View source for 19804/A Manor of Introduction

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2025/01/05
|Location=Grand Hall - Wayne Manor
|Synopsis=No description
|Cast of Characters=40,184,165
|pretty=yes
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{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:40|Gwen Stacy (40)}} has posed:'''<br>Try as they might to have crossed the Barbara's New Years Eve party to reach the elusive Bruce Wayne, Dick and Gwen missed him at the Clocktower. Realistically, Gwen should probably have anticipated the sheer number of people they would be greeting as they went, but it was more than she would have imagined. Dick had said he knew almost everyone there, and he was right.<br><br>It's not that being social is completely out of her wheelhouse. She's not shy by any stretch of the imagination. She used to be a drummer in a band for God's sake! Although, that was in a completely different dimension...<br><br>It's funny, how life works. Nightwing -- Dick Grayson -- was the first person to find her when she was dropped unceremoniously into this world by that dimensional portal nearly five years ago. She was bleeding. Her costume had been torn. She had nothing. No home. No family. No friends. He took her in, gave her a place to stay, food, and took her to get clothes the next day (* see +scene 7). And now, for almost two months, they've been living together in the Lakehouse on the Wayne Estate.<br><br>It feels fast to a lot of people. Gwen's 'father' in this dimension included. As far as George Stacy knows, they just met, and his daughter made the dubious decision to give up her apartment in Greenwich Village and move in with a near stranger in Gotham.&nbsp;&nbsp;Dick's engagement to Stephanie Brown had just ended not long before. <br><br>But, here they are, two months later. Still together. Still looking as happy as the day they 'met' -- or rather... re-met. That's another long story involving magic and Zatanna making the entire world forget that the original Gwen Stacy from this dimension died so that this Gwen Stacy could take her place. It's complicated.<br><br>They rang in the new year together, but there's still something that's been on their to-do list. Gwen brought Dick to her father's apartment for Thanksgiving, but she has yet to meet his -- or, at least, his father-figure. So, after missing him on New Years Eve, Dick had made the arrangements with Bruce, and just now the two of them were stepping through the door of the Manor.<br><br>It's been cold, but not quite cold enough to snow. Gwen's wearing an age-appropriate skater dress, light blue with a leather jacket, wool-lined black leggings, and ankle boots. She has a black choker around her neck, simple earrings, and her hair is cut short around her chin in a bob, blonde with pink highlights. She gives off a kind of punk-rock vibe, but she's barely wearing any makeup. <br><br>Inside, Gwen sticks close to Dick, like she's not quite sure she's allowed to wander off on her own. For having lived on the property for two months, she's been in the Manor a remarkably few times.. hardly at all. They keep saying they're going to, but life has a habit of getting in the way when you're juggling what amounts to two or three full-time jobs each.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:184|Dick Grayson (184)}} has posed:'''<br>It's not that Dick hasn't brought Gwen up to the Manor at all of course. <br><br>He wouldn't get through the holiday season without stopping in to see Alfred, to exchange gifts with the distinguished older gentleman. He is every bit as much a part of Dick's family as Bruce is - a grandfather of sorts. Certainly there is no member of the 'Bat Family' that doesn't hold him in the highest of regards. <br><br>While the dark haired man is well past the point of seeking out either Bruce's approval or permission, at a certain point it is just strange that he hasn't introduced his girlfriend to his father figure. It raises questions, because while Bruce Wayne might be a busy man, he's not -that- busy, right? <br><br>Questions are not something that their sort really encourage. Just the opposite really. And while Dick might have no secrets from Gwen, he is a little more cautious about the secrets of others. Particularly -the- secret. <br><br>So, suffice to say that it is well past time to insure that Gotham's First Citizen and his blonde girlfriend finally meet. <br><br>While he might not call the Manor itself home, instead living in one corner of the estate in the Lake House gifted to him by Bruce, it is still a home of a sort. The place he grew up. Where he became Robin. Where he learned what he was truly capable. It shaped his life forever. <br><br>Just like the two men who call it home. Who will seemingly always call it home. <br><br>So Dick doesn't knock at the front door, or go through formal entrance at all, instead leading Gwen around the side of the house and along the back, past the greenhouse that Alfred maintains to insure so many fresh herbs and vegetables year round. And into the kitchen. <br><br>"Lets be glad that there's no snow yet. Still, we probably want to leave our shoes here," he says, gesturing about the mud room. Old habits die hard, and Dick has been well trained by the Wayne's butler on his expectations for keeping the Manor near and tidy. "This is still the best room in the house. It always smells amazing, regardless of what Alfred happens to be making on this particular day. Oooooh, maybe he's made cookiees recently. <br><br>Thirty years old and still, it's hard not to get excited about the possibility of Alfred's chocolate chip cookiees. Of course, anyone who's tried them could hardly blame him.