Chapter Text
“Ready, Ms. Icterine?” Duke asked, holding out an arm. The suit was an awkward fit, borrowed from Tim, loose in places and tight in others, but it would do for tonight. He resisted the urge to straighten his yellow tie yet again.
Claire Clover took the proffered arm with a tentative smile, her gray opera gloves slipping down on her arm. “If you are, honey.”
Duke cringed, but felt his cheeks grow hot and his grimace loosening into an uncontrollable grin. He quickly looked away to straighten his face, then walked toward the door. With a flick of his wrist, it swung open, revealing the room within.
A small table sat casually laden with a variety of food. Around it on couches and chairs sat familiar faces.
Tim was adjusting his red cufflinks in the weak reflection of the grandfather clock, trying futilely to wave off Steph, who was shoving a red cape at him and emphasizing her argument with such wild gesturing Duke was worried she’d hit someone. “Come on, Tim, I can barely tell you’re supposed to be red!” She argued, the cape threatening to crush the poofy skirt of her light purple cocktail dress. Cassandra nodded her agreement from behind Steph, crossing her arms across her chest. She wore a simple but elegant black dress, her hair pinned out of her face by a pair of (real?) pearl pins.
In another corner, Damian Wayne pouted in one of the harder chairs, Ace at his feet. “I don’t see the purpose of dressing up.”
Beside him, Dick Grayson wore an impressively detailed police uniform. “Come on, Little D. It’s a chance to improve your skills at disguise. That’s important.”
Tim nodded, looking over his shoulder past Steph to join in. “He’s right, Damian.”
“Oh come on!” Steph complained, slapping the cape into Tim’s back to bring him back to the immediate crisis. “Just put on the damn cape, Tim.”
“It doesn’t fit with my cover—“
“Shame on you,” Jason said from his place, leaning against the wall away from the action. “After I let you be red!” He clutched his heart and shook his head disapprovingly.
“You were only too happy to be Mr. Gunmetal,” Tim said, giving up on the cufflinks to focus both hands on pushing Steph away.
Jason grabbed his other hand on the cape and pulled it out of his grasp. Steph pinned Tim’s arms behind him as Jason advanced. “Put on the cape, Tim. Red represents.”
Steph grinned at Jason over Tim’s shoulder. “Dead Robins stick together.”
“You bet they do, blondie,” Jason said with a smirk as Tim let out a long suffering sigh.
Tim rolled his eyes, but stopped trying to fight against Jason tying the cape on. “I hope I’m the murderer,” he muttered. “I am going to kill you both first.”
“You can try,” Steph smiled.
Jason pulled out a pack of cigarettes and slipped two into his mouth, keeping them unlit. They dangled ridiculously from his lips as he smirked.
“Guests!” Alfred’s voice broke through the chatter with the clarity and volume of an actor slicing through the rabble at the Globe. “Dr. Boddy has been murdered! You are all suspects!”
“If I did it, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to not establish an alib--oof!” Damian glared sideways at Dick, who looked innocently up at Alfred.
“There are clues scattered throughout the mansion. Solve the case to clear your name. Master Malachite, the ballroom. Mister...Gunmetal, the library. Lady Lilac, the conservatory. Professor Crimson, the study. Ms. Greige—“
“Mrs. Icterine,” Claire interrupted, holding up her hand. On the ring finger sat a hair tie carefully knotted so as to resemble a wedding band.
“—the pool,” Alfred continued without missing a beat.
“I guess this is where we split,” Duke said.
Claire nodded and pecked him on the cheek. “Stay safe, honey.”
“You too...darling,” Duke said, caught off guard.
Claire smirked and walked out of the room. Duke couldn’t help catching the way she walked in her heels, so much newfound confidence.
“Mr. Icterine, the other study.” Alfred nodded to him and pressed a map into his hand. Duke nodded solemnly, spun on his heel, and headed out into the hallway. He checked the paper. Right…left...left again….