See You in the Storm

10

On Wednesday, Dick has me walk to his house by myself. He's confident, sending me the address and an apology that he'll be fifteen minutes late but that I should make myself at home and to try the cookies Alfred made. 

I snort at the text, trudging through the fog of Gotham on my own. It's crazy how the smog clears the further you're in the rich neighborhoods. Like the millionaires found a way to buy clean air or something. 

He's crazy, actually. What kind of person lets a near stranger walk into their house? Apparently Dick Grayson does. 

I jog up to the driveway, antsy to arrive before the imminent thunderstorm soaks me to the bone. I'd rather not drip water onto the pristine floors of Wayne Manor. The gate stops me in my tracks, will Alfred know who I am?

"Hey! It's Alina, Dick's science partner," I try, pressing down on the speaker button. The gate creaks open, Alfred's voice through the radio.

"Good afternoon, Miss Alina."

That's all it takes and then I am opening the front door. Dick told me not to knock or ring the bell, saying: "just walk in, they know you." Which is crazy, because I've only met two of his brothers and the butler, Bruce Wayne seems to be as elusive as the papers say. 

I run my hands along the stair banister. The air is cold or maybe my apartment is just hot. 

"Miss Alina, the kitchen is downstairs, Master Dick told me you'd be stopping by there for him," Alfred says.

I spin around, blushing, and nearly tripping over the red carpet. "Oh yeah, thank you."

He nods. "Take the stairs down, it'll be the first entryway on your right." 

I smile. "Thanks."

"My pleasure. I hope you enjoy the cookies."

I hurry down the stairs, awkward to be traipsing around someone's house without them in it. Like I'm some kind of cat burglar. 

The kitchen is huge, marble counter tops, dark wood cabinets. The fridge is the size of my bed. There are bowls of fruit and protein bars on the island, a coffee maker that could be worth thousands. Everything is pristine. I note the towering plate of cookies on the counter and blink in surprise. There must be at least a hundred of them, some topped with M'n'Ms and some with chocolate chips. 

Before I can grab some, my gaze snags on the fridge door. It bears the only signs of life, drawing taped up along the metal. There are photos as well, children's graduations or birthdays. I see Dick's photo and grin. He's got the same eyes, even in the black and white photo. The same smile. 

"What are you doing here?" It's the little one, Damian.

I point to a drawing. "You did these, right?"

He eyes me. "Maybe."

"They're good. I saw them in Dick's room the other day. Happy Wednesday, by the way."

Damian gives a subtle nod at my compliment. "How many more Wednesdays will you plague us here?"

"Don't you like me," I sass, hand on my hip. What a little demon.

The young boy thinks his answer over. "You are a stranger that is in my house."

Fair enough. 

"I'm just here for cookies and then I'll be on my way," I reply. 

Damian narrows his eyes. "Do not take too many."

"Come on, there's so many. Don't be greedy." 

He hops onto the stool and begins to grab as many as he can.