Sneaking around a mansion normally wasn't an all too difficult of a job, the owners were probably in a completely different wing and barely ever moved. It was usually the servants they needed to worry about, they were mobile threats. Routinely checking every corner for even a speck of dust and if something was moved, the cleaning staff were more likely to recognize that fact especially if they knew they were the only ones who even bothered to come to that particular room.
But, all that tended to go out the window during large social events. The staff were probably ordered to cut down their patrol to avoid embarrassing guests that even their employers couldn't ever hope to offend. The primary danger then shifted to the guests themselves. Nonsensical and most likely, drunk. Unpredictability made looking for anything of note an uphill battle.
All it would take to blow their cover, was just some clueless scion stumbling into them while looking for a place to get away with some staff member that caught their fancy. Not an insurmountable issue, horny people were often anything but quiet. There would be a clear cue for them to hop into the rafters or slip behind some furniture to hide.
Things became a lot more difficult with a visibly fuming women muttering with a viciousness that it sounded like she was casting some sort of curse on some poor idiot's entire bloodline.
Not that Dick could honestly blame her, if what he could extract from her was even remotely accurate then there was noway he would've had as much patience as she did.
This Nelson guy wasn't someone important nor was he connected to anyone that could really do anything if he just decided to punch the asshole in the nose. In fact, if their planned meeting went awry then he was sure no one would care if he leaned into that violent reputation built up from his obvious disdain for everything these 'elites' represented.
He just couldn't understand it. Sure, he'd felt jealous seeing Barbara practically glued to the side of their target's hip but none of that had been directed towards the red head. In fact, there hadn't even been a single thought to turn and verbally attack her. Instead, all of it had been funneled towards his 'rival'.
She was a good person. Smart, funny and generally a pretty nice individual. Always willing to overlook obvious flaws to really get to know someone. But most importantly of all, she wasn't affected by the glamour of wealth. She didn't treat him any different when discovering their secret identity. Sure, there had been some blackmail involved but it primarily had to do with being taken as an apprentice instead of billions of dollars she could've extracted for years to come.
In shortest terms, she did not deserve to be talked to in that way. Not by her closest friends, family, enemies or lovers. But especially not by some stranger that didn't know the first thing about her.
"-pe his feet blister and bruise when he's forced to walk home! Ungrateful bastard!" Despite zoning out for a few seconds there, it was pretty easy to figure out the gist of the conversation. Another long line of curses interspersed by shuffling through a few blank papers in some random drawer before violently shoving them back and place with heavy slam. "Can you believe what he said?! To call me, ME of all people a gold digging slut?! It makes no sense! And besides, why the hell would I flirt with someone I see as a little brother?! Does he not see how gross that is?! How could he just assume that?! I've been nothing but nice and accommodating of him and this is how I am treated?! Screw that gu-"
Dick quickly turned away from the rampaging girl to focus on yet another 'secret' compartment embedded into the lining of a near recliner, using his back to hide the flash of pain striking at his heart. It didn't if she was repeated the same argument again and again, it didn't matter if this was the third or fourth time hearing it, those were still like a heavy chisel to his heart.
All over the internet, from guys at school and in movies, there was a dreaded zone of no return. The Friend Zone. An infinite void where millions of men cry out into the emptiness of their own desire. A place filled with despair, depression, anger and loss. Constantly being forced to relive the simple fact that for some reason or another, they were not found worthy to be a women's romantic partner.
Maybe a bit dramatic, but for a lot of guys it was worse than death and most of them would just drop the relationship in some misguided attempt to gain power back or to inflict a sort of harm on the 'cruel' women.
But he would argue that in that moment, it would've been better to be in The Friend Zone than where he was currently.
The dark and sticky pit of the Brother Zone.
