SHE WENT ON patrol because it felt like she wasn't pulling her weight. It was her and Red Robin that night. Killer Croc was the highlight of the night, the fight leaving both her and Red Robin doused in water and other types of... unsavoury liquid.

Thus, her decision to utilise the showers in the basement of the tower instead. She did not want to dirty her own apartment.

She was smart enough to leave a change of civilian clothes downstairs as well. Thus, by the time she stepped through the door of her apartment, she was already feeling clean and fresh. She would feel even better, if not for the fact that it was four o'clock in the morning and her entire body felt sore.

Damian had left the light on his little table on. Odile didn't bother turning on the big lights, instead heading right to the small kitchen. Quietly, she stuffed a microwaveable pasta into the microwave before pouring herself a cup of water.

As she waited for the meal to finish cooking, she walked over to check on Damian. He was sound asleep. She let out a shaky breath. She'd do her best not to wake him up, not wanting to disturb his rest, but considering how light of a sleeper he was...

A skill of survival, for people like them. Though Odile tended to be able to get a good night's sleep anyways. Nightmares might accompany slumber, but she rarely struggled to stay asleep.

She knelt down so they were eye-level. Inspected his features. Stared at his lashes, at the prominence of his nose bridge, the speckle of red of his mouth.

Her fingers brushed over his cheeks, featherlight.

Where she touched him, her skin tingled.

She swallowed, standing back up.

"Evening. Or is it morning?" his voice was muffled as he stirred, slowly opening his eyes. "You're back, so I'm assuming it's the morning."

"Go back to sleep, Damian. It's early."

"I'll be alright. Tough night?"

"Killer Croc."

"Ah, I hope you've showered, then."

"I have."

The microwave sounded then, and she walked over to take out her food. Along with that, she grabbed a newly washed fork, and then sat on the armchair beside Damian's sofa. "I'm going out for food with Cecily tomorrow afternoon. Do you want me to grab you anything?"

"I don't suppose there's some immediate cure that will get me out of here anytime soon?"

"No." Odile pulled a face. "Is it that bad? Would me staying in a bit more and keeping you company help?"

"That would be wonderful." Damian tilted his head. "It's the worst when I wake up and realise I'm all alone."

"Sure." She paused. "Really, you can probably move around now, albeit carefully. I'll take you downstairs for a walk one day. If you want more privacy, I could drive you to Wayne Manor for that?"

"Just around the area is fine." Damian shrugged. "My face isn't as recognisable as Father's." True. Bruce had done his best to keep Damian's face out of the picture until recent years, when he'd begun attending some public events on behalf of Wayne Enterprises.

But still, most people around the city wouldn't know his face.

"We can do that tomorrow, maybe." She looked thoughtful. "Or should I drive you to Robinson Park?"

"No need for all that." He yawned. "It'll all be fine. Don't worry about it."

—

DAMIAN WAS CONSIDERED capable of living on his own by the end of that week, and he moved back into his own penthouse. It took a few days for Odile to get used to her empty home again, but she adjusted quickly. She was used to a life without him.

It was decided that Damian would, in fact, accompany her and Bruce on her first ever societal outing at the Foxes' gala. His injury would be explained. It could always be explained.

They had much experience in explaining strange injuries. She wondered if anyone ever contemplated why and how Bruce Wayne and his wards kept acquiring all kinds of ways to be hurt, each more unique than the last. Or perhaps they dismissed it as the eccentricities of a rich man, because rich men would always be easily excused for everything.

That was something that helped their daily crusade. Even when people stumbled upon something suspicious, they chose to gloss over it.

By the time of the Foxes' gala, she'd already confirmed all the artists creating pieces for her exhibition. She was already discussing the best date for the gala with Bruce, and the first stipend for the sponsorship had all already been handed out.

Everything was going well.

Odile sat in her bedroom and stared at her own reflection in the mirror.

Alfred was going to drive by with Bruce later to pick the two of them up. She still had two hours. She needed to do her hair and makeup, put on her dress, and get herself downstairs.

Plenty of time.

