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Bruce catches sight of her, even though he wasn’t particularly looking for her. But then again, her bleached skin stands out more than the average person. He’s dressed in a tailored navy blue suit, complete with matching cufflinks and a wrist watch on his left hand, a mask covering the top half of his face. He holds a glass of champagne in his hand, placed perfectly between two fingers as he chats with a politician. His focus isn’t particularly on the conversation at hand as his gaze follows the blond as she tucks herself in the corner behind the punch bowl.
“Excuse me a moment, will you?” He pardons himself as he moves through the throng of people that crowd the room. He makes a beeline for the woman whose now grasping a glass of red wine. Her eyes hold sorrow, yet a smile curls at her mouth as he approaches her.
“Harley,” he greets, raising the glass to her.
“Bruce,” she blinks at him for a moment, her large eyes scanning his body. “How ya doin’?”
“I should be asking you that question, Harley.” He ignored her question as he turned around and leaned against the table behind them. “How are you And the twins doing?”
Her hands shook as she brought the glass to her mouth at the question. “They’re healing. I had to get out of the hospital for the night. It hurts to see the burns on their skin. He-“ she choked as she thought of her twin boys laying in the hospital with burns up and down their tiny bodies. “He left afterwards, hasn’t been seen since he almost killed us.”
“Gordon is on the lookout for him,” Bruce doesn’t want her to think of the man who harmed her nor of the chemical baths Joker put her twins through more than a month ago. He’s been with her almost every night at the hospital.
Tears swell in her eyes and she reaches a hand out to him. He interlocks their fingers together and he gives her a reassuring smile. “How about we ditch this political nonsense and go sit atop a church somewhere?”
Her eyes light up at the thought. “No bombs? No bazooka?”
A light chuckle slips out of Bruce’s mouth and he confirms. She giddily slings her arm around his bicep before pulling him out of the place, pulling her hair out of the pig tails and letting her hair blow out behind her from the wind that bristles around them.