Who: Gwen and Alfie What: A conversation that goes badly Where: Bathos When: The afternoon of Alfie's meeting with Quinn on the steps of Aubade Warnings: None
Alfie’s day had been a long one, and she’d been admittedly distracted. The more days that passed without some level of contact from Jane, the more she worried the young woman was never going to reach out to her. She had not, she knew, been the ideal mother. Marcus had remained at home, while she had grown the family business, and it resulted in a closeness between Marcus and the girl that did not include her. She had never begrudged either of them that connection, but it meant that she heard of Martha’s accomplishments, rather than witnessing them herself. She would return home in the evenings, and she and Marcus would talk into the morning. She missed those days and those confidences. Marcus would recommend she try reaching out to the young woman again, were he alive, but Alfie was not the parent Marcus had been, she knew this about herself and she was comfortable with it.
There was, also, some disappointment at the young woman’s reaction, some concern about her ability to navigate the world given her reaction, some insult that she had chosen to send a stranger to speak to her on a forum, rather than confronting her with her demands. All in all, it meant she was distracted and unsure about the course she had set upon. It did not, however, change what she was about to do.
She’d moved her ‘sanity check’ with Thomas and Luke from 5:15 to 6:15, and 5:15 found her in Bathos, standing in front of unit 105. She raised a hand, and she knocked once, a form, no-nonsense knock.
Gwen was pretty tired by the time 5 o’clock rolled around, her eyes glazing over slightly as she ran through lines of programming. Freelance debugging was what was on today’s plate and with Thanksgiving around the corner and December rent looming right after, she was making sure she picked up enough projects here to keep them well fed and warm. The second yawn in an hour made her pause her simulator and head to the kitchen for a cold drink. She was due for a nap soon, something to revitalize and energize her so she could stay on the commlink network for the rest of the night, but it wasn’t quite the time. Her schedule strict and had to be kept, otherwise she’d be useless. In the meantime, something iced would do.
The knock surprised her and when she realized that no one else was around to answer it, she moved closer to the door. The peephole was still at the standard height, but the doorscope installed on the inside allowed her to view who was there even from her chair. She didn’t recognize the woman at all but she was older, unarmed and otherwise unassuming.
Normally Gwen wouldn’t bother to open the door for strangers, but it was still early in the evening. Quinn was due back for dinner soon and there was still so much she didn’t know about Darwin. Maybe this stranger was for him. She opened the door, a polite width to show her face and her chair but not her home. Her smile was polite but small, the confusion clear in her furrowed brow. “Can I help you?”
Alfie didn’t try to look inside, and the surprise she felt at finding this particular woman in a chair was kept entirely off her face. It did, however, strike her, and she thought back to crimes in Musings, possible police officers injured. She’d always assumed Oracle was on the force, for no other reason than the way she occasionally turned a phrase. Men and women in law enforcement, they were unique creatures, and easily recognizable as such. Vigilantes were, in real life, cut from much the same cloth - men and women in uniform, pushed too far by a non-functioning system. “May I come in?” she asked, nonplussed and refined, as if being a wheelchair was as significant as finding a stone in your show. “I met your Quinn this morning,” she clarified, wanting Oracle to know she had a legitimate reason for her visit, one that was not merely curious.
Gwen’s reaction was subtle but immediate. The smile was a touch colder, and somehow even smaller. This was a business call.
As much as she didn’t want her to come in, Gwen had a very good feeling that she wasn’t going to go away if she said no. Instead she rolled back and swung the door open when she cleared the distance. If they were going to have a conversation, if this Penelope Worth was going to keep calling her Oracle and mentioning Quinn, she’d prefer it not happen in the hallway. “Sorry I didn’t responded to your last email. Things have been a little... hectic.” She gestured for the woman to come in. “You met Quinn?” she asked, once the door was finally closed.
Oh, there was no one in the hallway; Alfie had made certain of that, but she took the invitation, as if it had been offered with all the graciousness in the universe, and she stopped in the center of the living room. “I understand. There is no need for apology. I appreciate your caution. It ensures the safety of people who matter to me,” she assured Oracle, and she made her way to a couch and nodded toward it. “If I may?” she asked, not wanting to tower over the woman when they spoke. She might have used her business tone to get in the door, but her intentions were hardly financial. “Please, call me Alfie,” she said, and she waited for a name in return. She didn’t call Thomas Batman in friendly conversation, and she did not intend to call this woman Oracle in friendly conversation. “I assure you, I am trustworthy. You have no cause for concern.”
“Please.” She asked to sit on the couch and Gwen nodded, her hand gesturing for her to take a seat. She knew that her name was what being asked for a moment she hesitated, as she always did. These days she felt more Oracle than anyone else but she wasn’t completely without manners. “Gwen.” Alfie had given her her real name and she felt it was only polite to respond in kind. The other woman did, after all, have Batman’s trust. She should have Oracle’s too then. “Gwen Dailey.”
Alfie took the seat that was offered, and she thought of something as she moved, a story she’d read, long ago in Musings, about Commissioner Dailey’s daughter being injured. She didn’t mention it, however, wouldn’t mention it. She had always thought Oracle competent, always respected her because Thomas respected her, but her own admiration grew in that moment. The woman had made a difference, even after something terrible had happened, and that counted for quite a bit where Alfie was concerned. It would have been easy, she knew, to give up. Gwen had not; she’d become Oracle, and Oracle had made her mark.
