Laughter could be heard, peeling off gently from nearby conversations. People, dressed in attires more expensive than most people's yearly rent, huddled together like flocks of peacocks. Earrings dangling, necklaces gleaming and watch hands ticking away in a diamond encrusted circle.
From the way they talked, held themselves and looked, all of it just positively oozed their privilege. Their ignorance to the idea of going hungry for a day...when a fad new diet wasn't on the table. The breathed, tasted and exuded wealth.
Sure, maybe their family life wasn't all that functional but tonight, in that room filled with their own peers, they didn't show it.
'They're hiding a hickey.' Eyes, acting akin to a pairing knife, peeled away the surface. Peered beyond that thin veil obscuring the truth. Brown like mud but glinting in the dim light. They scanned over a man's exposed collar bone, a heavy application of mix-match make-up barely hiding a love bite. Maybe it would hold up during his conversation with who seemed to be the man's fiancee' but from how the product was beginning to smudge through his pure white button-up shirt, it seemed like he would have some questions to answer. 'Especially if you don't stop sweating.'
People watching had always been a fun past time, now more than ever with Albert's social batteries thoroughly drained. And now, all he wanted to do was be left alone for the rest of the night. Thinking and doing nothing. Not even the, frankly disastrous, events with Moore were enough to jump start his mind. Instead, he crumpled that little issue into an itty bitty paper ball and toss it at the back of future hims' head. Preferably, a version of him that had gotten his morning coffee.
So, in hopes of not running into another schemer the teen found himself an out of the way location that still allowed him to observe comfortably without being drawn into the various activities of the night. And with how many other scandalous events had occurred, it seemed that people had generally forgotten about him.
Not like he could blame them. Just sitting there quietly was enough for him to get a good few nuggets of gossip. From catching cheaters, break-ups and even a few friendship ending in an explosion of drama. His situation was barely more than an appetizer for the night.
Something, he was more than grateful for.
'Now,' A mere spark, just enough juice to force his raw cogwheels to begin spinning. Something of great importance. 'How am I going to get home?'
Obviously, Barbara had been his ride home and with that bridge thoroughly burned, things had gotten a tad bit more complicated. Walking in itself was completely out of the question. The likelihood of him being arrested for 'loitering' in a neighborhood as nice as this was high, and while getting home from the police station would be infinitely easier than at this place, it would be like walking into the red head's territory. He had no idea when her father would find out about the things said tonight but it being while he was in a holding cell sounded like the worst possible time.
Sure, he knew James Gordon wasn't that kind of man….but it was still never a good idea to test a father.
'Should I just call Cedar?'
Since 'The Incident', he'd been trying heavily to take a step back from Madame Clements and her organization. Like Marceline said, he should've been allowed within twenty feet of that cursed thing. Just the carelessness and lack of oversight involving that situation had severely cut down on his willingness to rely on Madame Clements too heavily….but to be fair, he shouldn't have been playing around with his abilities on an unknown artifact. One that even his own skills were telling him was bad news. Everyone involved had been careless but only he paid the consequences for his mistakes.
With the contract he signed, he knew it was only a matter of time before they're knocking on his door to fulfill his obligations but for now, it seemed like a better idea to give the relationship some space.
But if it came down to calling a taxi or walking...biting the bullet sounded like a much better deal. Especially since he normally only carried around twenty-five bucks on him at any one given time. That was there was no way a cab would even be willing to drive anywhere such a 'cursed' and 'haunted' block. They would probably just assumed that it was either a prank or a spot to be robbed blind.
Suddenly, a hand snaked out of the darkness. Using his lack of awareness to completely slip past his personal bubble. A mere touch was all he needed to try shooting to his feet, alarm bells ringing in his head as a single gloved hand fumbled for his insurance. One hand pressed roughly into his shoulder, forcing him further down in the chair with enough force to cause his rising motion to be completely shattered. Completely immobilizing him with such ease it was a bit insulting, if he were to be honest.
Collapsing back, he could feel the air being forced out of his lungs causing his vision to water around the edges. He might've been struck while unaware, but that didn't mean he was completely out of commission. Just as his finger tips grazed the plastic handle, a chill ran down his spine. Like a frigid finger running up and down his spine. And for the first time since this little 'scuffle', he looked up into inhumanly apathetic, black eyes.
"Yanny honey," A somewhat familiar voice, rich and regal like how he imagined how old medieval royals once sounded. "As much as I love seeing you manhandle other people, I've had my fill for now."