A fate truly worse than death. Something that would completely take the sails out of any further attempts to leave. There was no hope as even worse, she saw him a 'little' brother. LITTLE. Someone she needed to look out for, someone that made it impossible for her to look at him as nothing more than that twelve year boy when they first met. A person that needed her to vet out any of his potential lovers to see if they were up to snuff.
Sometimes, life just wasn't fair. What did that Nelson guy have he didn't?! He'd never in his life seen Barbara this worked up before and now some random guy comes along and suddenly she can't stop cursing his name?!
"If I may, Miss Gordon." A weathered but refined voice pipped up suddenly and he froze momentarily. Institutionally, he reached down to fix the few loose buttons. Straightened out his custom suit jacket and even stood a bit firmer. From one of his ears, the voice continued. "Please, allow me to add my experience to mix."
"…." Even Barbara froze for a moment, her mindless flipping ceasing as she looked off into the distance with a face turning a few degrees brighter. Before her green eyes beamed with excitement. "Go on, Alfred. Please, prove my point! I was not flirting!"
"I do not know how to say this, Miss." Alfred paused, sounding just as dignified as ever, before continuing. "But I will be blunt. Back in my day, if I saw my date acting so chummy with some random wealthy bloke, I would've tossed my glove in his face and we would be rolling around in the backyard like back-alley hoodlums."
"…."
If hell froze over, it wouldn't be nearly as frosty as it was then in that room. His eyes flicked up to ceiling, scanning for any spontaneous icicles forming above.
"In fact." As though the old man wasn't aware of the thin ice he was treading upon, he actually began to reminiscence in a slightly wistful tone. "I remember this absolutely gorgeous women I was once saw a strapping young lad. It was at one of my family's parties. I had just sparked up the nerve to ask her to dance when some known miscreant swaggered in there like he owned the place and began to actively pursue her while I was holding her hand! It was an insult my hotblooded self couldn't take and we proceeded to verbally squabble for a good while. Causing a mighty large scene! It took us about fifteen minutes to realize she'd ran off and left the party entirely!"
"Let me tell you, my father was a mighty bit crossed! Gave me rod, he did. For embarrassing the family and thinking with my other head." Despite that story causing a flash of concern to cross between both him and Barbara, the old man didn't sound sad or angry or really anything but nostalgic. "But getting back on track, I do not agree with the way he talked you Miss Gordon. In fact, he deserved a whole bar of soup his mouth. I do not recommend proceeding further in a romantic relationship with him, if that was in the cards? He has already shown abusive behavior, it doesn't matter if he seems to be a Dismissive Avoidant. That does not excuse him."
"Isn't that when people push others away to avoid intimacy?"
It was a foggy memory from one of the routine lessons crammed into his head, Psychology wasn't his best subject and honestly, it didn't really interest him beyond a certain point. Being able to tell when someone was lying. Otherwise, there just seemed be a lot of sex And not the hot steamy stuff like the dusty books the butler thought he'd hidden well behind the philosophy section of their library. But the weird, uncomfortable stuff. Like Oedipus or Electra Complexes. Or even the weird Psycho-sexual stages.
Yeah, if all of psychology was anything like the stuff Sigmund Freud spouted, then Dick really wanted very little to do with the field.
"Very good, Master Dick. It seems our lessons have indeed been paying dividends." If anything, the old man sounded way too pleased. Pompously so. Like his nose was pointed straight in the air with an infuriating grin that spoke only a single sentence.
I told you so.
"I guess the signs fit…." Barbara muttered, brows creasing together. Looking scarily familiar to her father in that moment. All she needed now was a bushy mustache and it would complete the image. Something, he suspected would earn him all the ire in the world if he brought up right in that moment. "But just because he has AVPD (Avoidant Personality Disorder), that doesn't mean I have to excuse what he said."
"And no is asking you to, Miss Gordon." Alfred cajoled, and Dick could only look on as the older man somehow soothed the girl's erupting anger through an ear piece and a simple story. Maybe it helped that she often saw the butler as a bit of a grandfatherly figure, he didn't know. "That slap was very well deserved….what are you pouting about Master Bruce? I swear, I'm surprise your face hasn't gotten stuck like that."
