A Day Late & A Dollar... [Bruce W, Selina K.]

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There were few things in life that were as certain as death and taxes.  One such constant in Bruce Wayne's life had been one lovely lady by the name of Vicki Vale. He could always count on Vicki to be there for him when he needed to get his name out there, to play up the idea that Bruce Wayne was simply a largely irresponsible playboy of epic proportion.  She was beautiful and unlike many of the other women that had been paraded through the best and brightest nightlife on Bruce Wayne's rather dashing arm, she was actually someone he enjoyed spending time with.  Outside of being not-too-bad to look at, Vicki was what many would call smart as a whip. 

"Huh," Bruce hung up the phone and walked away from his desk.  He'd made reservations tonight for the two of them at a restaurant he knew she preferred.  The last few times they'd made plans he'd been otherwise occupied with his other job.  Standing her up couldn't be helped and he'd had to make up some random excuse or another at the time.  Explaining that unfortunate pattern of events to the young lady was on his agenda.  He had simply been waiting for the right time.  It was possible, of course, that tonight may have been that time.  Miss Vale had other plans, for the evening, that is.

She's never been busy before.  Weird. 

Time for plan B.  Bruce called the first woman who his finger landed upon in his little black book.  He kept it in his desk here at Wayne Tower under lock and key.  Oh, the stories the pages of this little directory could tell, if Bruce had actually been as involved with them as the press might have wanted to make people believe. "Betina...Bettie, that's right.  Lovely to speak with you again.  It has been a long while.  Tell me, how would you like to have dinner in a Michelin Star with one of Gotham's finest?"  That settled, Bruce hung up the phone and grinned though it was immediately lost when he began to consider that a woman who had never turned him down just had, "Vicki what are you up to?"

--- two hours later ---

Bruce Wayne's Ferrari arrived at the valet station at number 12 East 12th Street.  A Michelin Star approved restaurant that had once served his parents one of their favorite meals.  It was for that reason that the staff knew, even if he wouldn't eat it, Bruce Wayne always ordered the lamb.  Entering any public place always caused a stir when Bruce was involved.  The man knew how to make his presence known, after all it was all for show.  He smiled, he and his date Betina "Bettie" Guthrie, captured for page six.  His smiled narrowed along with his eyes as he spotted Miss Selena Kyle inside, with a gentleman he felt looked a bit familiar.  A new plan of action in place, Bruce ushered his date for the moment toward Kyle's table.  Once he was standing beside the seated pair, Bruce smiled the smile that did not quite make it to his eyes, "Miss Kyle, I see you've recovered from your migraine."

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Public appearances were just that. An act of sorts to put on a face, get a certain poise down, a specific mood right for the masses. Tonight, among Metropham whisperings and mutterings, Selina was out and about. She had several men she was needed to meet with, but this one would do for the night. Over their starting drinks of some aged vintage wine, she had toasted her date with the most coy of smiles before their glasses clinked, the crystal sparkling.

She'd have preferred a less public place if she were dining intimately, but the table near a window, yet primely situated so that most new guests would need to pass it was welcomed. As she politely perused the menu, a couple paused at her elbow, a familiar, yet not quite welcoming voice rang at her ears. Gingerly setting her menu down she took her time in turning to look at the woman. Some throwaway socialite wanna-be. Guthrie, if she was remembering the bottle blonde from a gathering or three. Bruce looked ever the fop, dressed to the nines. He should've taken up acting, as he was overdoing a few things tonight. She almost winked at him, from remembering her last murmured excuse to get her out of a benefit thing they had both attended.

Instead she brushed a strand of neatly waved hair behind her ear; which showed off the large emerald earrings she'd picked with care to showcase against the black dress for dinner. "Bruce, so kind of you to remember. I'm doing quite well now. If you wish, it seems we have two seats open at our table, if you and Ms. Guthrie would want to join us?" Green eyes fringed with black glanced up to him. It took a split-second for her to refrain from her normal behavior; and instead of continuing the flirtation she would have followed, she instead smiled, a demure curl of her lips that spoke more than she spoke with her lips.

"Neither of would mind, would we?" She queried her date, her smile on full force at the tall man, who shook his head and stood to pull out a chair beside him for Ms. Guthrie.

"We do insist, Bruce, but also understand if you have your own plans for the evening."

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"Bruce, so kind of you to remember. I'm doing quite well now."