'Yanny' was a lot bigger than he looked in the mirror. Standing well over six feet in height and a rather lean build that belied his monstrous strength. With short cropped brown hair combed back neatly, giving him an air of refined reality. Like a butler. And wearing a three-piece suit that easily rivaled or exceeded the value of the average attendee's attire. A narrowed face and skin as pale as chalk, the man could be described as handsome. As in handsome enough to be the completely shirtless main love interest plastered on the cover of a sappy, vampire romance novel.
Again, if it wasn't for those eyes. Orbs of inky black, inhuman and bottomless. Like there was even a spark of life behind that face, a puppet wearing the flesh of mankind mockingly.
And there was only person that he know of that could control this living weapon.
Albert ceased his useless struggle, staying as still as a statue as that cold hand reached into every single pocket. Frisking him down for a few seconds before retracting. He could watch on helplessly at the two objects being taking taken away from him.
The servant (?), didn't even glance at the pairing knife before tucking it away in his own pocket before flipping the teen's phone open and beginning to look through it systematically.
Sitting there in silence, he didn't dare move a single muscle. Heart thumping loudly in his ears, he kept his gaze forward. Not even daring to glance in the direction of the heiress.
'I know Adriannus said she'll come find me...but I didn't think it was going to be this soon!' He wanted to cry, not in terror anything but simply at the unfairness of it all. 'I thought rich people were suppose to be slow to move and act?!'
He'd thought he would have enough to prolong their meeting until another day, maybe being dragged into an alley or waking up to see them lounging in his office like they owned the place. But it seemed like that hope was quickly dashed.
After looking through his phone, the device was tossed into his lap. Bouncing off his thigh to clatter and skid across the hardwood floor.
"Nothing?" He could hear the women ask, before her blurry form moved in the corner of his eye. "Good. Then this nothing more than a normal conversation. Back down, Yanny."
Finally, the man no longer loomed so tall and took a few audible steps back to behind his mistress. And for the first time since all this started, Albert felt safe enough to crane his head to the side to get a look at his impromptu companion.
There, a women looking to be in her late twenties sat with a queen's grace. Chestnut brown hair tumbled down her narrow shoulders, possessing fair skin without a single blemish in sight. Wearing a deep maroon strapless dress that hugged tightly on her thin waist and hung precariously to expose a wide window of cleave. Ending just above a pair of black high heels that for sure added a good few inches to her short stature.
A pair of crimson lips spread into a knowing grin, presenting rows of pearly white teeth. Perfect in shape and alignment. So much so that it made even him a bit self conscious about opening his mouth too often in fears of showcasing his own inferior collection.
'Maybe I could floss some more.'
And while, yes the women across from him was very attractive, that in itself wasn't that surprising. Everyone there was. That and with who he hung out with on a nearly daily basis kind-of made him somewhat resistant to beauty, just locking gazes was enough for any attraction he might've had to go flying out of the window.
Her make up was perfect, not needing all that much. Some eyeliner here, a barely perceptible layer of eye shadow there and a very light application of rouge. Just enough to highlight her natural beauty.
But if there was flaw to her make-up, it was the fact that it really highlighted her eyes.
'She's completely off her rocker.'
The brunette had a pair of deep blue eyes, large and wide. They simply devoured everything in it's way. Glassy like she wasn't fully present but still stared at him with such intensity that it felt like he was in some predator's cross-hairs.
"We haven't been formally introduced," She held out an outstretched hair, her black painted nail on full display. "My name is Samantha Winstanley, third in line of the Winstanley Estate."
"It is a pleasure to you, Miss Winstanley. My name is Albert Nelson."
Slowly, like approaching a mountain cat, he barely took the woman's hand in his. Keeping an eye on her silent guardian to notice anything that might signify him crossing any boundaries.
"The pleasures all mine." Samantha took her hand back, soft laughter on her lips. "But please, call me Samantha. None of this 'miss' nonsense."
"Of course."
Like he was going to do that, it would be better just to avoid using her name at that point.
"As much as I like pleasantries, there is why I have approached you. And I suspect you know as well?"
"Yes."
Lying or playing the fool wouldn't help him in the slightest here. Especially not with that enforcer just hovering just outside of their conversation, like a spectral dagger held to the throat. Ready, at a mere flick of the fingers, to completely and utterly end him at mere whiff of any falsehood. Sure, she would get her due if he were to 'disappear' by a sudden blonde with a baseball bat but by then it wouldn't really matter for obvious reasons.
"Good." She clapped, that smile never meeting her eyes. "Then you also must know that because you weren't taken from the streets with a bag over your head that this is merely a conversation. You can thank that softy, Adrian, for that."
