A/N: No Joker. Just a small chapter with some insight to Bruce & Ember's brief relationship. (So sorry for any disappointment, this small snippet is essential to the story).

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"Summer bachelors like summer breezes, are never as cool as they pretend to be."
—Nora Ephron

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Let's rewind the clocks back a bit...

"Navy or teal?"

Ember squinted slightly, arms crossed as her vision bounced between the identical tops held in each of Mallory's hands. One navy, and one teal, respectively.

"Teal?" She lightly suggested, earning a darkened glare from Mallory as she clearly disapproved.

"Really? But look at the navy one! It's absolutely gorg."

Ember threw her arms up in defeat, rolling her eyes as she took a seat on a nearby creme colored leather chair, sinking deeply into the material.

"I don't know, Mal. Just pick one, or buy both."

Mallory sighed, placing the teal top back onto the rack as she brushed a loose brunette strand of hair from her bright green eyes.

"Navy wins, I guess. You're still paying, right?"

"Yes, Mal. I told you it's your birthday present." Ember reassured the petite woman, rising from the seat as she shuffled through her patterned purse, retrieving a matted wallet.

Mallory led the woman to the cashier, who was a teenage girl with a bit too much blue eyeshadow and bright red overlined lips.

Ember grimaced as the teenage girl smacked her gum impolitely, scanning the article of clothing as Ember eyed the price.

Seventy-two dollars?

The woman shifted uncomfortably in place, eyeing a rather giddy Mallory as she gleamed at the sight of her new top.

"That'll be seventy-two fifty." The teenager blandly stated, smacking her gum again.

With a hesitant hand, Ember positioned the card above the slot, sliding it quickly as the machine beeped in response.

"Uh, ma'am," The teenager stammered.
"Your card declined."

Tomorrow was pay day.

"Fuck," Ember grunted.
"We don't get paid until tomorrow, Mallory. I don't have enough."

"It's on me."

Both Mallory and Ember spun on their heels, glancing in the direction of the sudden deep voice that had emerged from behind them.

Gotham's infamous Bruce Wayne smiled curtly, dressed cleanly in a pinstripe gray suit, a flourescent red credit card laced between his fingers.

"N-No, it's okay, sir." Ember stuttered, but Bruce silently insisted, brushing against the womans shoulder as he simply slid his card, purchasing Mallory's shirt for her.

"I insist." He politely pressed, his thin lips curling into a sincere grin.

"Bruce Wayne." He outstretched an arm, Ember's eyes widening as she forgot how to function entirely.

"Y-Yeah, I know." She stuttered, shakily taking his hand in hers as an open-mouthed Mallory stood beside her. "Ember DeLoughrey. This is my friend, Mallory Eaton."

"Pleasure." Mallory drawled, capturing Bruce's hand in hers the moment Ember's fingers slipped out of his.

"Would you ladies be interested in grabbing a bite to eat?" Bruce offered, snatching the receipt from the cashiers hand with ease as he thrust the shopping bag into Mallory's grasp.

"Oh! I actually have a shift in an hour, but Ember has the day off!" Mallory cheered, pressing the palm of her hand against Ember's lower back, applying a bit of pressure as she shrugged the woman closer to Bruce.

Ember tripped over the toe of her shoe, nearly stumbling forward and onto the sharply dressed man as his arms impulsively darted outward in preperation to catch her.

"Sorry," Ember murmured.
"I'm a little clumsy."

"No worries." Bruce gleamed.
"So, how about that meal?"

|•|•|•|

"Do you enjoy working as a waitress?" Bruce wondered, spooning a forkful of garlic mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"It's alright. Sometimes I feel like I could be doing something better with my life." Ember shyly admitted, aimlessly pushing the buttered noodles around on her decorative plate.

Bruce had bought her a quite elegant sparkled black dress, which cut off mid-thigh and clung nicely to her hips. Although she insisted that he didn't buy it for her, just like Mallory's shirt, he fucking insisted.

Ember couldn't deny the extreme attraction she felt towards the billionaire. He was absolutely flawless, strutting a jawline so sharp that it could cut glass. A mess of butterflies erupted in her belly everytime she made eye contact with him, and her toes curled at the sound of her name falling from his lips.

By far, Ember's biggest flaw was falling deeply into the pits of admiration way too quickly...

"Everything okay? You're awfully quiet." Bruce pried.

"Can I be honest with you, Mr. Wayne?" Ember wondered, her voice wavering as she continued to shove noodles around the surface of her plate.

"Call me Bruce. And yes, of course."