The demure curl of her lips was a tell. He'd never make that mistake, but then most men were distracted by the curve of a lip. More fell victim to the ruse when those lips belonged to a beautiful woman like Selina Kyle, [color#4365a2]"Glad to hear it, Miss Kyle."[/color] He could have called her by her first name, but then they were in mixed company. Instead he nearly allowed more life to enter his eyes than it normally did. He was very close to amusement now, though he was choosing to ignore the twinge of jealousy he'd felt when he'd seen her with the other man. So much for immunity to beautiful women. They were a danger in their own right, no matter what you'd actually gotten to know of them. Her green eyes were well-suited to the street light coming in through the window and intermingling from within. It would be easy to fall prey to this woman.

"If you wish, it seems we have two seats open at our table, if you and Ms. Guthrie would want to join us?"

"If you insist," he replied casually though there was an edge to his voice. There was always an edge to his voice. He took immediate advantage of the vacated seat beside Selina to take command of her former date's seat. He ignored the surprised huff from the man as Guthrie sat. The bottled blond was hardly subtle, or as graceful as she could have been.

"We do insist, Bruce, but also understand if you have your own plans for the evening."

Wayne ignored the other man, instead allowing his own date to giggle and toss away, "Oh, we'll be boy girl, how cute!" Bruce offered Selina a smug, if not completely satisfied, smile, [color#4365a2]"Plans can always change. Can't they?"[/color] He'd not blame Selina for dumping her date here and leaving with him. It wouldn't be the first time Bruce Wayne had absconded with another man's date. Likely would not be the last, either.

A waiter approached, recognizing Mister Wayne and immediately changing his tune. He'd been prepared to suggest that Bruce and Guthrie adjourn to their own reserved table but now he was conciliatory, "Mister Wayne, I presume you won't be in need of your reserved table?"

Bruce glanced toward Selina, not taking his eyes off her's, for the moment, "No. I won't. Just think, this frees you up to squeeze someone else in. Make me some more money." Yes, he'd bought the restaurant once he'd discovered that Kyle came here. Alfred was already learning to prepare the items she typically ordered from her three favorite restaurants. A man could never be completely prepared.

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The act. The banter. She loathed it, but her hand was forced as he took her up on her offer. And with so many sets of observing eyes she had to let the smile creep onto her lips as her date for the evening, Alec Morganson stood stoically and helped Ms. Guthrie to sit. The tall sturdy built man nearly rivaled Bruce in physique in stature but there was a quietness to him akin to a cat in the blond man.

As Guthrie twittered and beamed, Selina turned a kind smile to the vapid woman. "That we will, dear." She'd never outright patronize the girl but the elation at being seated not only with Bruce Wayne at, as it appeared to be his restaurant, but with Selina Kyle as well seemed to cause her to spin into a near-giddy twitterpation. Ah, to be of the vapid, unassuming youth one more.

Not that she'd much had that luxury. But one could dream. And dream she would. Especially sine it had been time since her own path has crossed Wayne's. At least in this capacity. So as the waiter approached, Selina ordered a fine bottle of wine to supplement the one already at the table, a knowing smile passing between her and Alec; the man's blue eyes hiding suppressed mirth at the situation.

Raising her own glass she shifted slightly in her seat to take in him, considering their vicinity and her vantage point. He'd dressed well tonight, but not to the point of Gala or benefit standards. She had chosen a black dress, simple fare for her considering her color preferences and favorites. Her hair was gathered loosely in wayward curls at the nape of her neck, simple drop earrings of emerald hanging from her lobes. A simple trio of diamond emerald and hammered silver were on her wrist, a jeweled ring on her right hand.

Sipping her wine she smiled slowly, the gesture quietly blossoming on her lips first, before the expression filtered into her eyes. It was something that hinted, or even echoed at their more nocturnal proclivities, yet was restrained. Those were times for the two of them. Now was a time for theatrics for the masses in such a public arena that would be rapt as what the so-called Prince and Princess of Gotham would do next. Especially considering neither had been forthright in denying or giving credit to the nature of, well, anything pertaining to their interactions despite rather public sightings at specific events. Let them wonder. There was precious few things she held dear, and her private life was one of them.

"What would you suggest for an entree, Bruce? Alec and I had ordered something to start, but considering this is your own, what do you prefer?" She'd demure, knowing quite well that owning, and indulging were two vastly different endeavors. Gently setting her glass down she apppered shocked. To the trained eye they would notice her feigning the emotion. A hand pressed to her chest she apologized profusely for not introducing the two pairs. "Bettie Guthrie, this is Alec Morganson. Bruce Wayne, Alec, Alec, Bruce. Bettie, you're familiar with Bruce, and myself. Do forgive me this oversight!"