'That asshole.'
As much as he wanted to be angry with the host that probably immediately went to go inform her of what happened, it was simply the best move to do. The guy needed as many ways to curry favor for his brother's situation and this was something small. She would've found out about it eventually, especially once Moore's goons sobered up a bit and got scared enough to inform her themselves.
At least the guy vouched for him in the end.
"And I've also heard some interesting things as well, why don't you walk me through your thought process. What made you have second thoughts? You obviously found us, accidental or not. You could've recorded our conversation, barged in and taken some photos and be done with it."
"Well," If she knew that much, it was safe to say Moore's goons had already ran and snitched on him. So it was likely she already knew his reasons why but wanted to hear them for herself. Probably to run under the possible lie detector that was her shadow. "I know in the future I'll be working with clients to catch their partner's infidelity….but I think it's better if I don't catch them in the act itself. It feels kind-of wrong to take intimate photos of someone unaware. And also, if my client feels jilted or wronged who knows if they won't release those intimate photos out for the world to see? Or if my phone is hacked or something. It sounds like revenge porn to me and I don't want anything to do with that."
The women stared at him silently for a moment, taking extra care to scrutinize every minute detail. Every tick, every enunciation and really take in his answer. Whether at face value or trying to gleam some secondary meaning. Holding up her hand, that specter pressed in closed to her ear. Using her fingers to block the man's lips from being seen, a barely audible whisper could be heard.
Tendrils of awareness struck out, past the gentle music, beyond the distance to capture just a single snippet.
"No falsehoods."
Forcing his relief down deep, the teen simply sat there as the mumbling continued. At this point, there were no other actual words being spoken. Just mumbling and she even took the time to nod her head a few times as though she was receiving some grand insight. But he knew it was strictly for show, a tactic to make him believe there was something more.
After all, it was always unnerving to have two people whisper right in front of someone. To make them feel like they were talking about them, triggering a few paranoid thoughts to go shooting through their head. To make one believe that they slipped up somewhere and needed to clear the air before anything was set in stone.
But acting as if he wasn't affected by their little scheme could possibly negatively affect his standing. Making him seem like a larger than he actually was.
'Or maybe that's what she expects me to do?'
Just the mere thought of the layers upon layers of scheming and intrigue he would have to unravel if he were to dare go down that path made him internally shake his head. If he started thinking like that, then he would be there all night. Falling into an eternal spiral, like a dog chasing it's own tail. A fruitless effort that would not only exhaust him further but also extend this conversation farther than required.
So, he allowed himself to relax. Tapping his foot to an unheard beat, clasping and unclasping his hands, even taking that instance to take a 'nervous' look at the area. Instantly noting the clearly diminished population of people in the room. And the few braver occupants stayed on the far end, making any form of eavesdropping obvious and ill advised. Honestly, he kind-of felt it would've been better to make his escape once he was people making their retreat.
"Okay." Samantha nodded, releasing her grip to allow that specter to slink back behind her. Those empty eyes staying locked onto him at all times. "I guess that's good enough. And while what you did for Harold was appreciated, it wasn't required. Patrick Moore would be an absolute fool to touch even try touching a single hair on his head. Harold is one of us and Moore, is not. But do tell me, why risk yourself like that? You didn't know Harold, he could've been a terrible person and you were so willing to stick your neck out for him."
"There's multiple reasons," From what he gathered through out the night, speaking ill of Moore wouldn't attract any dire consequences. As in their eyes, the teen and he were at the same social level. Commoners. One was just too ambitious for his own good. "For one, I didn't appreciated being forced into taking the job. Secondly, he knowingly put me in a lose-lose situation. Either I become public enemy number one here or have my home possibly demolished. It would've wound up with me under his thumb no matter what...but that was before I knew he wasn't as powerful as he portrayed himself as. Thirdly, the guy is delusional. Whether it was from some lie his father told him or what, but he honestly believed you two were engaged. Or at least, in an arranged relationship. Cordial at worst. And combine that with how petty he was, he's not the sort of person I would work with willingly. In fact, he's probably going to be reason I do background checks on all future clients or at least require a questionnaire to see how sound in mind someone is."
"You should've already had that in place. But who am I to tell you how to run your business." Shrugging she continued. "Passable reasons. You may present your business card to me."
"….." Albert just looked at the woman, darting his eyes between her and the apparition hovering just above them. He couldn't help the spike of suspicion that welled up deep within him. "Forgive my impertinence, but I imagine someone of your standing could easily find yourself a highly skilled investigator for anything you need. If you're doing so because you believe we would be more willing to perform….less than legal operations then I must inform you that I will not kill anyone for you. No matter how much you pay."
