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"Master Wayne, there's a phone call for you."
Bruce is halfway under the batmobile, hands black with grease, and Alfred is interrupting him over a phone call? "Well, then, take a message." Wait a minute; Alfred never interrupts him over a simple phone call.
Alfred is halfway through saying, "I think you'll want to take this call," by the time Bruce is out from under the car and heading for the stairs.
Years moonlighting as a man dressed like a giant bat keeps his, "Hello?" steady, even after running up a couple flights, but he's a little more winded than he wound have been a year - maybe two - ago.
Batman isn't supposed to get old.
"Did you have to change out of your tights?" the voice on the other line is soft, husky, amused; familiar and too far away.
"Selina?"
She laughs - a short, quiet laugh so unlike the last time he heard that sound. It's a strangely comforting sound even as it stirs a yearning he'd thought he'd put behind him. "You still remember me. I'm, touched."
Despite the dryness of her tone, Bruce suspects she actually might be.
"You're hard to forget." He racks his brain for the right thing to say, the right question to ask - but Selina Kyle still has the ability to make it hard for him to think. Finally, lamely, he gently asks, "How have you been?" because that's been at the top of his thoughts about Selina that never wholly go away.
How are you, Selina? Are you happy? Is it you I keep hearing about, pulling off diamond heists and stealing feline artifacts?
Are you at peace with yourself yet? Will you ever come back?
The other line is silent for several moments, and he's worried that all she wanted was to hear his voice, find out if he still thought of her, and then move on. He's pulled a similar move with Vicki before; though he at least said goodbye, told her he loved her latest photos, hoped she was happy.
"Busy," Selina finally whispers. "I've been busy. Judging by the news in Gotham, you have been, too."
"My line of work never slows down."
Another laugh, then, "Maybe, but one of these days you'll have to, you know."
Bruce lets out a huff - dry and self-deprecating because that's a nagging thought that's been on his mind too much lately. He's grateful that Alfred left him alone, because while Bruce can ignore the signs of wear and tear on himself, Alfred refuses to. "Yeah. You know, same goes for you."
"That's what books are for." There's a soft sigh and, "Is it any easier? Reconciling those two truths?"
Yes. No. Sometimes. Maybe. Bruce isn't sure what to say. He wants to say what she needs to hear - but what Selina needs and deserves is the truth. "Some days yes. Some days, it's harder. And...for you?"
"I wasn't much of a novel reader when I was younger," she says, evading the question. Or maybe answering it in her own way. "I didn't think I had the time; always too busy and too eager to please. Lately, though...curling up with a good book, it's a nice escape. When running across rooftops and sneaking through shadows doesn't work. Surely even for you that most sometimes lose is potency."
He can't believe he's having this conversation. Especially over the phone. And yet, there's something strangely cathartic about all of this. "Yeah, sometimes. But I don't do it to escape."
"Oh, really? You said it yourself once, Bruce. We're the same." Her words and wry tone make it obvious he won't convince her otherwise - and she's right. "I'm reading Carmilla, currently. By Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, a vampire novella. You know, this came before Dracula. A female vampire. She even turns into a black cat."
"I don't recall that one. You like it?"
"Yes. Though I doubt I'll like the ending very much. After this one, I thought I'd read The Scarlet Pimpernel, by Emma Orczy."
Bruce smiles; he's sensing a trend in Selina's reading list. It suits her. "The original hero with a secret identity. Surprisingly, I haven't read it."
Selina is quiet again for several moments. "Well, why don't you get a copy of these two, if your ridiculously large library doesn't have them. I'm curious what you'll think of Carmilla. Maybe we could read the first in the Scarlet Pimpernel series together. See if the rest of the series is worth it."
"So, you'll call ever so often, and we'll discuss classic literature that strikes too close to home? Have a themed book club?"
"You make it sound more ridiculous than dressing up like a giant man bat and beating up random hoodlums, Bruce."
They're both chuckling, softly, and it's good; it's warm and normal in its own weird way. It's not even close to what Bruce actually wants - he's a hypocrite but he'll overlook all the thefts, all the damage, he just wants Selina to come back - but it's a start. And if it's as far as things go, it's enough.
It'll be enough.
"Sounds good."
"Take care of yourself, Bruce. And my cat."
He shakes his head and glances at said cat who's been eyeing him through barely open slits from her perch atop the grandfather clock. "You're lucky she's a black cat, because she sheds everywhere."
This time when Selina laughs it's loud and throaty, and Bruce can imagine her head tossed back, neck exposed, hair wild. It's a beautiful sight, he knows. "Hhm, at least your suit is rubber, less clingy. I doubt people care if billionaire Bruce Wayne shows up with cat hair on his fine suits." She's still thoroughly amused, he can hear it, a tiny giggle escaping her after that.
Cat hair on the bat suit wouldn't do wonders for his reputation, for sure.
"She's good, Selina. Even Alfred's attached."
"Good. Bruce..."
He waits when she trails off; doesn't push or prod, even though he very much wants to know what the rest of that sentence is. When a full minute passes by and nothing, he knows whatever she says next, it's probably something different. Something safer. And he understands that all too well; he's pulled that same trick too many times to count, with Vicki, with Dick, even with Alfred.
"It was good to hear you again."
The safer option. He isn't really letdown; it's enough.
"You too, Selina. Take care of yourself, too."
Click.