She started with her hair, combing it smooth before beginning to curl. Once her hair was in wide, wavy locks, she started braiding parts of it up and tying it together at the back. No accessories in her hair. She was planning on wearing a rather noticeable necklace.

The dress she'd selected was light pink, elegant but youthful. The bodice was encrusted with crushed pink stones, glimmering when the light hit it. She matched it with a pink diamond necklace in the shape of a heart (a fifteenth birthday present from Dick), a pair of diamond stud earrings (thirteenth birthday present from Bruce), and a silver bangle she'd acquired in England some years prior.

Makeup was appropriate and limited. Foundation, concealer, mascara, eyeliner, blush. And a bit of highlighter to end it. She wanted to make a good impression. People would expect her to be a bit more showy—she was only nineteen, but she also needed to make sure people saw her as responsible. Trustworthy. Reliable.

In a way, her outfit and makeup were weapons and suits of another category. There was more than one way to help this city. She would learn to fight on both battlefields.

She wondered how Damian was doing on his own side. He could walk now, albeit slowly, and best if someone offered him an arm as support. She would likely be that person tonight.

It crossed her mind then that she'd never seen Damian in a suit before.

Had Damian ever seen her in a ballgown? No, she didn't think so either.

A little grin had made its way onto her face. She tried to suppress it.

She really wanted to impress him.

She knew it was stupid, but she did. There was just that little part of herself that said, what if he finds you beautiful? If you dance with someone else tonight, would he be jealous?

Even though she knew he wouldn't be, because he wasn't that type of person.

In the safety of her own room, she let herself dream. She let herself ponder if Damian would dance with her (even though she knew he was most likely sitting out any dancing, considering the state of his leg), if he'd stay by her side all night, if she could just pretend they were a couple at a ball...

Or if he'd go and talk and flirt with someone else.

That sort of thing was necessary at events like this.

She swallowed.

Right. Finishing touches. A few sprays of perfume. Makeup setting spray. Should she have her hair in front of her shoulders or behind? Behind it was, with a few locks before.

She stared at her own reflection in the mirror and decided she was content with it.

A copy of her suit would be in the car Alfred was driving them in. No need to sneak one into the ballroom. Besides, the Foxes' should be safe. They had excellent security, partly due to Bruce, partly because Lucius Fox was a man who took the safety of his family seriously. Especially with his son's profession.

A Chanel purse, her phone and some makeup packed inside it. And then a pair of Christian Louboutin heels to finish off the expensive look. Odile sucked in a breath.

Her mission tonight was to talk to as many people as possible. To get her name out, to drop hints that she was planning on getting more involved in the charity aspect of this city. That she was working with the Martha Wayne Foundation. Get people interested and intrigued.

She needed to establish a reputation. Young, perhaps a bit naive, but hopeful. Intelligent, ambitious, with the resources to back it up with. Charming. Sweet. Easy to talk to. With those of the older generation she'd act like the perfect daughter. With people around her age (albeit she didn't think there'd be too many nineteen year olds running around), she'd be relatable. Funny.

She'd played many roles in the past. She'd chosen one role when she was nine and she'd stuck to it for so many years. She knew how to act.

She knew what people liked, knew what would let her go further.

There was a knock on her door. Damian was ready, then. She gave herself one last lookover in the mirror to make sure she hadn't missed anything. Satisfied, she opened the door, grabbing her purse on the way there. "Ready?"

Damian had cleaned up nicely. He'd combed his hair and seemed to gel bits of it. Black suit, white shirt. A dark red tie.

Her lips twisted upwards. "Remiel got that for you, didn't she? I remember her picking it out in Hong Kong. Two years ago, wasn't it?"

"Thought it fit. Besides, I knew you'd be in some shade of pink."

"What, you chose it just to match my dress?" she let out a hearty laugh before giving a little twirl. "Well, what do you think?"

He was studying her intently. Someone else might be creeped out, but she knew he was just doing what he did best. Observing. He was an observant person, nothing ever missed his eyes. He was studying her from head to toe, taking in every detail and committing it to memory. He did that with everything he saw. It was how he'd been raised.

