It's a Graves thing (soundofwings) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-03-20 14:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | alfred pennyworth, catwoman |
Who: Wren and Iris
What: A new job, a new meeting, possibly a new friend
Where: A park
When: Today? Recently?
Warnings/Rating: Nope.
When Wren finally returned to Las Vegas for more than a few seconds, bruises mostly healed and Selina no longer a constant pressure in her mind compelling her to return, the very first thing she did was check the time.
Nearly noon.
Wren didn’t stop to check on Silver, who she assumed would still be recuperating in his room. She didn’t check on MK, who she assumed was sleeping off the evening before. She didn’t check in with Alice, who likely had her hands filled with appointments that needed to be scheduled and the hotel’s displeasure at not getting paid for a few days in a row. She didn’t even check on Luke, though he would be her subsequent phone call. But first, first she changed into a cool Dior dress, buttercup yellow and to her knees, and she twisted her hair into a perfect chignon, and she called for a car.
The ride to the park was short, and there was no outward indication of the panic Wren felt, as if something would happen if she wasn’t there every day, watching. It was a senseless fear, and it was a senseless trust, that she could do anything by merely sitting on a bench for an hour every day. But it was what it was, and she thanked the driver and asked him to wait. She approached the bench, as she always did, as if she simply liked this park, this scenery. It wasn’t until she noticed the boy wasn’t with the preschool class that played there that she panicked, all the perfect cool nothing of her exterior slipping away for just one moment to reveal true, uncontrolled fear.
Not long after the strange family “reunion”, Iris had begun searching for something to pass her hours other than researching anything about Batman that she could lay her hands on. Helpful it may have been, and it gave her something to focus on, but it didn’t pay the bills, and Iris didn’t want to rely on her family’s money forever. The problems in searching for a job arose at every corner, chief among them being that she was nearly 30 and had never had a job, never even completed a college degree, only had a GED and some random college credits. It left prospective employers cold.
She’d finally found the listing on Craigslist, hidden in the part time listings, vague but requesting a babysitter for several days a week. There was no mention of prior experience needed or any sort of requirements, really. It made Iris wary, but with Alfred’s encouragement she had submitted a letter with her contact information (she didn’t have a true resume), and had received a call back later that same day. With a few quick words on the phone, they had set up a time for Iris to meet at the family’s house, and she had agreed.
The interview had only lasted a few minutes, and the woman had left Iris feeling wary, much the same way the original ad had. The house showed signs of a couple that was quite devoted to their religion, and while the atmosphere made her uncomfortable enough to contemplate turning down the job, she changed her mind once she met Gus. The boy had peeked around the corner from another room, all big eyes and dark hair, shyness in his gaze, and Iris had smiled at him. After a second, he had smiled back, cheeks plump with childhood, and Iris had taken the job without even needing the extra prompting from Alfred.
It was her second day with Gus, and they were still settling into knowing each other, but it was an easy sort of thing. Iris found that she quite liked being around a child, and Gus seemed to enjoy having her around as well. The first day had been spent at the house, but the second day was time for an adventure. His mother (she had yet to meet his father) had told Iris of the preschool that Gus attended on days when Iris wouldn’t be around, and Iris felt that being able to continue to see his friends from the group could only be a good thing. So right around noon, they walked into the park, his smaller hand held securely in hers until they were close to the playground, when he bounced a few times and she let him run over to his friends. “I’ll be right over here!” she called after him, unable to keep the small smile from her lips as she watched him.
Wren was just moments away from a full-blown panic attack when the unknown blonde entered her peripheral vision. Even turned away, as she was, Wren could see that someone small held the woman’s hand, and perhaps it was a mother’s intuition that made her turn to look at the pair. It took a few seconds for the beating of her heart to calm, for her mind to register what her eyes already knew. It was fine. Everything was fine. Even if she didn’t know the woman, Gus looked safe, happy, and she watched without looking away as he ran onto the playground. She thought he’d grown in the days she’d been away, deciding that being four was being like a small weed. She took a very deep, calming breath, and she made her way back to the bench she had vacated in her panic.