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:165|Bruce Wayne (165)}} has posed:'''<br>It isn't Bruce Wayne that can be found entering through one of the back doors. This one in particular leads in from the garden and the scents that are there to welcome visitors is sure to send mouths watering. The Wayne family's faithful and downright stalwart butler, Alfred Pennyworth, can be found within the kitchen. He's in the midst of pulling a tray from the oven when the door opens and the sight of the pair entering brings a warmth smile to his aged features. "Ah, Master Dick, welcome," he says with a kindly smile as he settles the tray of piping hot cookies onto the stovetop. Alfred sheds the pair of oven mitts that he wears, depositing them to a rather large center island within the kitchen. He moves with deliberate purpose, but still with the care of someone whose age has began to catch up to him.<br><br>He makes for both Dick and Gwen, offering a polite bow of his head to the pair before he extends both hands toward Gwen in offer, along with a polite but no less warm greeting, "Miss Stacy, it is a pleasure to see you again, welcome, welcome, is there anything there anything that I can retrieve for you? Either of you?" He says the final part with a glance toward Dick and his smile is soft, but no less prominent for him.<br><br>"There is cocoa ready for each of you if it pleases you. White chocolate chip cookies with cranberries as a late night snack if you so desire," he explains with a gentle gesture aside and toward the island, as though welcoming the pair to seat themselves upon one of the stools gathered around it.<br><br>"Master Wayne will join you both momentarily," Alfred explains with a glance toward Dick and then back to Gwen, who seems to cause his smile to brighten just a touch more, "if you won't be needing me further, I'll leave you two to your evening while you await his arrival."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:40|Gwen Stacy (40)}} has posed:'''<br>"I don't think I'll ever get used to this," Gwen's saying as they come through the door, her blue eyes gazing around in wonder.<br><br>She grew up a cop's daughter in a two-bedroom apartment in Queens, and she had no complaints about those living arrangements. It was home. It was warm. It was all she knew, all she wanted. She still hadn't even gotten used to the Lakehouse. Not really. All glass walls and expensive furniture and gorgeous views of the lake... it's like living full-time in a house you should only afford to vacation in once every few years. The manor itself? It's a real life castle, as far as she's concerned.<br><br>Even as she laughs at Dick's mentions of cookies -- like he's twelve -- she's already complying with his suggestion to take her shoes off, bending each knee to bring her boot up so she can unzip it. She slips each off without so much as holding on to a wall for support, a smooth, effortless thing for her. But then, there are quite a few things about her posture and movements that make it clear she's had years of ballet. So, maybe that's it.<br><br>"Alfred!"<br><br>The greeting is returned warmly, taking the man's hands and giving them a gentle squeeze even as Gwen's height is taken down a few inches by standing in her stocking feet instead of her boots.<br><br>"You don't have to call me Miss Stacy," she says warmly, her voice tinged with laughter. "Just Gwen is more than okay." But it's that offer, as she's releasing Alfred's hands, that draws a little shake of her head ? an immediate insistence that she didn't need anything... followed by a quickly darting glance to the cocoa that's already ready.<br><br>"Oh! You didn't have to..." But this is what Alfred does. So that insistence is cut a little short by a bashful smile. "Thank you. Really. It all smells delicious."<br><br>And even though there's that offer to go take a seat, she doesn't rush forward. She hangs back next to Dick, glancing his way when Alfred asks if they need anything further, and following his lead. <br><br>She may not be shy, but she is, if anything, a fish out of water.