Lunch with Diana

[moonshadows]

“…and you have a one o’clock with Diana,” Maeven finishes.

This addition to today’s schedule is new to me. “Diana who?”

Nervous at my sharp tone, she adjusts her glasses and checks the paper again. “Uh…Princess Diana of Themiscera?”

Well, that explains how she got onto my schedule. “Alright. Have lunch catered from that Greek place.”

Twelve fifty-nine she strides through the door to my office. My desk has been cleared and turned into a buffet of Greek food, which makes her blink in surprise. I give her a charming smile.

“You must be Diana,” I say warmly, standing to offer her a hand that she takes briefly. “Please, sit down and help yourself. I’d like to say I’ve heard so much about you,” I continue, taking my own advice, “but unfortunately, I haven’t. What brings you to Gotham?”

She sits and eyes the food as though irritated that she can’t be angry at it. “I just wanted to talk to you about Bruce Wayne. Woman to woman.”

Oh, so it was going to be one of these. “If you’re here to warn me that he’s never going to settle down, that his style is to lead a girl on and then forget her number, I’ve already had several of those talks.”

Her eyebrows draw together as she frowns. “Not quite the warning I came here to give, Ms. Kyle.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

“I understand that Batman keeps Gotham fairly isolated from international superhero activity…”

“Wait,” I interrupt, one hand up. “Now this is about Batman?”

Diana’s frown turns more severe. “You’ve heard of the Justice League, haven’t you? Superman, Green Lantern…Wonder Woman?”

The plot thickens. “Oh.” Bruce, darling, what did you get yourself into?

She nods grimly as I catch her hint. “I think you’re making a mistake, getting involved with Bruce.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me a reason I haven’t heard before,” I say politely, “because I can assure you that the settling down and forget your number issues are moot.”

The frustration is coming back. Diana casts around for other words. “Has he shown you what he keeps in his…basement?”

“Why, yes.” Ah, the memories – cold cave floor, scars and insecurity, and the unique expression of Batman basking in afterglow early on a Christmas morning.

“He has enemies, Ms. Kyle. Ones that won’t hesitate to get at him through you.”

“Diana,” I say gently, “have you ever heard of Catwoman? It’s a matter of public record,” I continue when she shakes her head. “I’ve been running a nonprofit security consultation service on the side, but the fact of the matter is that I was a rather high-profile case: a costumed criminal brought in and unmasked by Batman himself. I was sentenced to five years of probation, pursuant to my not using the costume for illegal activities. Shortly afterwards, the Joker tried to turn me into cat food to get Batman.” I make air quotes around the word. “Bruce and I have been moving slowly to ensure no one else gets the same idea. I turned down his advances for a year to keep him safe.”

Her eyebrows arch slightly; she’s impressed, and she nods her respect. “Still, you must know that he has…a lot of issues.”

“Trust being foremost, I know. Please, Diana, allow me to assure you that trust isn’t an issue between us.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve earned his trust.” Thick skepticism turns the question into a challenging statement.

“I’ve seen his scars,” I say evenly, holding her eyes with mine, a dominance challenge between two lionesses. “All of his scars.”

Her eyes widen at the implication, then narrow in anger and jealousy that drains away as quickly as it arrived and finally, she shakes her head. “He pursued you for a year,” she says, asking for confirmation.

“He did. And I turned him down. Then we discussed the issue privately, and spent the next nine or ten months as simple friends and business partners.”

“And then what happened?”

I shrug. “The Scarecrow thought he might be able to scare Batman’s identity out of me. It didn’t go so well for him, and he wound up overdosing on his own chemicals. I landed in the hospital, sedated for three days until his toxins wore off, and accepted Bruce’s invitation to spend my week of bed rest – which coincided with Christmas – at Wayne Manor.”

“Where he showed you his basement and his scars,” she says dubiously.

“Yes. Christmas morning, actually. That night, at the party, he kissed me under the mistletoe and we decided it was time to give it a try.”

I can see in her eyes that she knows she’s lost. That she was never even a player in the game. Still, she’s a princess and used to getting her way, and even Wonder Woman isn’t immune to simple human emotions. She’s going to try something else.

“You won’t mind if I confirm things with him,” she says, and it’s not really a question. I smile.

“Not at all. Here…” I’ve stashed my purse in a drawer, and I fish the very expensive mobile telephone out of it. The number for Bruce’s is on speed dial, and I toggle the speaker feature on while it rings.

“Wayne here,” he says cheerfully after the third ring.

“It’s me, darling.”

“Selina!” I love hearing his voice go from ‘distantly professional’ to ‘genuinely warm’ in the space of my name. “To what do I owe the pleasure this time?” he teases.

“To your friend Diana.” I pause to let him process that. “She’s here with me now.”

“You should have told me you were coming to Gotham, Diana,” he says without missing a beat, unconcerned and mildly hurt. “Will you be able to join us for dinner?”

She doesn’t look mollified. “Selina tells me that you showed her your…basement.”

“Well, yes. I thought she had the right to see it, since she knew about it anyway.”

“And you…showed her your scars, as she put it?”

“I did, literally, show her the scars. She had the right to know exactly what she was getting involved with.” I can hear the humor fading from his tone.

“And why didn’t I ever get that chance?”

Silence, and then he sighs. “Diana, you know the kind of issues I have, but you don’t understand what that means. You’re still a princess from a society of immortal warriors.”

“He’s a lion,” I interject. “He’s a lion, and Gotham is his pride.”

More silence while she thinks about that.

“You have responsibilities to Themiscera,” he says gently when it’s clear she’s not going to protest. “I have responsibilities to Gotham.”

It’s more subtle than ‘your pride is entirely lionesses and you’re just barely convinced the lions are necessary at all’ and it invokes her sense of duty; she nods.

“I understand now,” she says crisply. “Even if I’m not happy about it. Nothing was ever going to happen between us. I should have seen it before, and I didn’t. I’m sorry, Bruce. Please forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive, Diana,” he says warmly. “So…will you be able to join us for dinner?”

Her eyes slide away from me, obeisance from a prey animal who thought she was a predator. “I’m afraid not, but I’ll take you up on that the next time I’m in town. It was nice meeting you, Selina.” She gives a small bow, bending slightly from the waist, and exits my office.

I toggle speakerphone off and bring the device to my ear. “Is she always like that?”

“Pretty much,” he sighs. “Did she warn you that I have enemies and issues?”

“Enemies, Bruce? A nice guy like you?” He laughs with me at the reference to our second lunch date, now almost two years ago, and I tease, “So, Mr. Wayne, what sort of dinner plans have you neglected to inform me of this time?”

I can hear the grin in his voice. “Well, it was going to be a surprise, but I planned to swing by at five-thirty and see if I could talk you into dining with me at Wayne Manor tonight. Just the two of us and a fondue by the fireplace. I’ll even show you my-”

“Scars?”

He chuckles. “You’re incorrigible, Selina. I was going to say I’ll show you my etchings.”

“You actually have etchings? Wait, question withdrawn. I don’t doubt in the slightest that you have etchings.”

“So, dinner at my place?”

“Mmm, I might be persuaded…if you ask nicely.”

His voice drops down into something low and throaty to match my purr. “In that case, I’ll ask very nicely.”

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you at five-thirty, darling.”

“Until then.”

I tuck the device away and cross my office to the door. When I peer out, the girls are looking at me with undisguised curiosity. “My lunch date wasn’t hungry,” I tell them with my usual dry delivery. “Who’s up for some Greek?”