"Bruce," Ember stammered, avoiding his piercing gaze.
"I'm not quite sure if I'm ready for a relationship just yet."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" He cheekily replied.

|•|•|•|

Ember stumbled into work late the following day, her sloppily dyed platinum ponytail tumbling from the rubber restraint as Mallory raised a suspicious brow.

"Jesus, Em. Everything alright?" She demanded, eyes immediately widening at the sight of a deep, purple bruise along the crease of Ember's neck.

"Holy shit."

"What?" Ember panicked, growing slightly worried by Mallory's suggestive stare at her neck.

"You've got quite the hickey, bud." Mallory giggled, tossing her periwinkle lunch bag into the staff room refrigerator as she stole another glance at the bruise.
"Care to share?"

Ember's hand darted upwards, claiming the tainted flesh of her neck as she rummaged through her purse in search of a compact mirror.

Her jaw fell agape at the sight of the bruise, about a quarter in size at the base of her neck, leading directly into her collarbone. She prodded at the discoloration, running the pads of her fingers along the skin as her mind flickered back to the vivid memories from last night.

Lots of rolling around... kissing... touching... feeling... sucking...

"Earth to Ember!" Mallory chanted, clearly amused by the situation as she waved a freckled hand in the womans face.

Ember blinked several times, gulping loudly before closing the mirror with a loud snap and returning it to the depths of her purse.

"You gonna tell me who gave it to you?" Her friend nosily wondered, leaning against the withered white table in the center of the rather dainty break room.

"You wouldn't believe me if I did." Ember sighed, prying open a nearby metal locker as she maneuvered her bag into the compact space.

"Oh c'mon, just tell me." Mallory begged, arms crossed as she irritably stomped her foot. Ember couldn't deny it, Mallory was her closest friend. However, she had a very bad habit of keeping her mouth shut on certain topics.

"You can't tell anyone." Ember pressed, sealing the locker with an old rusted lock as she thrust her pointer finger in Mallory's direction.

Mallory mockingly tossed her hands into the air in surrender, shaking her head.
"My lips are sealed. Spill!"

Ember let out an exasperated sigh, shuffling her weight from one foot to the other as her fingers instinctively darted upwards, claiming the paper plane pendant that clung to her neck. She turned the plane between her fingers, analyzing the deep grooves of the shape as she always did when she felt anxious. That damn necklace always seemed to soothe her, no matter what the problem was. It was as if the simple object was her natural healer.

"I slept with Bruce."

Mallory's eyes widened, a loud cackle tumbling from her lips in response.

"Fucking Wayne? You're joking!"

"I wish I was." Ember dryly replied.
"He's a total manwhore, isn't he? God, I'm just as pitiful as any other woman whose fallen under his trap. He makes it so easy."

"Dude, I'm actually really fucking jealous right now." Mallory spat, arms crossing once again. "He's a total babe, you've definitely scored."

Ember merely shook her head in response.

"I didn't score anything. It was probably just a one-time deal." She said with a frown.

"Either way, you fucked Gotham's richest man, and you have a hickey to prove it! That deserves a pat on the back!" Mallory gushed, approaching Ember with three large strides as the palm of her hand came into contact with her friends shoulder.

"DeLoughrey, Eaton."

Both women stilled, their blood running cold at the sound of their thirty-four year old boss, Karen.

"Get to work." The pissed woman snipped, excusing herself from the room without another word as both Mallory and Ember retrieved their aprons from a nearby rack.

Ember shuffled out of the room, reentering the restaurant as she quickly tucked the loose strands of hair back into place, fully aware of the hideous bruise on her neck as she made her way towards her section of tables.

She smoothed out the wrinkles in her apron with the palms of her hands, breathing quite deeply from lack of proper exercise as she approached her only occupied table.

Her light gaze settled upon the tables occupant, which was none-other than the creator of the violent bruise on her neck.

The air escaped her lungs at the sight of him, her legs turning to putty as she contemplated turning back around and walking away. However, she'd already been spotted.

"Good afternoon, Miss DeLoughrey." Bruce greeted, his hands crossed on top of the table as his gaze flickered in the direction of the seat opposite him.

Ember glanced over her shoulder, searching for any sign of Mallory (or worse, fucking Karen) before approaching the table.

To Bruce's dismay, she did not even acknowledge him, nor take a seat across from him. Instead, Ember simply fished her pad of paper and a black ball-point pen from the pocket of her apron, clearing her throat anxiously before speaking.

"Hello, sir. Can I start you off with something to drink?" She stuttered, her voice failing her as she nearly combusted.

Bruce simply smiled in response, uncrossing his hands as he eyed a nearby menu.

"Just water is fine for now." He said, his glare diverting to the fresh bruise above her collar. A sinister grin crept onto his lips, a chuckle wracking through his chest at the sight of it.