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:184|Dick Grayson (184)}} has posed:'''<br>That Alfred would already be prepared for their visit, that he can practically predict it really doesn't surprise Dick in the least. He just has that sort of instinct it seems. <br><br>Or else he puts little electronic surveillance devices in all of their clothes so he can keep tabs on them all. That is not entirely outside the realm of possibility either. The man is every bit as ingenious as the rest of them after all. <br><br>In some ways, stepping into that kitchen makes it very much like Dick is twelve years old again. The familiar scents, the familiar sights, it all takes him back in an instant. Even the ever present butler himself. His hair might be a little thinner, might have a little more grey in it. But it's still Alfred. The man who had hot cocoa waiting after every wintery expedition out as Robin, the Boy Wonder. <br><br>The grin on his face is positively boyish to be sure and the sight of the cookiees and steaming hot drinks waiting for them definitely do not disappoint. They're not even simple chocolate chip cookies at that. Those alone would be enough to commit some fairly serious misdemanors for. These are the fancy ones. Probably worth a felony or two. <br><br>Though this might not be the right sort of house to express that particular sentiment. <br><br>Despite the warm, if formal greeting from Alfred, Dick slips an arm around the man, leaning in to give him a hug before moving right on past to retrieve those steaming mugs, offering one to Gwen quickly so that he can grab a cookiee too, a bite swiftly taken, savored, closing his eyes for just a moment. "You never disappoint Alfred," he says lightly. "This is great, thanks. Definitely a welcome treat," he says before the man can excuse himself. <br><br>Only then does he turn back to Gwen. "You know that we're stealing a half dozen or so of these before we go, right? It's a given, agreed? I know you didn't expect to fall into a life of crime when we started dating, but I think you'll have to concede it's worth it," he says, a sly grin sliding over his face as he joins her once more by the island counter, taking her hand in his own. <br><br>"Nervous?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:165|Bruce Wayne (165)}} has posed:'''<br>The hug given to Alfred is returned in kind, albeit with a small measure of well-trained formality as one such as Alfred Pennyworth is sure to embody. While he may as well be family among those who inhabit Wayne Manor, he is still a consummate professional and that comes with certain expectations and self-regulated measures taken. Though despite his professionalism, there is an undeniable warmth about the Wayne's longtime butler. Toward many of the guests of the estate, but in particular those whom have been under his charge in some fashion or another for the last several decades.<br><br>When the embrace is departed however, Alfred shuffles himself toward one of many otherwise unremarkable drawers spread throughout the kitchen. The drawer rolls out with minimal fanfare while Gwen and Dick talk among themselves. Into the drawer Alfred reaches and out of the drawer he withdraws a pair of baggies containing cookies. Neatly packaged and with flowing script denoting whom each of the two bags belong: Master Dick &amp; Miss Gwen, on two separate bags lest the children be predisposed to fighting among themselves to claim a helping from the other's baggie.<br><br>Soon the kitchen door swings open and in strides the scion of Wayne. He's dressed as though he's only recently left a shower, with his dark hair still glistening with the last vestiges of damp and smelling freshly of teak and sandalwood. He pauses a step into the kitchen and sends a glance toward Alred, whom he favors with a soft nod and a subdued smile, "They're all settled then?" The question carries with it a degree of warmth, but it's clear that the question is asked with some unspoken question at play.<br><br>Alfred replies in turn with a shallow bow, "Of course, Master Bruce. They're excited and the very picture of young love," he says with some measure of admiration and happiness to his aging voice.<br><br>Bruce offers a nod in return, before he finally turns his attention to both Dick and Gwen. He takes a few striding steps through the kitchen and toward the island, approaching Dick first. He reaches out to offer him a heavy-handed pat upon the shoulder, "I see Alfred was ready for your arrival," he says with a smile that seems to grow greater than only a moment ago.<br><br>Then it's toward Gwen that Bruce's attention turns. He considers her for only a moment, but not so long as to generate some sort of uncomfortable silence. He steps toward her with a hand extended and Bruce Wayne's charm is pushed to the forefront, his blue eyes practically taking on a light of their own as his eyebrows dance higher and his smile only serves to grow all the broader, "And this must be Gwen," he announces. It isn't a question, but simply an acknowledgment as his hand is extended toward her and he adds, "I'm Bruce, of course," he says with a playful smile. As though he could be anyone else.<br><br>He then spares a glance from Dick to Gwen, back and forth, and then finally toward Alfred before he offers, "Alfred, please, go rest and have the rest of the night off. I can look after them," he says with utter certainty.