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It’s easy to tell who comes from Gotham and who doesn’t, especially if you know what to look for. Besides the obvious tells - the talk, the walk and the swagger - there is a more telling, if more subtle give away: Gotham herself.
Outsiders wouldn’t and don’t understand. Once you were Gotham’s, you were Hers. Forever. No matter how far you traveled or moved away, a Gothamite can always feel Her. Feel Her in the lingering shadow behind you, in that tell-tale teasing brush of fingers on your shoulder, that constant presence, the Curse.
Well, Outsiders called Her a curse. Gothamites knew Her as Gotham.
That’s how it became easy to tell if someone was a Gothamite - their disdain for anything Metropolis and their shadows tinged with Her.
Even now, even in the middle of the Daily Planet smack dab in the heart of Metropolis, did Perry feel Gotham curling around his ankles like the world’s most affectionate sentient shackles. Could feel Her cackle wherever he intimidated fresh faced photographers, reporters and editors with a single unimpressed glare.
It’s the reason why he didn’t protest (much) at the sale of Daily Planet to Gotham’s very own prince: Brucie Wayne. Oh, Perry was ready to complain - very loudly in fact - until he met the scatter-brained billionaire in person. Perry had seen him before of course, being a native Gothamite himself it was nigh impossible to not know who the Waynes were. He did, however, hold in his more unsavory opinions as he felt Gotham’s insistent tugging and blatant disapproval whenever he did try to say anything.
Anyway, any real complaints he would have had vanished when he met Bruce Wayne in the flesh. The man was all perfectly pressed suits and a charming white smile encased in a cloud of cologne. He was, Perry grudgingly admitted, one hundred times more strikingly handsome in person than in any photographs. But what really got to Perry, what really got him to trust that Wayne wasn’t going to fuck them over by his airheadedness, was how dark his shadow was, how so wholly encased in Gotham he was.
Every Gothamite knows the Waynes rule Gotham. It’s not a statement, it’s a fact. The Waynes are Gotham’s founding and favorite family. All you had to do was look at their shadows to know. It’s why as much as Vicki Vale or other reporters filled tabloids and headlines with the Wayne brats, no one truly disputed Wayne’s adopted children as Waynes - their shadows were too dark, they were too claimed to be anything but Waynes.
And the Wayne patriarch was the perfect example of being Gotham claimed.
His shadow was a little too dark and if one looked hard enough, they could swear it flickered at the edges. It draped over him like velvet - an extension of his person, making him seem bigger, making his blue eyes glint almost unnaturally, making his pearlescent pointed teeth shine brighter.
Perry knew to stay away from those. Every Gothamite knew that olde gotham money had razor sharp teeth and sharpened claws. One didn’t get to the top without viciously biting and scratching. If Perry looked hard enough, he swore he could see the tips of Wayne’s claws, retracted.
Wayne took a non-offending All American accent most of the upper class spoke in, but every time he spoke, every time he moved, whenever he breathed even, Perry could feel the absolute Love Care Affection Pride Mine through his own shadow, could feel Gotham’s own claim of Wayne through his own connection through Her.
No one, Perry knew, could be as stupid or unassuming as Wayne presented himself with Gotham claiming him so loudly and so thoroughly. Gotham favored the strong, the smart and the sharp. The weak could never survive Her, so this was more telling than any financial or business report. At the very least, if Perry was going to be working for a billionaire, he’d rather it be this one than Luthor or heaven forbid Queen.
At least this one knew how to fight.
As Wayne made his rounds introducing himself to the Daily Planet staff, Perry stood off to the side leaning against the wall to observe Wayne and his staff.
Perry didn’t think anyone else noticed, but it was curious how Wayne’s shadow hung from his shoulders like a cape, sometimes flickering at the edges like a breeze was blowing. His claws stayed retracted and the only teeth that were seen to be pointed were his canines but Perry knew that large predatory cats presented themselves the same way; it didn’t make them any less dangerous.
Wayne’s shadow was more passive than Perry’s but that felt purposeful. Wayne’s shadow wasn’t hiding per se, it was just there, present but innocuous at the same time which Perry wondered at for a while considering Wayne’s shadow was darker than the night itself it seemed, a splash of India ink on the white of the Daily Planet office walls.
Perry knew there was mystery there and while he was never a big fan of mysteries, he would always be a fan of stories, and while he knew it’d take a while to fully unravel, he could be patient and wait for everything to fully resolve in front of him like a well written novel. Watching Wayne flit around almost made him snort. Perry wondered how he could keep that up.
It was also curious to note that of all the journalists present to meet their new owner, only Kent seemed to realize just how dangerous Wayne truly must be. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Kent. Interesting. It showed he had good instincts or at the very least common sense. Another something for him and his own shadow to look into later. He couldn’t wait.