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It isn’t a masquerade, but a high society soiree.
He sees her through the crowd, by chance of happening to look her way, and disengages from whatever discussion he hadn’t been paying mind to in the first place. She’s seen him; he knows she has, and he knows that if he takes his eyes off her he’ll lose her. Maybe forever, this time.
She doesn’t move from the window, poised to look the part as any other of the affluent revelers. But she’s not part of this world like he is. He knows that, now.
She meets his eyes briefly as he draws nearer, then returns her attention out into the city below, nearly touching the glass. At her side, he can see the faint traces of her breath on the window.
He’s dreamed of this since he lost her. Dared to hope for it. Rehearsed all the things he would say, over and over, if only. But he can’t remember any of them, can’t hardly think, other than how much he wants to sweep her into his arms and never let her go.
All he can manage is her name, whispered, as he reaches for her cheek. To know that she’s real, and not a figment of his dreams.
“Don’t,” she hisses. His hand hovers beside her cheek, and his dreams crack... just a little. He runs his fingers through his hair instead, before letting his hand drop. “I’m not here for you.”
“I looked for yo-...”
“I know.”
“Why are you here?” he asks, gently as he can.
She smiles, faintly. His heart flutters.
“Larceny.”
“Larcen-...?”
Alarmed, he spares the crowd a quick, discerning glance. But no one in it is paying them the slightest hint of interest.
“Selina, I...” he struggles, not to offer her everything. “If you need money, I... wouldn’t... wouldn’t expect...”
Her smile deepens, blooming into an enigmatic grin.
“I’m not doing it for the money, Bruce.”
It takes a moment to sink in, and he shakes his head. “Then what?”
“A cheap thrill.”
While he works to unravel that, she relieves him of his champagne glass and imbibes a dainty mouthful.
“Did you ever get your revenge?” she wonders quietly. “Something I’ve always wondered about you. That is why you do it, isn’t it? Revenge?”
She studies his face, and he suspects she already knows.
“Yes.” He sighs harshly. “I did.”
Swallowing, she turns her gaze back to the window. Taking another sip, she slides her finger through the condensation on the window glass, cutting it neatly in two.
“Did it help?” she presses on. “Or did it just... leave you all empty inside?”
“Selina...” He casts another glance back into the crowd. Licks his lip. Knows the answer. Asks anyway, “Can we go somewhere? Just to talk?”
“Second chances are overrated,” she points out.
He supposes she would know.
“What about the first one we never really had?”
Her head snaps towards him, and he knows, deep down, that he’s cracked her defenses.
“Talk?”
“Talk.” He whispers, “Please.”
It’s not quite a flinch, the way her eyes flutter shut as he touches her cheek. She’s angry. Hurt. Lost. Still lost. He knows the feeling, all too well. She nods, curtly.
He lets his hand drop to her shoulder, and gives her arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze before taking her hand.
She doesn’t look back as she leads him off into the crowd.