"That's positively splendid to hear." That smile, broken and unhinged spread to encompass nearly half of her face. Showcasing every single tooth, lips stretched to the limits. And for the first time, those glassy orbs flickered with life for just a moment. "I don't require your hand in those matters. What I require is your anonymity. Nothing more."
It was a risk. From this short interaction, she was clearly the sort of person he wouldn't want as a client. Manipulative, well connected and possessing a few lose screws. But really, did he have a choice?
Almost on reflex, his fingers reached into his inner pocket before freezing in place. Brown eyes looked up to lock with an inhuman gaze. Like a frozen dagger held up to his neck, he didn't dare more a single muscle. Not even allowing his lungs to decompress.
Just like in the room, he could easily see how the next few seconds could go. Him stupidly reaching into his pocket and before whipping out something to the heiress. Only to have every bone in his still mending arm broken as he shadow lashed out with cruel abandoned. It didn't matter that 'Yanny' searched him personally, didn't matter if he was unarmed of anything dangerous. That gaze spoke of easy violence.
Shivering in place, the teen instead fully opened his jacket. Showcasing the little, inner pocket filled with a sparse few remaining cards. With deliberate slowness, under the visibly amused gaze of the brunette, he clasped a single thin sheet and instead of handing it to her directly, held it out to the side between two fingers.
With a single nod, the shadow stalked forward. Not fully but just enough to snatch the card out of his grip, before examining it closely. Sniffing and glancing every which way before even brushing the surface against Albert's forehead. Seeing no visible reaction, the servant retreated. Gently placing the business card in his mistress's outstretched palm.
Blue eyes glanced over over it's surface. Running over every line and word.
"The Seeking Eye Agency? A bit too on the nose, no?"
"I like it."
Harley might've thought differently, but she wasn't here right now to argue her belief that instead of 'Agency', he should've used 'Establishment'. For the acronym 'S.E.E.' alone, to really drive home his obvious obsession with eyes.
"It's your business." Samantha shrugged once, before slipping the card in a nearly invisible pocket on her dress and standing to her feet. "Come now Yanny, I grow weary of this soiree. It was a pleasure to meet you, Albert Nelson. I will inform you if I have any work available. Have a pleasant night."
"You too, Miss."
****
"Hey!"
Albert snapped his head the voice's direction, a small bit of relief filling him as he saw a pair of friendly and familiar faces. There, two girls waved him down as he was passing an open study.
One a tall and athletic blonde, and the other a shorter, brunette.
"Hey to you too." Slipping into the room, he greeted before dropping his voice down an octave. "How did operation 'Treasure Planet' go?"
"It was a total bust." Marceline huffed, her skin looking a few degrees paler than it did earlier in the night. "Who would've guessed rich people were so stingy?"
"Everyone."
Angeline butted in and he couldn't help but nod in agreement.
"I know that in life it's an uphill battle to get anything from them, but I thought maybe spending a decade or two in death would help them realize that their earthly possessions were no longer of any use to them! But no! All of them refused and instead just tried to get me to somehow resurrect them for cash! Do they think I'm some sort of genie? It's like they never heard of those old wives tales! But...that doesn't mean the night was completely fruitless...just not in the way I thought. That can wait though, how did your night go?"
"Uh...I suspect you already know?"
He could see it in their eyes, their stances. Each of them had a consoling look to them and even Angeline looked a bit kinder. Whether it was her trying to change after her apology earlier that night or something, it was still an odd sight to see.
"Yeah champ." Marceline put a cold hand on his shoulder, squeezing as she tried to smile. "We heard...and saw. But not in that order."
"Did you see us arguing?"
It would be way more embarrassing to have their spat observed by his own friends than an entire party-soiree filled with strangers.
"No...uh, well you…"
"I'll tell him." The blonde put her hand on his other shoulder, a serious countenance evident. "While we were finishing up, we accidentally stumbled across them together...Not together as bumpjng uglies but it did look like they were trying to find somewhere private. We only found out about your fight afterwards."
"Sorry Albert, I know it's not ideal but...you'll find someone! I just know it, things just didn't work out this time around."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. My first relationship was also a disaster, caught him trying to steal some my mom's used underwear."
"What?" That threw him for a loop, it was ridiculous like something straight out of an adult film. But just possessing a more realistic ending. "Really? There has to be a story to that!"