The unknown woman smiled, and Wren relaxed a little more. There was no love lost between herself and the people who had taken Gus from her, though there was nothing bad enough to cause her to kidnap the boy and take him away from everything he knew, either. Plus, she’d only get caught, and he’d only end up in the foster system, and there was nothing more selfish than that. So she watched, and she waited for some sign that things were bad enough to do something other than what she had been doing for four years. But this new woman - a nanny, perhaps? - she had kind eyes, and a kind smile, and Wren looked back at the playground after a moment. It was, possibly, a good thing that Gus took after his father almost entirely - the same thick, brown hair, the same shy smile, the same build. The only similarity to the woman on the bench were his eyes - uniquely blue gray, big and wide, and with impossibly long lashes.
Once she was certain that Gus was happily and safely playing with his friends, Iris cast her gaze around the area and chose a bench for herself. She’d noticed the other people in the area, the woman on a bench a short distance away that was likely there watching a child of her own, but after that quick glance returned her attention to the boy. She was still nervous enough about having sole responsibility for another human being, especially a child, that she rarely let her attention wander for too long. Part of her worried that, with her history, she would find herself lost and unstable at some point when she was with him, leaving him in danger, but when those fears began to grow too much, Alfred’s calm voice echoed through the back of her mind, soothing her again. Still, she rarely looked away from the playground, gaze focused on the bright and colorful shirt that Gus had chosen that morning.
Wren lost track of the woman in seconds, her attention on the children entirely once the woman had been assessed and deemed harmless. Seconds turned to minutes, and her anxiousness melted away bit by bit. She had to do something to ensure she wasn’t stuck in Gotham for days at a time, she decided, and she was so lost in this thought that she didn’t notice the bright yellow ball until it rolled across the green grass and landed against a nude Dolce pump. She was reaching down for it just as she heard the footsteps on the grass, loud and heavy as only a child’s footfalls could be. She looked up, fingers around the tiny inflated ball, just in time to come eye-to-eye with the same boy she’d been so desperately seeking earlier.
For years, Wren had watched from afar, never getting close to him, never talking to him. She hadn’t even held him when he was born, and she found herself entirely unable to say anything now. She stared, rather obviously, looking for similarities, greedily memorizing everything she could, and it was his tiny voice that broke the silence. “Thank you,” he said, even though she hadn’t actually held the forgotten ball back to him yet.
Iris had seen the ball bump across the grass, bright yellow easy to follow in the contrast of lush green, and had seen Gus run after it. There were no streets around, no cars to be frightened of, but there were other people, and she watched as he drew to a halt in front of the woman she’d noticed earlier in passing. Iris didn’t worry at first, figuring the woman to be a mother that would return the ball with a smile, but after a moment, she realized that Gus was still standing there. “Gus...” she called out, hoping that his name would be enough to draw him away again, but when it wasn’t, she stood and crossed the expanse of green.
“Hey,” she said, quieter again once she drew closer, voice pitched toward Gus with a quick, wary glance at the woman. “Gus? Your friends are waiting...”
It was the woman’s voice that drew Wren out of her reverie, and she smiled at Gus and held the ball out to him, turning her wrist to ensure the bright white star was facing upward. He grabbed it with his pudgy fingers, and he ran off a second later, and she couldn’t help but stare rather obviously. It took her a moment to collect herself, and she turned her face up to the woman, beside her now, her expression still a little sad, but harmless. “He has very good manners,” she said, though she knew this woman wasn’t his adoptive mother. Still, the woman was worried about him, and that made the stranger someone Wren liked, regardless of anything else.
“I can’t take credit for that, unfortunately,” Iris said with her usual small not-quite-smile. “I’m sorry if he disturbed you, though.” She didn’t think it could be much of a disturbance, as children went hand in hand with a playground, but she would rather keep things on good terms, and if an apology could smooth things over, she was more than willing to offer it. She perched on the edge of the neighboring bench, staying close but not invading the space already ‘claimed’ by the other woman. Her eyes swept the playground again, finding that Gus had returned to his friends before she allowed her attention to take in the other woman again.