"…" Silence never spoke so loudly in that moment, and it was so easy to imagine the large man sitting in that massive chair. Leaned backed, chin propped up on a cage interlocking fingers. Blue eyes staring a hole into the massive screen as they tried to peel back the very layer of reality. A scowl so prevalent that even the teen needed to check himself in the mirror at times to smudge it away. "AVPD does fit….just too well."
"You believe he was faking?" The butler hummed in thought. "That boy is a slippery one. A nasty one. Reminds me of those salmon in Alaska. If only we could've seen his face."
"...That can wait." Bruce pushed the topic to the side. "Dick, report on Hardwicks."
"The guy's chatty." He couldn't help but shiver at the way the fully grown man stuck to him like some sort of fawning maiden. And the amount of ass kissing was so great that it could've easily matched up to any interns first meeting with their CEO at Wayne Corp. "And desperate. He wasn't exactly asking to borrow money, but it was a close thing. He did agree to hand over some of his brother's notebooks in exchange for a favor."
"He wants our support to push for Gunther Hardwick to be released back to his family and spend the rest of his sentence on house arrest."
"…I will think about it." It was going to be a tough sell. Gunther Hardwick, leader of "The Terrible Trio", was un-ironically a very dangerous man. Not just for his technical genius that would've earned him a spot in Wayne Tech, but for his severely lacking emotional intelligence. Sure, Dick could understand getting bored with this life. And could even understand some good old trespassing or vandalizing a random building. But for one, the guy was thirty. Not some underprivileged youth but a grown man! And combine that with the violence of his crimes, it was always going to be bad idea to have someone like that running around. Gotham had enough problems. "But tell him this, house arrest won't be on the table. He and his friends did try killing a witness. And Sheldon Fallbrook has still yet to fully recover from their attack. Blackgate is in his future. But, I can pull some strings to get him sent to Portsmouth City. There's a rehabilitation center there."
"Got it."
It did leave a bit of a sour taste in his mouth, Rebecca Fallbrook had been a complete mess when she'd been passed along to him. The woman had clung to him so tightly that it had a question on whether or not she was ever going to let go. Combine that with the tears and snot soaking through his costume, Dick really didn't feel a lot of sympathy for Gunther Hardwick. Put the guy in Blackgate and be done with it.
"Barbara." Bruce 'turned' his attention to the red head, her green eyes snapping to attention as she was shaken out of her thoughts. "I will leave how you wish to deal with Nelson to you."
Translation: If you want to quit, I won't judge you.
Sometimes, there were perks to living with the man.
"Thanks... I'll think about it."
***
"Excuse me?"
Albert shuffled his way forward, attracting the eye of his newest target. A young man with blonde hair that suddenly looked completely out of place, who stood with who could be assumed to be his date. A brunette that did not look pleased to have their conversation interrupted.
"Ah yes?" The blonde looked over their impromptu interloper. Once, twice and the clear dismissal in his gaze was plain to see. "I don't have any loose change."
"Okay? That's not what I'm here for?"
Normally, a person would be pretty embarrassed to have mistaken someone for peddling. But these weren't 'normal' people. Each of the probably didn't possess even a single once of shame or just balls of steel.
"Oh." His expression didn't shift or even twitch. Like it was carved out of marble. "Then what is it you want?...I'm not taking any more cards."
"We're," The brunette pipped up, hugging closer to her dates side as she emphasized the single word. Even going as far as to take a half-step back to get outside of the investigator's reach. "Not taking any cards."
"I'm here for your help."
There simply wasn't a reason to hedge around the topic further, he really didn't feel like going down the list of rejections that felt far too practiced.
"Again," The young man's lips thinned into a hard line. "I do not have any loose change and I am not in the habit of lending just anyone money. Neither of us."
