Wren and Selina have claws (laminette) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-07-19 22:01:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | catwoman |
Who: Wren
What: Narrative
Where: Luke's apartment, mostly
When: This evening
TL;DR: Safe to assume there was a blip on the news about a Renoir sketch being stolen from a private collection in Reno.
Wren made it through fifteen minutes of her appointment before she had to leave the room, cheeks flushed, heart beating way too fast and her breath caught in her throat. It took another fifteen minutes to convince herself to go back in, untie the angry man, and let him go. She held the crop so tightly in her hand that the leather left marks against her palm, and the only thing that kept her from drinking herself into oblivion was the fact that she could visit Gus once she canceled the remaining appointment.
An hour later, she was in the cab on the way to Luke's apartment, showered and dressed in a simple sheath dress and sandals. The babysitter let her in, and she told the woman she could go for the next six hours, but that she would still get paid. Wren assumed Luke's shift would surely last that long, and it was more nerve-wracking to do this with a strange woman in the apartment. The babysitter left without protest, glad to have time to herself, and Wren had to wind her way through the chaos of the well-lived in apartment to find Gus.
The little boy was in his room, close enough to the foot of the bed that he could escape beneath it quickly if he wanted to. Finch was sprawled out at Gus' side, and the dog looked up as Wren walked into the room. The dog gave a quiet bark, but he didn't move, and Wren waited for the little boy to look up from his coloring and notice her. She was expecting fear or lip biting, but she didn't get either of those things. Gus ducked his head bashfully, greeting her so quietly that she almost didn't hear his tiny voice, and she took that as an invitation to step the rest of the way into the room.
She stepped out of her sandals, and she knelt on the floor beside him, and then she just leaned back against the foot of the bed and watched him color. She didn't say anything, and she didn't ask anything of him and, after a second, he went back to coloring a rhinoceros yellow. He started babbling a few minutes later, random lispy things that she agreed with, without really understanding, things about a television show and something he'd seen at the zoo. She traced his cheek with her fingers, and she ruffled his hair and, though he crinkled his nose at her in confusion, he didn't edge away or ask her to stop. He just went back to drawing, and back to babbling.
By the time the six hours had passed, the kitchen had been cleaned of the homemade mac and cheese they'd had for dinner (with leftovers wrapped in the refrigerator), Gus had refused help with a bath (which had resulted in a whole laundry load of soaked-through towels), and Gus and Finch had both fallen asleep on the couch (with pillows and blankets from Luke's bed all over the place) after being read three books in English and French (with said books piled on the coffee table). She dozed on the couch, fleeting nightmares about Alexander, Brielle and MK waking her every few minutes, only to soothingly find the little boy and the dog still sleeping peacefully against her hip. She left within minutes of the babysitter arriving, and she let the woman know that (unless Luke said there was a problem) she'd be back at the same time tomorrow.
She went home, to Turnberry, which really didn't feel like home anymore, and she crawled into bed and fell asleep within minutes. It wasn't long, however, before dreams turned to nightmares, and she woke with a terrified scream after a particularly gruesome dream about Jack breaking free of his cuffs and strangling her to death. She poured herself two drinks, unthinking, and she paced, and then she dressed, unwilling to shut her eyes again and see the things that waited behind her closed eyelids - dark hair, a scarred face, and so much anger.
Quietly, she left apartment, and she made her way to Passages, willing to let Selina have the rest of the evening for herself. She walked through the door into Gotham, and she expected to end up in the hallway the next morning, like she always did once Selina was done.
But this time it was different.
This time, Wren regained consciousness in her bedroom in Turnberry. She was dressed in sleek black, an outfit that she only used for work, and she felt exhausted, which was never the case after leaving Passages. She looked around the room, wondering how she'd gotten there and how much time had passed, a shiver of concern starting to build at the base of her spine.
She noticed it then, the sketch that was propped against the wall, a note affixed to one corner that said, simply: Rent. She didn't know the artist, and she wasn't even sure if it was an original, but she had a bad feeling she wouldn't want to know. She sat heavily on the bed, and she stared at it, willing it to be from Gotham, something carried over and of no value.
She had no idea how long she sat there, but movement in the apartment jolted her out of her reverie. She shed the black outfit and showered before changing into cream colored lounge pants and a white camisole. By the time she left her room, the sketch was neatly tucked away, a problem for later, when it was quiet, when she had the time to find an appraiser that wouldn't immediately report her to the police - just in case.