Iris had grown up around money, even if she was currently trying to distance herself from it, and she knew the signs of it when she came across them. Even her years of blindness hadn’t hidden them from her. A dress of good quality, fabric that hung exactly the way it was supposed to, shoes that were tall and yet well-made, hair that was smooth and betrayed a significant amount of money in its upkeep. There were little signs everywhere, and she wondered which child could belong to this well-dressed woman. The one with mud on his face? The girl with blonde pigtails? No one child stood out, and Iris found herself returning to Gus, checking again to make sure he was doing alright. Her attention strayed from what had started out as a casual conversation, whatever other response she may have had was lost somewhere in the patches of sun and shade across the grass.
“He didn’t disturb me,” Wren said, squinting against the sun as she turned to look at the woman on her new perch. There was something strangely unfocused about her eyes, but she knew the signs of money too, when she saw them, mostly because she had lived a life without them. Wren was a fraud; this woman, she wasn’t anything of the sort. It was impulse, perhaps the stupid desire to see her own child again, that caused Wren to reach out a hand that was bare save for a diamond bangle at the wrist. “Wren,” she said, giving her real name, entirely unaware that this woman hailed from Seattle, where Wren’s name had been tied (in so many tawdry and unfortunate ways) to a young billionaire heir. “Wren Maheu. It’s nice to meet you. I usually have lunch here,” she offered, regretting the admission almost immediately. If this woman mentioned her name to Gus’ family, then what? Would they move? Take him away? She’d never actually had to track him down, and she didn’t relish the possibility. Luke was here now, and she didn’t want to move, but she would for the boy. “My work is discreet,” she added a second later, hoping that would be enough to keep her name from making it home on this woman’s lips.
Iris had read the tabloids often enough in Seattle, mostly to keep up with her cousin’s comings and goings (even though it often only made her worry), but there were years and many dark and faded times between then and this sunny day in the park, and Wren’s name was only familiar in a passing sort of way that had no other connection to it. She extended her own hand to take Wren’s in a gentle grasp, a handshake that didn’t often meet new people and was delicate and uncertain because of it. She introduced herself as she pulled her hand back again, folding it with the other one in her lap. “Iris ...Russell.” She still caught herself before giving her last name, ‘Morgenstern’ nearly escaping her lips instead. She managed to keep her own secret behind her teeth though, knowing that even in Las Vegas that name would be familiar to some.
The woman’s - Wren’s - casual mention of a discreet career caused Iris’ eyebrows to raise a fraction of an inch, knowing that could mean any number of things, especially in Las Vegas. Those things, and the woman’s name, would never be passed along to Gus’ parents, however. Even within two days, she had begun to form an opinion on them. She was there for Gus, not for them. Though her passing expression was curious for a moment, contemplating what level of ‘discreet’ Wren could be talking about, she didn’t comment on that part of the conversation at all, letting it pass with the breeze and focusing instead on the other comments. “It’s my first day here. Though Gus has been here before.” A shadow deepened at the corner of her mouth, the only hint to her smile. “He’s the experienced one here.”
The name, Iris Russell, rang no bells for Wren whatsoever. Morgenstern, Monarch, those names were familiar, but this one was not, and she just took the greeting with a smile and a nod. Somehow, just knowing this woman’s name made her feel better somehow, and she looked back out over the playground when Iris confessed to it being her first day there. “I was detained the past few days. I was unwell,” she explained, and when the sun hit her face at just the right angle the truth of being unwell was visible beneath the makeup - a layer of bruises from chin to ear, darkest at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve seen him here before,” she admitted of the boy, who was chasing the ball back toward them again, though he managed to stumble on it with the glee of success before he came very close. He reminded her so very much of Luke that she forgot Iris was even there for a moment, before turning those similar gray eyes on the woman once more. “It’s a lovely park. The preschool is just beyond,” she explained, motioning with her hand. She didn’t go so far as to lie and say she had any children of her own attending, though it hadn’t been a lie before. “He used to go there, to the preschool, I think,” she said, trying to fish for information without being entirely obvious about it.
