Poker Face | Bruce Wayne

three

Oliver furrowed his brow in irritation. The steady sound of the blade he was currently using to sharpen his arrow tip distracted him from his annoyance. It was another weekly meeting— where the founders of the League met to discuss, in his opinion, pointless topics that didn't concern him. He was convinced they just forced him to come out of spite; if they had any problems with the funding they could easily just send the numbers to his office.

And as per usual, Batman was late.

The hum of the Hall of Justice generators served as ambient background noise, along with a conversation between Diana and Clark that he didn't bother to listen in on. The rest of the League sat around the circular table in various states of boredom, and Cyborg stood at the large computer in the front.

"You look distracted," their resident speedster noted from his spot next to the archer.

Oliver looked up at Barry. His red cowl was pulled off and hanging around the base of his neck, one hand behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. Oliver wasn't sure he owed him an explanation— he knew Barry was only asking because he had a hard time sitting still.

"It's nothin.' Just Bats." He rolled his eyes under his mask, taking comfort in the fact that no one could see him do so.

Barry put his arm down as he angled his body towards him. "Batman being late is hardly anything new."

Oliver ran his hands through his hair and down his face. He really shouldn't be saying anything. Barry didn't have a place in the argument he was about to start with the Bat. "It's just... Elias."

Even though he muttered the last part, several ears around the room perked up at the mention of the name.

"Elias?" Cyborg questioned, not bothering to turn away from the massive screen. "As in Gregory?"

Oliver shook his head, crossing his arms on the table. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. "As in his daughter—"

"Oh please don't say Meredith."

The archer glanced at the Man of Steel with curious eyes, matching the look at the rest of the table. He didn't get a chance to ask anything before the sound of sliding metal filled the room, and all heads darted towards the entrance. Batman stalked towards them, face expressionless as usual, blending in with the shadows of the room as his cape flowed behind him.

"You!" Oliver shouted, pushing his chair back and throwing an accusatory finger at the Dark Knight. "You caused this."

"You'll have to be more specific." He sounded as he always did, cold and indifferent, making his way to the front of the room and standing next to Cyborg.

Oliver realized it was the reaction Bruce intended to get out of him, but he couldn't help the anger that flourished in his chest. "Does the name Meredith Elias ring any bells?"

He watched the Bat pause momentarily while pulling up the holoscreens. It was a brief hesitation, but one that fueled his rage as it gave Oliver the answer he was looking for. Bruce knew exactly what he was talking about.

"That's not my problem."

His mouth dropped. "Not your problem? This is nothing but your problem!"

"Arrow, this is a League meeting, for League matters—"

"I don't give a damn what this is!" The rising anxiety in his chest made him almost want to hurl, but he kept his voice steady. "She's smart, Bruce. You of all people know that. What? You think she's just gonna buy the fact that I happen to know Green Arrow? Things aren't going to add up forever!"