"Smut-Brain Stanley." Marceline nodded sagely, that small smile on her lips looking less natural and more strained. "Listen here young one, I will bring you to a time before your conception. The day was dreary, clouds weeping and the city matched that moo-"
"That's for another time." Angeline broke in, to both of their disappointment. "But back to you, she was your ride right? Marcy and I were about to leave, so if you want I can take you home. It'll be no problem at all, really."
"You sure?" While it was relief to know he could put that small worry behind him, he didn't know if he would be interfering in some after party events they might have set up. "I don't want to interrupt what you guys have going on."
"Dude," The brunette elbowed his side, her large eyes looking at him as if he was an idiot. "I don't know about you but I plan on getting this make-up off me and crashing at Lin's place for the night. Maybe we'll swing by the video store to pick up a spooky movie or two but even that's up for debate."
"You'll be watching those alone then, I gotta get up early tomorrow for my run."
"See? We've got nothing going on!"
"Okay...thank you. I really do appreciate it."
He could feel it, a warm spot in his heart slowly blooming. Having good friends was healing for the soul.
"Ah!" Another voice, familiar in all the wrong ways spoke up from the doorway. And turning, they saw the last person any of them wanted to see. There, in his expensive suit, short stature and intensive gaze, stood the man of the hour. Ward of the Wayne Family, adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Dick Grayson himself. "I thought I heard someone. Miss Gramercy, a pleasure."
"The pleasures all mine." The blonde's smile was stiff, fake and barely cordial. And from the way she stepped in-front of her shorter friend, something must've happened to cause her to become hostile to the ward. "What can we do for you?"
"Nothing from you but more from your friend here, Albert Nelson." Dick nodded at him, a smile equally as stiff on his face. Hard blue eyes constantly shifted from her back to him.
"What is it?"
Befitting of his persona, he wasn't required to be polite. As from the view of everyone else, this was the guy who caused his date's and his separation. Acting like nothing happened would only spark more questions. More concerning that maybe he might get lumped in with those people who enjoyed, in Moore's words, getting 'cucked' by the Waynes.
"Simple, I heard you were a freelance private investigator." His eyes narrowed, smile becoming more strained. Looking more like a snarl than anything friendly. "And I saw a few of your cards in the trash. I am interested in possibly hiring you for a few jobs. So I'm hoping you have some more."
A slash, a crude one but a still a blow against his ego.
Now, what would a scorned teen like him do in a situation like this? Spitting in the eye of this rich person would be a mistake. No matter what, he was still a Wayne. A member of the First Families of Gotham. This entire city was his playground and if he wanted something, he could get it. So despite knowing Dick wouldn't abuse that position, that wasn't information the general population had.
And combine that with the near frantic tugging of his sleeve from Angeline, she herself was trying to warn him in her own way.
Swallowing openly and with gritted teeth full on display, Albert took out one of his few remaining cards and held almost forced it into the teen's hands.
"Here you go."
He felt it was better to growl those words out, like he was some sort of rabid dog ready to break from it's leash. And tried pushing past him, only to feel as though he'd walked head first into a wall of flesh.
'Stupid Bruce.' He grumbled as he waited for the monster in human skin to move out of the way. 'What kind of steroids are you feeding this guy?'
"Thank you." Dick stuffed the card away, his smile shrinking to a microscopic level. Hard blue eyes stared cooly up at him, a serious edge to them. "But to clear up any confusion, I believe you owe Miss Gordon an apology. There is nothing going on between us to warrant the way you spoke to her."
There was only one answer to someone meddling in business that wasn't their own, especially when a teen with hurt feelings was involved.
"Who the fu-"
"He'll take your words into consideration." Angeline quickly cut in between them, using her body to break off any possible contact. Allowing a small hand to 'yank' him past the two and down the hall. "Have a goodnight, Mr. Grayson."
"You too, Miss Gramercy."
The last thing Albert saw before the three of them turned the corner was that dark silhouette standing in the doorway. Hard, cold blue eyes staring down him like he was nothing more than prey. Orbs that spoke of unspeakable violence, framed by a face etched in stone. That oh so familiar scowl evident on his face.
In that moment, it would be so easy to overlap a photo of the Robin from the Teen Titan's animated television show with the real person behind them. A complete match.
'I'll keep an eye out for any ledges tonight.'
After all, the double knee of death was still something he wanted anything to do with.
(A/N: The Soiree is done! Honestly, as much I enjoyed this mini-arc it needed to end and I'm going to be so much happier to go back to the streets of Gotham! All this intrigue was cooking my brain alive! Thank you guys for reading and supporting me! I will see you folks next week!)