<br><br>It doesn't take long for Alfred to offer another bow, parting farewells, and then excuse himself for the evening.<br><br>Back to Bruce, he's moving to gather up mugs and the remainder of the cookies to deposit onto the center of the island as though convening some grand council. It is during these host duties that Bruce asks with a glance between Gwen and Dick, or Gwick, that Bruce asks, "So, how'd you two meet? One of the classic tales? Gwen ran into Dick. Dick was smitten. The rest is history?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:40|Gwen Stacy (40)}} has posed:'''<br>Of course, since Dick's 'lead' is just going in and raiding the kitchen, Gwen's actual response is to just made her way in whenever it doesn't feel like she's rushing Alfred out and loitering in a place that feels safe... like near the island.<br><br>It ends up putting her near the mugs, but she doesn't reach for one. Instead, it's Dick turning back to her and handing her a cookie that gets her attention.<br><br>"Are these the same, famous cookies you had that first night I came over? Because I ate so many I had a tummy ache."<br><br>Then comes the first bite, and even her eyes close.<br><br>"Ohmagrd," she grunts out while she's still chewing, though she at least has enough manners to raise a hand to cover her mouth.<br><br>"Nrvfhph? Nuhu. Wererimacastl -- " <br><br>Of course, even as she's saying that with her mouth full, it seems to reminder her that she is, in fact, in a castle, and that she probably should have better manners than that. Here, even if nowhere else. So, instead of continuing as she ordinarily would, she holds up a finger, chews, and swallows.<br><br>"Why would I be nervous?" Sarcasm drips from her voice, even as she blinks innocently up at him, her smile adoring despite her flippant tone. "We're in a castle waiting to meet the billionaire who raised the man I love. This is like a Tuesday for me." This, along with a playful roll of her eyes towards the ceiling, as she squeezes his hand and takes a step briefly into him. <br><br>Her head dips towards his chest, resting her temple there for only a couple of seconds... just long enough for Bruce to come in and Gwen to practically jump back, clearing her throat awkwardly as she watches him and waits her turn.<br><br>That Brice Wayne smile turns on her, his hand extended, and for just a second there's a sharp, perhaps surprisingly intelligent flicker of 'Oh, I get it, now' in her expression. Nothing that would make the greeting any more awkward than she already does, but it's almost like a recognition in the corner of her own smile. So that's how he gets all the women -- at least, if the tabloids are to be believed. <br><br>"Mister Wayne," she answers warmly as she takes his hand, even though he introduced himself as Bruce. "It's really nice to meet you. Dick's told me so much about you and how he grew up."<br><br>Which probably sounds a lot more ominous, under the circumstances, than it actually is. But, when you don't know, you don't know what you don't know. And from her perspective, it's the truth!<br><br>When Alfred's given the night off, her gaze turns back to him, though, and she offers a cheery wave. "Goodnight, Alfred!"<br><br>And finally it's back to Dick, like the man has some sort of gravitational pull on her. She's not quite to the point of hanging on him, but she keeps close enough to brush a shoulder against him at least, usually slipping a hand into his when they aren't otherwise drinking or eating.<br><br>"Actually.. kind of.. that exactly," she answers the meet cute question. "Although, I'm pretty sure it was mutual." Laughter threatens to bubble up as she glances at Dick, realizing that they hadn't yet worked out exactly what version of the story they were going to tell.<br><br>So.. that expectant look she gives him seems to be a prompt to take over while she reaches for one of those mugs of hot chocolate to busy herself with.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:184|Dick Grayson (184)}} has posed:'''<br>As Alfred is given his leave to call it a night - not that he probably will so much as just give the rest of them a little necessary space to have their meet and greet at last, Dick tosses a smile after the elderly gentleman. <br><br>"Thanks again Alfred. I'll drop by again in the next couple of days. We'll chat," he promises him. Of course, said visit will probably serve a couple of different purposes if he's honest. There is a pretty good chance that he will be bringing a stockpile of baked goods and ready-made meals back to the Lake House when he does. <br><br>Not that is the reason he'll be stopping by for the visit of course. That just happens to be one of the fringe benefits. <br><br>As Bruce finally slips in, Dick offers a smile and nod to him as well. "Sorry to just drop in. And sorry we missed you at Babs' party. It got a little crazy as we got close to midnight." <br><br>They didn't manage to extricate themselves quite as quickly and efficently as the dark haired billionaire did of course, but then few ever