Red Rain [Jason Todd]

.72

<<All I have to say to the comments racked up for my question: wow. And I'm sorry for taking so long to update. Forgive me. From reading all 94 comments (!!😱!!) I got three things: Team Nightshade, Team Jarielle, and Team DickBri... interesting. >>

My door is opened by my date, his hand held out to help me get out of the Bentley. I take it and step out as the valet takes his car, heels tall beneath my feet, clacking as I walk. As expected, paparazzi is crowded outside the venue, unable to get in. I loop my hand in his arm as he smiles for the camera, a well-known elite of Gotham right under Bruce Wayne (who I met him through actually).

We walk down to the guard and give our names before entering the party. The theme was women in white, men in black, everyone looking their finest. I seemed underdressed compared to the dresses some of the women wore, but I was comfortable in my simple mesh.

Orchestra music plays live to my right and a snack bar is set up to my far left, people walking around, chatting and enjoying themselves and the art.

First thing was finding a waiter with champagne, but Clinton, my date, wanted me to meet a few people. I go along with it until finding myself staring at champagne across the room. I wait for the waitress to start moving my way, but she's too sucked into a conversation with one of the male guests, he, probably being inappropriate and she, unprofessional.

I roll my eyes and move from Clinton's arm that was swung around my hip, giving a quick "I'll be right back" as I walk away. When I approach the two, I smile and grab one of the sparkling champagne glasses from her tray, looking at her with a sweet yet knowing look that made her smile dim. My glare and action reminded her of what she should be doing.

I glance back up to the man she was talking to, finding his eyes on my body, clearly undressing me with his eyes. I just force the two apart by walking between them and towards the back of the art gallery. For a moment, I was intrigued by the art, slightly more focused on that than the drink in my hand, which is a first.

"Brielle." A familiar voice says and I look over my shoulder from a painting to find Bruce approaching me from behind. I turn to face him completely, "Hey."

"Evening." He says, brows slightly furrowing, "I thought you said Jason would be here. I haven't seen him."

I shrug a little, "Maybe he just hasn't shown up yet. Or maybe he's not coming—"

"You—"

"Bruce, listen to yourself for one second." I stop him, closing my eyes and putting my hand up before I get annoyed. I open my eyes back to his blue ones and bring my hand back down, "I did my best. I didn't even give him an option, but Jason does whatever the hell he wants if you haven't noticed—"

Bruce's eyes glance around before getting stuck to my right, the tiniest of smirks appearing on his face as he brings his own champagne glass to his lips and takes a sip, sliding his other hand into his pocket. He then gestures his glass over, "You think so?"

I follow his stare and gesture to the entrance where Jason was entering, in a black button-up that of course isn't fully buttoned up without a tie. I really don't think he even owns one now that I think about it. His hair is detangled and combed back into a careless pushup style. His beard isn't shaved but trimmed, tamed and shaped up neatly. He still has a scar on his cheek from the warehouse incident, but it only makes him look better and more attractive.

"Well there's your answer." I say, patting Bruce's chest while bringing my glass back to my lips and going the opposite way of Jason, down some steps into another section of the art gallery where there are more landscape portraits than abstract...and another snack bar.