"I'm looking for someone. Do you know Barbara Gordon?"
"That stunning red head? Yes...Oh, now I recognize you." His date started, her eye now gleaming with interest. But it did nothing to hide how steely they became. "You're her date? I'm guessing it's more apt to say you USED to be her date."
"Yeah?" Albert looked down at his shoes, scales shifting inaudibly. The perfect display of embarrassment and shame. A tool of own. "That's why I'm trying to find her...to apologize but it's not going so well."
"If what I heard is true, then if someone had ever spoken to me like that I wouldn't ever want to see them again. And you would've been far worse off than you are now."
It was biting, words molded into a fine blade. Long and pointed, built to deliver a blinding stab before retreating.
"I know what I said was wrong." A truth struck out to deflect her probing strikes. "It's why I'm trying to find her...before anything happens."
"If you're worried about her running off to have a tryst with Grayson, there's no reason to worry." The blonde nodded sagely, and for a split second it could've been assumed this man had some form of empathy for those not born into his tax bracket. But what happened next completely disavowed anyone of that misconception. "It's already too late and there isn't really anything you can do. It was over the moment she caught Grayson's eye. But I'm not surprised, he was raised by Bruce Wayne of all people. And that man is notorious for being a homewrecker."
"You know I hate it when you talk like that." She batted at his shoulder a bit too hard to be considered playful. "You make it seem like every women would jump at the chance to be with a Wayne and wouldn't be able to control themselves. Your 'friends' are a bad influence. There are some people here who would drop their partner to be with a Wayne, but most of those people would leave their date anyone for someone they deem better."
"But what about that on-"
"I don't want to interrupt your date further," In a moment of kindness, Albert interrupted the man before he could accidentally dig himself a giant hole. It was clear she cared greatly for him, close too if how much they were glued to the hip. But that didn't mean she was willing to tolerate being demeaned. The guy's comment had touched a nerve and she'd very clear drawn a line in the sand. Stepping over it now would only result in a massive, relationship ruining argument. "But I just needed some ideas on where to look. Do either of you know of any popular areas to….get some alone time?"
"You could certainly say so." In that moment, the blonde looked all too pleased in that moment. A wide grin and smoldering eyes he focused entirely on his date. And just like that, the tension was broken. Shoulders loosening, jaw unclenching, the women actually blushed a bit under that gaze. Before turning back to their third wheel. "But yeah, I know of a few places. Upstairs is actually a pretty spot. On the far East wing, there's some out of the way rooms that can provide some privacy. I would check there first. The bathrooms could work as well, but it feels too sterile for our liking."
"Thank you." The teen nodded to the pair and took a step back to fully retreat from their bubble. "I really do appreciate it, have a good night you two."
"Good luck. But if you want her forgiveness, bring some flowers and her favorite wine." He leaned in a bit closer, stage whispering in a completely uncharacteristic manner. "And be prepared to rub her feet."
"I cannot believe you just told him that!"
The brunette barely held back from squealing. If before she'd batted his arm to show her displeasure, now the girl was outright slapping his shoulder repeatedly. Face flushed as her date broke out into real laughter. Not the haughty chuckle that everyone there seemed to have mastered to a 't'. Something genuine in the endless sea of dishonestly and betrayal.
Albert, not wanting to interrupt the heartfelt atmosphere, slipped into the crowd. Ignoring curious gazes being sent his way as a mental clock ticked away.
***
A few rooms, as the couple described, was a bit deceitful. By a long shot. The East Wing of the Elliot Mansion was a massive thing. Closed doors and twisting hallways. Each door had the same exact appearance as the rest, making it impossible to tell which was a bathroom and which was a bedroom or, a living room or a study.
And even from just getting off the stairs, he could see the rugs split of again in opposite directions at the far end of the wing. A single, dark window acting as a natural light source.