do. Still, they too took to the rooftops of the city not that long afterwards, dealing with yet another holiday in the city nearly turned into a tragedy. <br><br>So same ol', same ol'. <br><br>"Actually, in a way I kind of have you to thanks," Dick admits with a grin. "I was attending an OsCorp press conference on behalf of the Wayne Foundation. Gwen interns with them, so was part of the presentation. So yeah, you pretty much got it in one. She slipped, I caught her and that was that," he admits fondly. <br><br>It's the sort of story that many couples with share. Their own version of MeetCute. Of course it is only part of the story. <br><br>The Bat Files on other superhumans is... extensive to say the least. So that file would surely have the real record. That he met her almost five years ago when she arrived from another dimension. That she is not this Earth's Gwen Stacy, but from another reality altogether. <br><br>Or maybe it doesn't. Maybe the fact that Zatanna used her magic to make everyone forget the truth until Gwen chose to share it effects even digital information. Regardless, Dick has no doubt shared the fact that their association goes back much more then two months. <br><br>At least once she told him about the spell and his own memory of their original meeting returned. <br><br>"So I guess we kind of owe you a big thanks," he adds wryly.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:165|Bruce Wayne (165)}} has posed:'''<br>It doesn't take long for Bruce to roll up his sleeves, slip away to a cupboard, and with a craning neck peer after the way that Alfred had gone. He waits. He watches. He listens. After a moment he removes a small bottle of bourbon from one of the cabinets and tread on tipping toes back to the island. He eyes Gwen for a moment, then casts a wary glance toward Dick, and then back to Gwen before he asks, "You're twenty one, right?"<br><br>Then he uncaps the bottle and pours a generous gulp or two into his mug of hot cocoa. The bottle's then set down, somewhere between himself, Dick, and Gwen. The rules of finders-keepers are in effect, it seems.<br><br>A cleared throat later and Bruce's attention begins to drift between the pair, listening to their tale. He nods along at relevant points and seems to smile at the mention of Dick quite literally catching Gwen. By the end of the short story and the thanks allegedly owed to himself, Bruce's smile returns and he seems to demure with a casual wave of his hand, "Thank yourselves. I didn't have any hand in it. If I did, you two did one of the harder parts, so you two should thank each other".<br><br>Again his smile returns, though it's short lived this time. That's because a moment later and his newly spiced-up mug of hot cocoa is now new and improved with a little bit of the olde night cap. When the mug lowers again, Bruce's lips purse and curl inward to brush away the last remnants with an unseen swipe of his tongue.<br><br>"Two months now, right? Taking things as they go or is there some sort of plan in mind?" He seems friendly enough and inquisitive as to their specific circumstances and aspirations. No doubt he's probing and gathering information, unraveling unspoken mysteries in the way that his questions are answered and the body language that accompanies the language. While Bruce Wayne presses warmth and Everyman hospitality to the front, his blue eyes seem to consider the pair with a certain coolness that is far from mechanical, but like one may expect of the privileged appraising and measuring the weight of another. Or in this case: a relationship.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:40|Gwen Stacy (40)}} has posed:'''<br>Magic is... weird. <br><br>Did Zatanna erase the fact that Gwen died from reality or just people's perception of it? Does the death certificate still exist? Is the original Gwen still buried in her grave? Was it a one time thing, or is it an ongoing, global phenomena where people are simply forced through magic not to notice? Even if they're holding the death certificate or looking at the grave, maybe they don't see it or have the urge just walk away.<br><br>More than once, Gwen's been tempted to go find the grave. It's been five years since she arrived here.. six since the other Gwen died. It's time, right? Or will doing that create some sort of paradox that obliterates reality? <br><br>It's probably not worth it to find out.<br><br>As far as Bruce Wayne is concerned, though, it's probably better to give him the same version she gave her father. Even if Bruce does know that Dick is Nightwing, which seems likely even though she'd never come right out and asked, he doesn't really need to get hit in the face with the fact that his adopted son is dating an inter-dimensional fugitive whose own father tried to arrest her... twice. It's just not a great first impression.<br><br>As far as Batman's concerned, though? It's probably not difficult at all for him to figure out that the same day Ghost-Spider started showing up in Gotham, tagging along with Nightwing, is the same day that Dick's new girlfriend moved in to the Lakehouse. Probably not the hardest puzzle for one of the world's greatest detectives to solve, even without all the fancy equipment and historical records.