Iris wasn’t as innocent as she had once been, and she was plenty aware now of how ‘unwell’ could mean any number of things, no matter what outside appearance may be. The sun was bright, but it helped her to catch the contrast of colors along the side of Wren’s face, and a wrinkle of a frown marred her forehead for a fleeting second before it passed again. “I’m glad you’re well enough to return,” she offered, but contemplated taking it back when the woman began to talk more about Gus. Iris still hadn’t been able to pinpoint which child may have been Wren’s, and with all the extra information she seemed to know...
Iris turned her gaze fully on the other woman, searching for something with eyes that didn’t always catch every detail. “You’re quite familiar with the school then?” It seemed the safest question to fill the silence as Iris continued to study the woman. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but something deep in her brain sparked. She wasn’t yet able to define what it was, but if she could, she would recognize it as the place that found the hidden-yet-obvious similarities between Orin and Nell, between Sam and Louis and herself. That place in her that recognized family. Though she couldn’t name it yet, it forced her to give Wren a second and third chance, even when other things were setting off red flags in her mind.
Wren knew it was a delicate line to walk between casual conversation and too much interest, especially when it came to children. The proximity to the park and the preschool usually kept anyone from questioning her presence there. Surely, she was just a mother on her lunch hour, surely. But this was dangerous. This was a conversation, one where Wren had trouble keeping from glancing toward the child this very woman was taking care of. But it had been days, and she was helpless to keep her gaze from wandering whenever she heard him laugh and call out to a friend. “Yes,” she said of being familiar with the school, because it wasn’t a lie; she was familiar with the school. “I almost worked there once,” she added, which was true. They’d taken one look at her rap sheet and turned her away, but this had been years ago, before her current job, when Gus was just a year old. “But it didn’t work out,” she admitted with a smile. If she’d realized she was setting off warning bells, she would have stood right then, but Gus came bounding up to Iris and Wren forgot all about warning bells.
The boy babbled, in the way of four-year-olds, about one of the other children who claimed he had a puppy, and Wren soaked up the conversation with greedy ears. He had a hint of a lisp, she realized, an over-pronunciation of the letter s that he hadn’t grown out of yet, and his hair refused to behave in the back, just like Luke’s did when he slept on it for too long. She forced herself to look up at Iris and smile. “No pets at home?” she asked, because it was a casual question, one that forced Gus to turn his attention to her instead and do the responding, explaining that he wasn’t allowed.
Iris had leaned over nearly in half over her lap when Gus had run up, putting her at a better level to give him her full attention. She did glance over at Wren’s question though, and responded into the gap left when Gus paused in his babble to take a breath. “The house isn’t really... pet-appropriate.” It was a simple statement, but one that was accompanied by a flicker of a frown. The house wasn’t especially child-appropriate either, but that didn’t stop Gus’ parents from keeping him there. She’d never had a pet herself - the guide dog she’d had for a brief period of time had been so much more than simply a pet - but she thought that something that would both give and receive unconditional love from Gus wouldn’t hurt. Not with the way the rest of his life seemed so controlled and dull. It wasn’t her choice to make though, and she’d already promised herself that she would fill that sort of caring role for him if nothing else. She also promised herself that someday she would take Gus to a pet store, just so he could see the puppies. Or maybe the zoo - she already knew how much he loved animals.
“I come here every day at lunch,” Wren told the little boy, who was already at her level, given her seat on the bench. “I can bring my puppy for you to visit with?” she asked, glancing up at Iris for approval. The fact that she didn’t have a puppy wasn’t really a factor just then, if the woman agreed, she’d find a way around that small fact. Much like Iris, she thought something small and cuddly could only help. She remembered what it was like living with Gus’ parents, which she’d only done for a few months. The quiet, the constant fixation on religion. She had trouble imagining them changing just because a child was in the house, even one they felt they had “saved.” She realized she might be pushing too hard, showing too much interest in this particular child, but she was helpless to resist his sad little face when he talked about not being allowed to have a pet. “If it’s okay with Iris,” she added a moment later, because she wouldn’t go against the boy’s caretaker, as much as it pained her to admit that she had no right to insist on this front.