“Your young charge, she was sitting on the doorstep of Aubade this morning, waiting on a friend,” Alfie told her. “We had a small discussion about her future, and she mentioned you. I’d like to help, if I may, and I suspect you would be the person best able to tell me what is needed.” She gave her a smile that was entirely comprised of equality; this was no offer of charity. “She seems to have no career plans to speak of.”
Once Alfie was seated Gwen leaned forward, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair and her chin on her hands. She had mentioned Quinn earlier but she assumed that it was more of an explanation as to why she knew where they lived. She didn’t anticipate her being the actual topic of discussion. “She doesn’t....” Gwen trailed off. Her initial and immediate answer to that included a revelation that wasn’t, frankly, none of her business. Instead she addressed the other comment. “What kind of help?”
“I was hoping you could help me with that,” Alfie admitted. “I asked her to think of things she could see herself doing if she were physically unable to scale buildings with a grappling hook in her evening hours.” She sounded disapproving of that, but it wasn’t disapproval of the woman across from her. She was old, but she still remembered what she’d been like at Quinn’s age. “I am not suggesting you can control her,” she clarified, and she smiled. “No more than anyone else can control their wards.” It was a reference to Thomas’ repeated attempts to keep Luke out of his kevlar. “They can be headstrong, but she needs a plan, something that involves more than what she has now,” she said practically.
Alfie’s look was frank, then. “I know I am putting my nose where it does not belong, and perhaps I am growing soft in my old age. I am not a particularly kind woman, nor am I particularly maternal or altruistic,” she clarified. “But I respect you, and that child looked like she should have a backpack slung over her shoulder. If there is something I can do to that end, please allow me to.”
Gwen’s gaze was steady as she listened to Aflie. She had a point. Quinn did belong in school. If there was ever an advocate for an education, it was her. Assistance was certainly a nice idea but Gwen couldn’t help but bristle at the insinuation that she wasn’t or hadn’t done enough to try getting Quinn in that direction. She had known Quinn for years and they had tried. The problems that prevented the younger woman from learning were hard to get around, and had actually gotten worse since they had crossed the portal. They were making progress, slow going progress at that, but someone thought there was something she wasn’t doing right.
“Quinn isn’t my ward,” she replied solemnly. “I can’t and don’t control her. I don’t make decisions for her. Despite looking young, I assure you she isn’t. She’s an adult, in my eyes and in the law’s.” One was a lie and one wasn’t, but they were said with equal ferocity through almost clenched teeth. “If she doesn’t want to go to school, I’m not going to make her.” There was no mention of abilities, lack there of, or any roadblocks. Those were not Gwen’s secrets to tell and she wouldn’t, even if Quinn didn’t care if she did.
“I’ve offended you,” Alfie said plainly. “It was not my intention, I assure you. I respect you, and I have no doubt that if there was a way to help the child, you would have.” That was true, of course. She’d realized that as soon as she’d realized who Quinn. “I am only offering additional assistance. If school is not an option, perhaps something else is. She needs something more than what she does in the evenings. And you must admit that something that sent her to bed tired at the end of a long day, well, it could hardly hurt.”
Alfie stood. “I believe I have overstayed my welcome, but I thank you for taking the time to listen. As I said, it was not my intention to offend you.” She nodded once, and she turned for the door.
Gwen’s hands opened up in a slightly helpless, slightly exasperated gesture. The older woman was moving toward the door and she made no real move to stop her, not with her patience was still taut. But she had asked the Bat once about this woman and he said he trusted her. She said she would too. It was supposed to be as simple as that. Days like this she regretted going through the portal, if only because everything seemed so much more complicated here than it ever was back at Musings.
“With all due respect, Alfie, I know very little about you other than that you’re his friend,” she didn’t bother to specify who the he was, “and that you handle his finances. You say that you respect me but you don’t know much about me. Or Quinn, actually, other than what she’s told you earlier and I know she’s not much of a conversationalist. Today’s obvious breach in security aside, I tend to keep our tracks pretty clean. I’m going to guess that whatever you do know about us you’ve gathered from him. So if he let you believe that I’m someone who would blindly and easily let a stranger - a well referenced stranger, I’ll give you that - swoop in and try to take care of things for me then I’m sorry to say that you’re mistaken and he doesn’t know me as well as I thought.” Gwen exhaled softly as she finished her speech. That was much franker than she expected but she held her ground. The conversation already had an air of finality. She didn’t think she could make it any worse than by speaking her mind.
“He has told me nothing, Gwen,” Alfie explained. “I have my own information and my own sources. Some of which overlap with his, and others which do not. And you are correct, I do merely handle the finances, but it goes much, much further than being an accountant for the Brandon family, at least for me. Today, on my doorstep, I encountered a child who told informed me of her name and her intention to visit someone who has my completely loyalty. She informed me she had no plans for her future. When she can no longer swing from roof to roof on a zipline, what will she do then?” She walked to the door, and she put her fingers on the doorknob. “I was merely hoping you could provide some clarity in how I could best assist. I apologize for any offense I have caused you.” She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “My desire to be of service in this, of course, remains. This conversation does not change that. Good day to you, Oracle.”