<br><br>That laughter that had been threatening to bubble up before actually does when Dick gives Bruce the credit. She's cradling her hot cocoa between two hands, smallish fingers spread out around the mug for warmth, and she presses her shoulder into his side, with a sidelong grin.<br><br>"I fully expected falling off a stage to ruin my whole week, but it turns out to have been a life changing experience," she muses, letting her gaze wander back to Bruce. "So, direct hand in it or not, I'm still grateful to you. And not just for that."<br><br>There's something heavier in those last few words. Something more significant, like it's the whole series of events. If Bruce hadn't taken Dick in, he wouldn't have been there at all. He wouldn't have been Nightwing. He wouldn't have found her on that rooftop five years ago. She has.. a lot to be grateful to Bruce for, even if maybe right this moment isn't the best time to go into it.<br><br>When the alcohol is brought out, though, and her age is asks, her smile grows more sheepish. "Twenty three," she assures, but there's a hesitation that follows. It almost seems like she might decline outright, but then she sets her mug down, takes the bottle, adds a dollop to her own cup -- just a small one -- and then offers some to Dick.<br><br>"Two months," she echoes while she's doing that, and it seems like having something to keep her busy helps with the nerves. She seems increasingly more relaxed. "We've talked some. We both want kids, some day. I'm working on my Masters in Molecular Genetics at Empire State University, and then I'll write my dissertation for my Doctorate in Genetic Engineering. Dick is talking about sitting for the detective's exam." A little smile quirks her lips as she looks back to Bruce. "My dad is a Captain with the NYPD, so it's not like I'm unfamiliar with the job."<br><br>A pause, then, and an affectionate smile at Dick. "Anyway, there's time to figure it all out," she says before looking back to Bruce, again, like she'd gotten sidetracked from something she's been meaning to say. "This mansion! You must hear this all the time, but it's... incredible. And, I get that the Lakehouse is Dick's, but everyone's been so friendly.. and I just.. I wanted to make sure I say thank you. For taking the time to meet me. I can't imagine everything you have going on, and it means a lot."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:184|Dick Grayson (184)}} has posed:'''<br>Truthfully Dick is no more taken aback or reluctant to delve into future plans then it would seem Gwen herself is. While two months might seem like much, it is, in point of fact, two months going on five years. <br><br>They live unusual lives at times, there is certainly no denying that particular fact. When they need to start to worry about the implications of magic spells and deimensional variances. Where he could, in theory, visit the grave of his girlfriend potentially. Where the man he met, who was introduced to him as her father isn't really her father. <br><br>Not that his own existence isn't full with some pretty unusual circumstances as well. Given that he spent the first eight years of his life growing up in a circus. That he was performing on the trapeze before he learned to ride a bike. That he was raised by Bruce Wayne and his butler. <br><br>And that doesn't even touch on Bruce. <br><br>There's a certain surreal part of all of their lives. <br><br>"A few things will probably have to wait," he agrees, his gaze flickering away from Bruce, back to Gwen, lingering their warmly. "She's still commuting on the Hyperloop right now. Thank our lucky stars for high speed travel," Dick admits wryly. Not that the trip to Manhattan is really all that much longer via conventional means. <br><br>"I mean, it's hard to even question her working for OsCorp instead of much superior options, given that they inadvertantly played a part in bringing us together," he says, teasing her gently. <br><br>The question of whether or not Gwen is at least twenty-one draws a wry glance from Dick though as she confirms that, as she adds a dollop from that bottle to her own mug, Dick reaches to do the same, jsut a little. He doesn't need a whole lot of extra holiday cheer, truth be told. It's already been a pretty merry Christmas season. <br><br>"There will be some decisions to be made when she graduates, but that's a ways off still. But it should help, having the detective exams under my belt by then." <br><br>He seems to take it for granted that he will pass, that he will make detective. But then consider who exactly trained him. Chances are he could have written it in his sleep. The day after he joined the police academy back in Bludhaven. <br><br>"Anyway, like she said. I know it's a busy time of year, but I'm glad we could catch you in one of these nights. It's not like we have a lot of other neighbors to just drop by and say hello to," he notes with just a hint of a grin.