"You look stunning." His voice was a little rough, a little uncomfortable as he gave a nod. "You must have put a lot of effort into it."

"Took two hours," she huffed. "This night better go perfectly, or I'll be so annoyed. Let's go?"

She hooked her arm into his, allowing him to use her as support. He glanced at her, then frowned. "You're in heels. I don't know if it's a good idea for me to throw all my weight on you. I'm sure Father will suffice."

"People will find it weird for Bruce Wayne's son to be clinging onto him all evening. It's fine. I've fought in heels before, this is nothing."

He glanced at her. "People might... assume things about us."

She blinked. Turned her head towards him, and muttered, "Let them. We can clarify it later. Besides, everyone will be able to tell you're a bit injured."

"Right."

They stepped into the elevator. Damian was characteristically taciturn, deep in thought. Odile turned her gaze ahead as the doors of the private elevator opened.

Alfred and Bruce were waiting right outside the doors in their car. At the sight of them, Alfred got off, greeting them as he opened the car doors. "Master Wayne, Miss Yu."

Odile blinked then as something struck her. "Wait a moment, isn't Remiel's cover Remiel Chen? That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

Damian shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Oh, they must have forgotten to add it onto the file. You took your mother's surname, she took your father's."

"Alright."

They climbed into the car. Bruce turned his head. "I must express how glad I am to not be attending this event alone."

"It's held by the Foxes. You wouldn't have been alone."

"Lucius must do his duties as host. He couldn't keep me company the entire time." A sigh. "Try to enjoy yourself tonight, Odile. You'll have to do this a lot in the future."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Odile said reassuringly. She wasn't a massive extrovert—really, she leaned a bit more on the introvert spectrum, despite what everyone else liked to believe. But she was still good at socialising. She'd always seemed to know what to say to people to make them feel better about themselves, to cheer them up, and to make them feel comfortable.

"And watch Damian," Bruce frowned.

Damian raised a brow. "I'll be fine, Father."

"Between your leg and your... usual expression? I think it best if Odile kept a close eye on you the entire night."

"My expression keeps away unnecessary company."

"No company is unnecessary tonight. You'll just scare away everyone."

"I don't need to talk to anyone," Damian pointed out.

"You don't, Odile does."

"Then Odile can go off on her own and socialise."

Odile turned, frowning at him. "But your leg."

Damian rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine. I'll survive."

"Odile, go off if you feel the need to. But do try to keep an eye on him, please? There are people I urgently need to speak to tonight, so I won't be sticking around the entire time."

"Business, Father?"

"Some of Wayne Enterprises' partners," Bruce explained, smoothing his suit. "No need to worry about it. The main goal of tonight is for Odile to put herself out there. I will be introducing you to a lot of people. Especially a few young men and women around your age. There will be some presents."

Damian raised a brow. "I thought the... older crowd assembled would be more important."

"Right now, much of the charity efforts of each company have fallen upon the shoulders of their youngsters," Bruce said, tilting his head at Odile. "Much like you. And I think you'll find them easier to talk to and connect to."

"I'll do my best."

"Besides," Bruce sighed, "You need some friends your own age. And not in our... work."

Damian raised a brow. "You know it's easier to find friends within our work. And she has enough."

"You and Jon. Cassandra. Who else, really? Hardly enough. If you were more willing, Damian, I'd suggest you do the same. When you take over Wayne Enterprises," he paused, "whenever that shall be, you'll need connections with these young men and women. It'll be too late to forge them by then."

"I'll bring Damian along," Odile promised. "I'll figure something out."

"We arrive in just a moment," Alfred announced. "I will be right around the corner. If there is an emergency, your communicators would do the trick."

Odile beamed. "Thank you, Alfred."

"No problem at all, Miss Odile."

Their limousine pulled through the Foxes' front gates, and Odile did a final check of her makeup. Flawless. She pulled her fingers through her hair as Alfred stopped the car before the steps of the front door. He left the car first, opening the door for Bruce. Then, the back door, offering his hand for Odile, who got out and turned to help Damian.

There were cameras flashing already. Bruce had already let out the news of her appearance tonight. Once she was sure Damian was steady, she turned to smile at the cameras, offering a few tilts of her head in greeting.