Ember shook violently in her non-slip shoes, seconds away from bursting into tears from extreme embarrassment. She wasn't quite sure what had gotten into her last night, but she was a bit—kinky—with the man.

"You don't have to be nervous around me, Ember. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You're beautiful." Bruce lightly assured the woman.

Ember melted from his words alone, a certain warmth overcoming her every limb as she lowered into the booth opposite him.

"I had a really good time last night." She revealed with a quivering voice.

Bruce outstretched a hand, claiming her shivering fingers in his.

"I did too. Let me treat you to dinner again, but this time, at my place?" He offered.

Ember's heart painfully thudded against her ribcage, the idea of eating an isolated dinner at Bruce's mansion made her head swim. They hadn't even fucked at his house last night, shamefully. Good thing his driver had a tinted window to shield him from the show...

"S-Sure."

"Great. I'll see you next Tuesday."

|•|•|•|

"This is honestly the best chicken parmesan I've ever had." Ember gloated through a stuffed mouth, discarding her table manners entirely as she devoured the prepared meal.

Bruce chuckled from the opposite end of the oddly long wooden table.
"Alfred is quite a great cook." He mused.

"Yes, he is." Ember giggled, finishing off the remainder of her supper before wiping her lips with a freshly cleaned creme tinted cloth napkin.

Bruce finished his food in silence, stealing an occasional glance at the woman across from him as Alfred returned to wordlessly collect their empty dishes.

Ember and Bruce sat in an odd silence following Alfred's departure. Ember's bottom lip sat pulled between her teeth as she chewed mindlessly on the skin, whereas Bruce stirred in his seat. The tension between them was absolutely riveting.

Then, Ember did the unthinkable. It was as if she was an entirely different person around Bruce Wayne, a person who had absolutely no fear.

She discarded her napkin onto the table, pulling her knees upward to meet the surface as her dainty dress rode up her thighs.

Bruce's eyes widened at her actions, observing the scene at hand with amusement as Ember literally fucking crawled on all fours along the length of the table. Several giggles fell from the womans lips as she hurriedly approached the sharply dressed man, cupping the back of his neck with her palm as she abruptly shoved her lips to his.

Their teeth clattered together upon impact, his hands darting upward to claim her face as she immediately deepened the kiss, desperately prying open his lips with hers as a small moan tumbled from her mouth.

Bruce kicked the chair out from beneath him, his hands traveling to her waist as he tugged her forward, repositioning the woman so that she lay perfectly beneath him on the table.

His coat slipped down the length of his arms, pooling at his feet as his lips promptly returned to hers.

"How 'bout I give that little hickey of yours a friend?"

|•|•|•|

Two months.

Ember's been wrapped up in all things Bruce fucking Wayne for two entire months. Although it had been that long, they'd only had sex seven times. Those seven times were quite glorious, though.

She knew quite well that what they had was solely physical. It was routine, really. He'd treat her to a nice dinner, then screw her brains out in varied locations immediately after. It was just one of those no-strings-attached flings.

However, for Ember Laine DeLoughrey, there was no such thing as no-strings-attached. Hell, if someone offered her a compliment, she'd tie a little string around them for it. She practically fell in love with Bruce the moment he laid eyes on her.

It was somewhat pitiful how easily she fell for people. However, no matter who they were, or how deeply in love she'd fall, if her darling Jackson somehow managed to reappear in her life, she'd drop her current beau in an absolute heartbeat.

Her heart would always belong to Jackson.

"How are things between you and Brucie?" Mallory taunted, rolling the sparkling clean silverware up inside a cloth napkin with ease.

Ember sat opposite her, adding another perfectly rolled silverware set to her pile as she shrugged.

"It's just routine. We eat dinner, fuck, and start all over like a week or week and a half later." She blandly replied.

"Damn girl, you've got yourself a sugar daddy." Mallory joked.

"I wish," Ember muttered.
"He just buys me dinner. That's it."

"Hey, he's on the television." Mallory observed, thrusting her finger in the direction of the flatscreen clinging loosely to the wall directly behind Ember.

She twisted in her chair, halting her actions to see the man she so helplessly loved on the TV.

Her heart fluttered at the sight of him, dressed in a usual high-quality suit he typically wore. Her heart plummeted, however, when her gaze settled upon a leggy blonde clinging to his right arm.

Him and the interviewer exchanged several words, and when they were finished, Bruce pressed a kiss to the blonde's cheek before the camera panned in a different direction.

Ember visibly stiffened, the air escaping her lungs as she avoided Mallory's sympathetic glare. She should've expected this.

"I'm sorry, Em." Her friend whispered.

"Don't be."