you don’t order at Josie’s is the water, so most people take their friends here to wash the booze out of their system and get them some coffee and a good greasy meal to handle the hangover later. That being said, it’s still not a place where you’d expect to see Bruce Wayne, who looks decidedly out of place and has already drawn the whispers of the early morning patrons, some of them nursing hangovers and some of them just dropping in for a quick bite of solid food on their way to work. The back alley entrance is covered in graffiti and smells that really are better off left unidentified and while the inside is clean, it still has that decidedly Hell’s Kitchen grunge to it that you can never really wash out.
“This is the place?” Bruce asks as he settles into the booth across from her, eyes wandering the “working poor” of it all, and while his expression isn’t evident disgust, it’s not necessarily “I feel right at home” either.
“Yep,” she says with a sly smile. “Best pork roll in Hell’s Kitchen.”
The look on Bruce’s face says he isn’t entirely sure whether or not to question that, but for now he’ll let it go in favor of why he’s actually here. Jessica knows what that question is, and she’s going to definitely stall long enough to avoid him asking it. “And if we’re not looking for a breakfast completely covered in grease?” He raises his eyebrows at her over the top of his menu.
She smirks. “The French toast is pretty good. I’d stay away from the fruit though – it’s not exactly known for being fresh.”
“Duly noted.”
The waitress swings by with fresh coffee and takes their orders, but as she swings away again, a more shrewd look crosses Jessica’s face as she considers him. She’s gone along with the ruse of him just feeding a friend because she never says no to free food, but now she wants to know what he’s really after.
“So why the sudden generosity? Going to try and get me to join your superhero play group?”
“No. You’ve made it clear how you feel on that.” He shifts in his seat and folds his hands in front of him, leaning in closer so that they’re not overheard. “But I do need someone to help me find them.”
“And this is not me joining the team … how, exactly?”
“You know more about metahumans and gifted people than I do. You know what the signs are, and you’re better at reading people than you give yourself credit for, and you’re a damn good PI. I can’t just send any investigator to do this job.”
Jessica’s quiet for a moment, as she studies his face to see what he’s getting at. “You want to know that if someone picks a fight, they’ll be able to fight back.”
He nods once. “I’d do it myself, but I have other obligations I need to attend to. Keep up appearances. You don’t even have to make the pitch, just locate them and send me the information. I’ll take care of the rest.” There’s another pause as he reaches into his suit jacket before pulling out a card with a number written on it. “That’s your fee. And you’ll have access to Wayne Enterprise resources and vehicles – whatever you need.”
The number on the card has more zeroes than Jessica has ever seen in her life. If it were anyone else, asking her to sell out her own kind, she would have been inclined to tell them to shove it up their ass, but she also knows that Bruce isn’t doing this because he wants to toss them in a lab and perform experiments on them. He’s doing this because he wants to save the world.
It’s idealistic, altruistic bullshit, but hey. Maybe there are gifted people out there who are dumb enough to actually want to help.
“I’ll do it.” She pauses just long enough so he can hear the “but” coming, taking a long sip of her coffee. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You have to do an episode of Trish Talki.”
The look on his face was so uncomfortable, Jessica almost takes a picture of it for posterity – almost. “You want me to do daytime talk radio?”
She has to give him some credit – at least he knows what Trish Talk is. (Probably because he was investigating her.) “Trish has been on my ass ever since I started spending time with you. She knows that I have the persuasion technique of a raging bull, but she also knows that if I ever had you over a barrel I wouldn’t hesitate to use it as leverage.” She holds up the end of the card and flicks it for effect. “Bruce, meet barrel.”
He snorts a half-laugh, because all of the above is true, and also because he probably knows that one episode of talk radio isn’t going to kill him. Or, at least, it probably won’t. He nods in agreement before holding his hand across the table to her. “Deal.”
Jessica grins before reaching out to shake his hand. “You just made America’s Sweetheart very happy.”
“I’m sure,” he sighs as the food is placed in front of them. Jessica tucks her card away in her jacket before looking up at him again.
“You are still paying for breakfast, right?”
He laughs as he reaches for the silverware, before nodding his agreement. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”