Then they made their way inside.

—

"THOSE TWO ARE having an affair," Damian said, sounding slightly amused, nudging his chin at a couple dancing at a respectable distance. "The man's wife is right there. Mrs Welt. And she's none the wiser."

"How do you know?"

"Body language. And I've picked up on some gossip running around town. Put two and two together."

"Do you spend much of your free time filing through the gossip of the elite of Gotham?" she asked, a smile curling at her lips. She turned to glance at him, awaiting his answer.

He scowled. "You know I don't. Now you're just teasing me. Ah, look to your left. Well, don't. The boy approaching us. Yes. Blond hair. Anthony Dexter. His father is the founder of Dexter Real Estate. One of the newer bloods in Gotham society. He's coming your way, I think."

And sure enough, Anthony Dexter, blond-haired, brown eyed, rather lanky, stopped in front of her, a wide smile on his face. "You must be Odile Yu!"

Odile replied with a coy smile. "That is me. You are?"

"Anthony. Anthony Dexter. But just call me Anthony. Or Tony, if you'd like. And Wayne, my good man!"

To her surprise, Damian offered a smile back. "Dexter."

"You're here together?" Anthony asked, glancing between the two of them with some curiosity.

"We're old friends," Odile answered. "We've known each other since we were quite young. Bruce and Damian were kind enough to bring me tonight."

Damian gave a stiff nod in return. "I'm keeping an eye on her."

Odile laughed good-naturedly. "He's just trying to salvage his ego. I'm here watching him, really. Hurt his leg, you see. Slight incident on a boat."

"I was wondering why you were limping," Anthony said sympathetically, casting a glance at Damian. "Hope you get better soon. But since you're injured, I assume you won't be taking Miss Yu onto the dance floor?"

Damian raised a brow. "No. I will not be. Not with this leg, I'm afraid."

Anthony turned to her, offering a slight bow. "May I, then?"

Odile glanced at Damian, who replied with a one-shoulder shrug. She took that as permission. "Of course. But you'll have to return me back to Damian eventually, lest he somehow injures himself again in the meantime."

Anthony let out a chuckle, offering his hand. Odile took it, and without a glance back at Damian, headed off.

Her heart was pounding, really. Would he be jealous? Or would he just not care?

She was thinking too much. It was rude to Anthony. She tilted her head at him. "Tell me about yourself, won't you?"

They got into position in the centre of the Foxes' ballroom. He placed his hand on her waist and her arm. She placed hers on his shoulder. Odile was a fine dancer. She'd been taught to fight like she was dancing, and those skills had translated over fairly easily.

"Well... my name is Anthony Dexter."

"Tell me something I don't know. Age? Hobbies? Job?"

He tilted his head. "Twenty-one, I'm currently working under my father as a manager, hobbies include basketball and hanging out at the animal shelter."

"Lover of animals?" she asked curiously. It was a good thing, perhaps, that her back was to Damian, so she wasn't forced to look at him and contemplate what he was thinking from his expression. Good thing indeed.

"Yep. I'd have my own dog, but I'm too busy to take care of anything, really, and it doesn't feel right to have someone else do it for me."

"Which animal shelter do you usually volunteer at?" Odile questioned.

"You know the one near Robinson Park? It's pretty well-known. I go there once a week. Perhaps you can join me sometimes."

"Maybe," she said. "If I ever have the time. I'm not as big on animals, I'm afraid. Not that I dislike them, but I was bitten by a dog once when I was younger and have always held a slight fear of them since. Even if I still think they're adorable."

"I suppose that's fair enough." He frowned. "Bitten by a dog?"

"It was a... mildly traumatising event." It had been against a gang in Hong Kong, actually. Some of the enforcers had dogs. Some of them had managed to get a good bite in. It took her a while before she stopped flinching every time she saw some kind of canine. Even the cute ones.

The cute ones were usually the most vicious.

damian is not happy. 

surprise update! i wasn't expecting to get the chapter done so quickly, but hey!!! here it is!!!! not gonna complain!!!!!