Re: Batcave: Cat & Bat
She rolled her eyes. "Don't try to con a con, Mr. Wayne." But it didn't bother her, not really. It should, and she knew it was sign that what Ivy said was true; she was going soft, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Oh, she was still angry, but sitting there, with him being nice to her? It made all that bile seem less important. She should hate him for that, for that ability to drag her off the defensive without even meaning to. But it had been a long, hard year, and she wasn't feeling like hating him.
Lucky, lucky Bat.
"It's no worse than any of our Gothams. Like I told Babs, she'll grow up here. We all spend our lives missing home. For her? This will be home." That felt reassuring to her somehow, but then she didn't hate this Gotham as much as everyone else did, and she never had. It was hard to hate a place that was less lethal. Oh, she hated the fact that everyone disappeared, but that wasn't Gotham. That was the hotel, and she was getting to the point where she was actually willing to re-engage with the new version of Stevie, which probably said something about her psyche as well.
And maybe it was the toxin, the tremble in her frame or the way the blacks of her eyes gradually eclipsed the green more and more, but she tipped her head and looked at him without any feline pretense. "Will there ever be time, do you think?" she asked. And, oh, the question was entirely too plain, too direct, but blame that on the toxin too.