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:165|Bruce Wayne (165)}} has posed:'''<br>"I can say that if I fell off of a stage, I think it'd ruin my whole month. Let alone a week," Bruce answers with a quiet chuckle as he settles one hand around his mug, "but leave it to Dick to always be in the right place at the right time". He allows for the heat that it radiates to seep into his palm and fingers, soothing away some ache or another. His attention turns aside to regard Dick for a moment while Gwen speaks and then back to her while Dick speaks. No doubt much of his ability to split his attention comes from his time overseeing Wayne Enterprises and its various arms. While they answer separately, it's their answers given in combination that seem to draw a thoughtful expression to Bruce's casually stern expression.<br><br>"The Hyperloop is useful for that," Bruce remarks with a faint smile that tugs at one corner of his mouth. It's the mention of the detective's exam that seems to draw a tilt to Bruce's head and he seems to consider that particular ambition. He nods along with it after a moment and again Bruce's smile returns, prominent and charismatic as always, "You'll do great," he says as a vote of confidence in Dick's likelihood of success.<br><br>Then it's back to Gwen his attention shifts and he permits himself a brief sip from the mug of cocoa, feeling the heat of not only the hot beverage but also the smoky warmth of the additive to burn its way down his throat. For only a moment his blue eyes dance across Gwen's presence, seemingly taking in the details of her attire and physical appearance before he asks, "A doctorate in genetic engineering? That is truly impressive, Gwen. Do you have a particular career path you hope to apply that toward or is that something that's still in the air?" He pauses for a moment and his smile surges forward again, his eyes alighting with a bit of subdued delight before he lifts a hand to gentle forestall any anxiousness that his asking may provoke, "I'm just curious what sort of field you might apply that. I'm not asking to interrogate you," he says with plain old good natured amusement.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:40|Gwen Stacy (40)}} has posed:'''<br>"And they're paying for my degree. That buys them a little loyalty," Gwen muses about OsCorp. "Even if I'm otherwise working mostly for praise... which only comes in the form of more work."<br><br>The mention of there being decisions to be made when she graduates, though, has her smile warming even more. And without even seeming to realize it, she seems to shift her weight so subtly that she drifts back into Dick, not just in his space but letting a little of her weight rest back against him.<br><br>Her's first sip of her newly spiked hot chocolate makes it apparent just how often she doesn't drink alcohol. She doesn't choke to death or anything, but even with just that one sip, there's a light soft, sudden huff of air like a single cough she was trying to hide. And she hadn't even put that much in.<br><br>"So I'm learning," she muses about Dick being in the right place at the right time once she's gotten her breath back.<br><br>She doesn't miss the 'once over' or the praise that follows it, a little heat touching the backs of her cheeks as her smile turns more wry. Yes, she's a puzzle wrapped in an enigma. Punk rock meets science nerd. Add in super-human crime-fighter with the proportional strength of a spider, and all hope of putting her into a box disappears.<br><br>"It's fine," she assures with a little laugh. "I actually enjoy talking about it. I'm starting a research project right now with Dr. Miles Warren over at ESU. We're going to be looking at viral vectors -- basically using modified viruses to deliver gene therapy faster and more effectively. It's cutting-edge stuff, and I'm kind of geeking out about it because it feels like we're on the verge of something big. Like, 'change-how-we-treat-diseases' big."<br><br>Which doesn't even cover the fact that she's actually using that research project as an excuse to spy on Dr. Warren to see if he was involved in cloning this dimension's version of her best friend, the clone of whom is actually her ex-boyfriend, and... did we mention her life is complicated?<br><br>"But, long term? I'd love to tackle the heavy hitters -- things like Parkinson's or... cancer." <br><br>As before, there's a certain heavy weight to that word. But then, there would be. Her mother died of dancer when Gwen was thirteen. ..And then she died again, when Gwen was twenty, in this dimension. <br><br>"I know, it sounds ambitious, but why not shoot for something that could really change people's lives, right? My dad always said that.. if he didn't do the job, someone else would. Someone not as qualified. Someone that might get themselves or someone else killed. He's always felt like he has a responsibility to help people... and I guess I kind of get that from him."<br> <br>
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