Two pairs of greyblue eyes turned to look at Iris. One was kind and hopeful, hidden behind a delicate, expensive pair of wire-rimmed glasses. The other was huge and young, just as hopeful as they peered beyond the heavy brown hair that fell over them. The similarity startled her enough to force a quick breath of surprise, but that was her only outward reaction to it. But in her mind, things began to turn and attempt to fit together in a larger picture. While her mind worked, she returned her attention to Wren and Gus, trying to be responsible (not wanting to lose her first job over something like a puppy), but it was difficult with Wren’s hopeful gaze and with how Gus had moved over to lean on her knee as he looked at her with those huge eyes. She finally relented with a sigh. “Yes, alright. As long as it’s not a bother, we can meet the puppy.” She knew that in most cases she would have grabbed Gus and left the park as quick as they’d come. But there was something about this woman that made Iris want to trust her. She didn’t know if it was Alfred’s influence or her own thoughts, and she hoped that he would stop her if she was headed in the wrong direction, but he remained quiet in her mind, so she chose to follow her heart.
Wren, who had grown afraid in the intervening minutes that Iris would take Gus and run, smiled brightly when Iris agreed. Gus bounced, unable to contain his happiness at the potential of even a part-time puppy, and Wren sat back and just watched him bounce his way around in a circle, not looking away until he ran off to tell his friends about his impressive acquisition. The smile, as she looked back at Iris, was a genuine one, so unlike the almost-smile that graced her lips on a daily basis. Hers was a sedate life, cool and removed, a necessity that was part of the persona she had so carefully crafted all those years ago. Little by little, cracks were starting to show, and she knew this was just another one. How in the world was she going to explain being a dominatrix with a puppy? But no, she could worry about that later. She slipped the wire rimmed glasses off her face (she didn’t actually need them after all), and she folded them as she looked at the woman at her side. “Thank you,” she said honestly, because this woman had given her so much without even realizing it, and she deserved that genuine thanks.
Iris’ smile widened as she watched Gus bounce around as well, something that likely would have grown into a laugh when she was younger but now was held to the warming of her eyes and curling of her mouth. When he was safely surrounded by his friends once again, she shifted her own gaze back to Wren, hidden behind thick lenses that she did need. She was silent as moments passed, her eyes never leaving Wren, trying to search for answers. When she finally spoke, she kept her gaze steady. “There’s questions I’m not asking right now.” It was an honest statement, somehow bold even though Iris’ voice was soft. She didn’t know what else to say, not really. She didn’t want to accuse anyone of anything, but neither would she allow this woman to think that she was weak in her defense and care of Gus.
The woman’s astuteness surprised Wren, and she just stared at her a moment when Iris voiced the comment about not asking questions. Gus didn’t take after her, she knew, and if this woman managed to make some connection- What if she ran into Luke? Who Gus did look exactly like- But, no, this woman, with her expensive clothing and her refined voice didn’t have any reason to ever encounter Luke. They had no reason to move in the same circles; the world wasn’t that small. She forced herself to stay calm, but the worry showed in her eyes as she glanced back toward the playground. “I’m not going to cause any trouble,” she promised, the concern that Iris would have second thoughts, think better of this strange meeting really gripping her just then. “I-” she began, but she stopped herself from making the offer not to return. She knew better that to think she could actually do that. “I won’t approach you again, or him, if you like.” It was the most she could offer, and she only hoped it was enough.
Iris quietly turned her eyes away finally, watching Gus run around the playground for a while before responding to Wren. When she did, her voice was warm even though it barely reflected in her expression at the moment. “No. You owe him puppy time now. You can’t go back on a promise like that to a four year-old.” She kept her eyes distant for another minute before returning them to Wren. “I just thought you should know. Not to try to hurt him.” At any other time, the thought of Iris threatening someone would likely be laughable, but the warmth had gone out of her voice, and she had gone deadly serious. Gus was hers to protect now, and between her own thoughts and Alfred’s, it was a duty she took very seriously. The chill to her was out of character, something she pulled from years-old memories of a man that had passed quickly through her life. It wasn’t in her to threaten, and the words felt strange coming from her, but she held firm even though her hands were clenched in her lap to hide their subtle shaking.