From nearby, there were smaller groups of people just hanging around. Leaned up against the wall with a glass in hand. Not at all acting like the stiff and proper elites those below wore like a second skin. In fact, they actually seemed approachable.
'Definitely not part of their ilk.' Just the fact they'd all been stuck up here like unwanted children spoke loud enough of their place at this gathering. Especially since they were hanging around in what constituted as the 'sex rooms'.
"Hello." But for Albert's dwindling deadline, these outcasts were perfect. "My name is-"
"We don't want to know your name." A dreary looking man interrupted, locks of black hair covering one hazel eye. "And you won't get our's either. Just in case."
"Very well." He began to rub his hands nervously, not entirely faking it. That threat swinging dangerously over him. "I just want to know if you saw a red head-"
"We haven't seen anyone." Another person pipped in, a stocky looking man whose suit didn't quite fit all that well. Sleeves a bit too high up on his arms and jacket hanging off his wide frame. "We're just relaxing up here away from the 'lords'."
The small group scoffed disjointedly, each showing their obvious displeasure of even being in the same area as them. But beneath all that angst, there was something more tender and vulnerable. That shield of toughness was razor thin and their true desires were plain to see for anyone looking close enough.
"Okay well...I guess I'm going then...to wonder…"
But, as much as they intrigued him there simply wasn't enough time. And thus began his hurried shuffle. Passing multiple of rooms, he tried to reach out a tendril of awareness through the doors. The material foiled that plan even more he began, as only light murmuring could be heard from a few rooms.
But frankly, that was fine. He did not expect to find his target this soon. If someone was going to cheat on their fiancee' then it would probably be somewhere more well hidden than a few rooms down from one of the giant stairs facing the main entrance.
There had been a method for his madness, asking that couple and even the group about the 'missing' Barbara. With both Batgirl and Robin in the same mansion, he didn't doubt exactly what they were doing. Snooping. Rummaging through files or garbage for something he simply wasn't aware of. Bruce Wayne played games on top of games. A fruitless endeavor to even try understanding or predicting.
It was all for his cover. As there was no way anyone would be willing to rat out one of their own like they were for Dick and Barbara. He suspected if he'd just begun asking around for Patrick's fiancee', someone who grew up with these people, then it wouldn't have been long before he was given the cold shoulder and maybe even thrown out. So instead, it was better to play the hopeless loser that had just tossed away his chances with a stunning beauty in a fit of insecurities. And now was fruitlessly searching high and low to find her before she found happiness in another man's arms...Dick's to be specific. That mushy romantic stuff usually reserved for the climax of a story or movie, now out in the open for them to watch on with bated breaths.
Passing by another room echoing some muffled moans, he took the left and disappeared from the groups' line of sight. And instantly, he launched down the dark hallway. Ripping that cloak off the hook, he wrapped himself in the skill. Allowing it guide his footfalls, to match the low music to his breathing and danced outside the range of light leaking out from beneath a few doors. Head tilted to one side as he slithered tendril after tendril through doors.
Sex, sex, and more sex. From moaning and groaning, to slapping or slurping sounds. Laughter and giggling, soothing nothings and talk so dirty that it made him want to barge into a random room just to use the bathroom to scrub out his ears. Room after room passed in a blur, far too many for him to just barge into each and every one.
Chest thumping, he froze in place as something new caught his attention.
A broken conversation that struck suddenly and violently.
"...dog….tore...crackhead...."
Laughter, so much laughter. Clapping hands, shouts of exaltation and cheers mixed with jeers. Definitely not sex noises, but more like what a group of people would sound while watching a sports game.
Creeping over, he barely put his ear up to the door. A feather's touch.
"I can't believe that bitch didn't leave!" Someone said, louder over the general hubbub in the room. "Her partner was way smarter! Besides! She wouldn't have even been able to get to the second round if he wasn't the sole target of Man-killer! What did she expect was going to happen after he left?"