Redeeming Qualities [Selina]

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Green eyes looked down to his silver Rolex. Then down to the angry candy crush app on his phone. He was anxious about this meeting. He sat back in the chair and let his knee bounce up and down as the thick heal of his brown quarter boot smacked into the concrete of the small porch dining area of Le Metro Diner. He was down to just drinking just water. He felt like a recovering alcoholic. But he hadn’t felt like drinking anything but water since his time in Africa. He looked around his surroundings, running his hand through his thick red mane. Hair was curling behind his ears and around his neck line. But the thought of getting a trim didn’t occur to him. He was some want of a changed man. Material things mattered less to him, and intentions mattered the most.

The breeze of the late afternoon whipped along the street and he closed his eyes. Maybe this was a bad idea. It had been too long, and it was not as if either of them really had much to say to one another. He then looked at his phone again. The logs of their conversations reminded him that redemption was a possibility for someone who was actively trying to find it. He let out a sigh and adjusted the jacket around himself. His jeans felt confining after spending most of his time naked or near enough in Africa. Well at least his costume afforded him something less constrictive and confining. He rechecked the knot on his tie, remembering the little rhyme his mother taught him. The rabbit hops over the log, the rabbit crawls under the log, the rabbit runs around the log, one more time—because the rabbit is trying to outsmart the fox, and the rabbit dives into his rabbit hole. He loved his mother, and now the memories of her and her misfortune were his ruin. He hoped, deep down, that there was some sort of justice for her. He did what he thought was right then. What his father had taught him was right, but as the years progressed, that was when he realized that was the first scar on his soul.

His ears picked up the sounds around him, and his tracker senses tried to focus on those of just what he could imagine as being female footsteps. But Selina had informed him that her two-step wasn’t up to snuff, yet. He fidgeted with his blue shirt collar. Still feeling the anxiety in himself. He felt like he needed to hunt to get this energy out of himself. He could do something tonight, maybe he’d get a chance to run into Huntress. No. Not yet. He wanted to prove to her that he had changed. He wasn’t ready for Helena to see him. As he sat there thinking all of this over, he realized he wasn’t ready for a lot. Why’d he even come back to Gotham? He sighed and sat back into the chair, the legs of it scraping along the concrete making a sound that did not help his nerves. “I’m a moron.” Thomas made to stand up, but stood stark still as he felt that familiar feeling of eyes judging him.

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Had she been happy about the phone-calls and texts rolling to her phone? No. Had she been curious? Always. So when she'd furiously texted back and forth for the better of three days, she'd finally agreed to meet him. Public, of course. And she hadn't bothered with dressing too fancy, not caring to shove her legs and foot through pants. So it was a mid-length wrap dress she'd picked, thick tights, and a heeled boot. She'd accidentally realized that a heel helped her with keeping her 'walking' boot from walking more than she should. Her dress was a rich charcoal, the jacket a lovely shade of indigo verging on violet as she spotted the mop of red hair on someone she wouldn't quite call a 'friend.' Ugh. She rolled her eyes, pausing the twenty or so feet that kept her from where he was. She wasn't stupid. And neither was he. So with an extra spritz of perfume she'd taken care to use earlier, she knew he'd 'spot' her before she was aware of it.

And there she was, correct again as Thomas Blake was already standing when she crutched her way to the other vacant seat at his table. She wasn't judging him, per se, but she was certainly curious. For a man that held a shared alter-ego moniker, he'd done her wrong, and not with her willing participation more than once. And the Thomas Blake she knew was a misogynist pig.

...not the man that stood before her looking repentant. Her own vivid green eyes took him in from head of red hair that was in dire need of a styling or trim, to his fancy shirt and tie, his jacket, slacks and boots. Men and their footwear. Some nailed it, others just gave themselves away. His time in Africa had done him well, at least. So when she closed the several feet to approach him for a hug, she could already feel the tension in the air as she stopped, finally, a few inches from him, their respective outerwear touching.

"Thomas, I'm clean. Even though you know I could still injure you with crutches, just hug me and put your mind at ease, ok? Then we can sit, eat, and go from there." She'd murmur, a brow arching. He was taller than her own 5'8" frame, and built like a favorite man of hers, so she looked up, unwavering green eyes meeting skeptical ones. It was the least she could do, and she meant it, considering she wasn't going to let go of her crutches until she was embraced. It was logistics. She'd fall without support. And a fail-safe, as he couldn't shiv her, or snap anything when her full weight was in his arms.