“I’ve never made a promise to a four-year-old,” Wren admitted, which was likely telling. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to a four-year-old until today.” Which was also telling, this time intentionally. She wasn’t frightened by the cold turn the other woman’s voice took. In fact, she respected it, was grateful for it. She worried about Gus every day, and she approved of anyone who seemed protective of him in the same way she felt he deserved to be protected. She might have lost the right to worry years ago, but that kind of thing never went away. She always thought it would be easier as he got older, but four just seemed more dangerous than three to her, since he was more willing to approach strangers without reservation. “I would die before hurting him,” she added after the silence, voice going fiercely determined. She could be dangerous too, that look said, in a way that had been hidden since Seattle, since throwing knives and saving children from bad situations had been second nature. She reached into her purse a moment later, and she pulled out one of her blank cards, only a number printed on it. She held it out after a second, and she nodded down toward it. “Sometimes, I’m unavoidably detained,” she said, thinking of Selina’s antics in Gotham. “But if anything should ever happen, if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Iris wasn’t about to tell her that until several days ago, she couldn’t remember ever talking to a four year-old either. That wasn’t information that the other woman needed to know. Not now, at least. “Best to keep the promise then. Since it’s your first.” She looked over at Wren’s determined words, and after a silence that was filled with thoughts, nodded. ‘Unavoidably detained’ sounded serious, and she wondered whether that pertained to the discrete job, the bruises on Wren’s face, or something else. Something that might be more familiar to her and Alfred. Some of the chill left her, and the quiet warmth began to return by the time she took the card from Wren’s fingers. She appreciated the weight and texture of the stock, the tactile sensations something that she still focused on even after regaining her sight. Lifting the card closer to her face, she studied the number before nodding and slipping it into her own bag. Once it was tucked safely away, she pulled out a large journal that just fit inside her purse, digging more in order to pull out a small stack of sticky notes that was tucked inside a colorful collection of bound comic books. The book was gone as quickly as it had appeared, very little sign of what the subject was. She used the journal as a table and wrote on the sticky note, first her name in careful letters, and then her phone number. She peeled off the top note and extended it, stuck carefully to one fingertip.
Even though the book disappeared quickly, Wren noticed the colorful covers of the comic books, and she turned a surprised gaze on the woman. Maybe she’d missed something? But, no- This didn’t look like a woman to carry comic books around tucked inside a journal. She hoped she was just stereotyping, assuming comics to be the purview of teenagers, but something made her warily ask, “you read comic books? Which ones?” It wasn’t precisely casual, and she reached out for the top sticky note and tugged it off Iris’ finger. The note was held in one hand as Wren pulled out her too-prototype cellphone, the one that reeked of Wayne Industries technology to an eye that knew what to look for (which she did not), and she typed in the number from the sticky note into the address book.
Iris pulled her attention from where it had shifted in order to return the journal to her purse, and her fingers tightened for a moment on the journal’s spine at Wren’s questions. After the pause, she finished tucking the book away, fingers lingering on the leather for a moment before letting the magnetic snap of the bag snick shut. “Oh. Not especially, no. I’m just carrying it for a friend.” It wasn’t a complete lie, and her sincerity managed to mask any of the falsehood that lingered in the statement. Her eyes went to the phone in Wren’s hand though, taking in the details of it as a quick wash of recognition came from Alfred. He, at least, knew what to look for. Just because he chose to forgo much of the technology he could accept from Bruce didn’t mean he couldn’t recognize it on sight, and said as much to Iris. She extended her fingers, as if to pluck the phone right from Wren’s grip, but paused with her hand in mid-air before drawing it back. “Beautiful phone,” she said quietly, both her own thoughts and Alfred’s attempting to figure out who else might be lurking in Wren’s mind. ‘Wren’ wasn’t the name of the woman that had been talking about Rachel in the journals, which left Selina or Damian, as far as Iris knew. ...or Bruce, but that didn’t seem to fit right.
Wren had no reason to doubt the reasoning behind the comics. After all, this woman took care of a small child, and she might have family, children of her own, children belonging to siblings. She watched the lingering of fingers for only a moment before finishing her input into the phone, which had no keys to speak of and seemed to have a more advanced input method on the screen than currently available technology. The comment about the phone, therefore, was not immediately strange. It was beautiful, sleek and elegant, and she looked down at it as the screen darkened once more. She’d always known it was stolen, because there was no way Selina could afford such a thing. Even now, after having read up on the Selina’s that came before her own, the ones that could afford such a thing, she still knew it hadn’t come legally - there was too much information on it that was locked, ciphered, that she couldn’t even access. “It was a gift,” she said of the phone, which certainly wasn’t a lie. It had come in the mail, a gift from the hotel. “I don’t think they’re available on the market,” she added, glancing back toward the playground (and Gus) distractedly, the bruising on her face coming into sharp relief with the unthinking movement. She looked back a moment later, and she smiled, completely unaware of any of the thoughts in Iris’ mind. “Which comic?” she asked curiously, the colorful cover still foremost in her mind.
If Wren was telling the truth, if the phone was a gift, Iris supposed that would point more toward Damian, but she didn’t want to label without truly knowing. Besides, Alfred could be mistaken about the phone (Highly unlikely, he countered), and it could belong to another world, another person that was able to create such technological things. She nodded at Wren’s description of the phone, because certainly it wasn’t available on the market. Not even in Gotham. She glanced over at Gus when Wren did, but once she was certain he was still alright, her attention flickered back again. She couldn’t stop the next whisper that slipped out. “I’d rather not say.”
It was a surprising response to a comic book she was merely holding for someone else, and Wren sat back and regarded her warily; she didn’t like the ominous feeling that came with that statement. “I’ve recently started reading some comic books myself,” she admitted slowly, watching carefully to see if the confession resonated with the other woman at all. Wren, whose clothing and jewelry combined netted more than most people’s homes hardly looked like a reader of comic books.
“Yes.” It was a short statement, and one that Iris didn’t expand on. Simply an acknowledgement that Wren’s statement didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Iris had been around money enough that she knew it didn’t mean anything about a person, not really. The dissonance between Wren’s appearance and her interest in comic books was not what made Iris carry her own uneasy feeling deep in the pit of her stomach, especially when her eyes shifted back down to the phone again. Its very presence seemed an accusation, and Iris stood quickly, hand laid flat against her own stomach to attempt to quiet the fluttery feeling there. She had yet to encounter someone from her own door face to face on the Las Vegas side, and it made her heart race in a way it hadn’t in a very long time. “I must be going,” she said, gesturing to where the pre-school chaperones were starting the process of gathering the kids back together.
Wren nodded politely. “Of course,” she said, as all her etiquette training said she must. Grabbing the woman’s hand and demanding to know about her comic book would only burn the very tentative bridge she’d erected that day. “I’ll come tomorrow with the puppy. If, for whatever reason, I can’t, my assistant will come. Her name is Alice.” She hoped that wouldn’t be necessary, but with Selina’s current antics it was hard to be sure. She glanced toward the playground one last time, a long glance, and then she stood and smoothed her skirts. “It was nice to meet you, Iris,” she finished, before giving the woman one last incline of her head. She turned for her car and driver a moment later, willing herself not to turn back around and look for the boy. She failed, turning at the very last moment, but then the driver was opening the door and the moment passed.
When Wren moved away, Iris waited as long as she could force herself to stay still before turning away and heading across the park for Gus, fishing him back out of the line of his friends with a smile. They waved at all the other children, Iris’ free hand closed carefully around Gus’ much smaller one again. His excited babble about the next day washed over her as they walked toward home, Iris balancing her unsteady worry with the solidity of Alfred in her mind and a soft smile of affection for the boy at her side.