Either way. She wasn't judging him, but more putting herself forward. If he wanted to take her down at a weak point, he'd be judged for that. As a hunter himself, he'd rather take down someone healthy, considering he tracked. Or had. Whatever he was doing in Gotham at this time, dressed snappy was the real curiosity.

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Thomas stood and stared at Selina as she approached as she had exceeded his expectations. She was still breath taking, and still held composure better than he did. She approached his six foot frame, and looked up to him with her own green eyes. He made sure to meet her gaze and let her know he was fully here and listening. He had fully expected her to slap him and tell him to go screw himself. Instead she told him to hug her. He was confused by the gesture but he complied, wrapping his large arms around her, under her shoulders as he smiled slightly, being careful to not rub her face with his perpetual stubble. “Remember, you asked for this…” His voice was a slight growl as he spoke softly to her, but soon he released her, gently letting her support her weight against him and then pulling out a chair for her to take a seat.

He wasn’t acting at all the way he used to and that should show some sign that he was doing better. He let out a brief sigh and looked down to her as he moved to return to his seat. She was wearing perfume, something women didn’t need, but they felt the urge to use. He despised it, in the honest truth, preferring a natural scent, which he was more than willing to admit worked best in grabbing a man’s attention. Thomas didn’t wearing anything to mask his own scent on that same principle, but since he’d been back, he did find himself bathing much more often than he used to. Probably something to do with the feeling of being unclean in this city. It had a layer of filth that permeated through even the toughest armor. He smiled at Selina politely and once she was settled in her chair, he moved back to his own, making sure to pick up her crutches and set them within her reach before seating himself. “Thanks, Selina. Thank you for meeting with me. You could have ignored me and well, I wouldn’t blame you for that.”

He almost felt like a recovering alcoholic with his little speech but he was recovering from a lifetime of bad decisions and he didn’t have any other substance to blame for his actions. “I’m wanting to redeem myself. I suppose that’s why I came back.” He took a sip of his water and nodded as he listened to himself. “I know I apologized in the emails, and texts and phone calls, but I want to say it again, now that we’re here face to face…” He looked down to her legs, just letting his eyes wander to the injury and noting them before he continued. “I’m sorry for the momentously giant ass I used to be.” He made a small gesture with his hand down to her injury and lifted a curious ginger eyebrow as he continued. “Now, I know we’re supposed to always land on our feet, but, you seemed to be carrying a lot of load when you did that.” Humor, wasn’t always his strong point, and he knew he would probably get a glare for the comment. But he smiled at her, giving her a soft and friendly smile as he continued.

A waitress stopped by, topping off the glass Tom had been drinking from. She looked over to Selina with a bright, but defeated smile as she spoke. “Welcome to Le Metro, our soup today is beer and bacon cheese served in a sourdough bowl. And our monthly beer is the Black Bat Dark Ale from a local microbrewery. Can I get something to drink to start off your meal?” She stood there a few moments waiting for the dark haired woman to answer her, while ever so subtly shifting her dark eyes to the good looking mop of red hair that was ignoring her.

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She had to smile. He was not one of her favorite people. Not even on the waiting list. But considering he had been incessant in his reaching out to her, something just said to give him a chance. Even after his past hi-jinx of framing her, and blaming some of his own endeavors of bullshit on her, even taking part of her own masked name for his own, to say the least, they weren't always on the best of terms. But she had to admit there was something different about him. He'd reclaimed some of his soul, she'd say. A bit of humanity. Then again, any person, be it man or woman that aligned themselves with the feline was never truly human. The cat would always come through. Always.

So as they embrace, she's mildly shocked, and muchly impressed with how he's treating her. Handling her delicately as she hugs him, and shows her own trust; by him supporting her without her crutches, and her giving up them in return. He's even kind enough to keep from roughing up her face. "Mmm." Is all she states in return, a lighter feline response to his more throaty growl. It's a language they both intrinsically speak, and understand. And she honestly can't help but smirk at that. Meow.

As they coordinate her release, her shifting back to her crutches, and him pulling out her chair, she has to say first impressions are speaking volumes, and she's almost, but not quite off-kilter about the whole thing. He's a changed man, and even uncomfortable if anything in his street clothing. She can tell by his shifting, and the tugging at his tie. But he's anxious and she doesn't want to perpetuate that. But he's known her long enough to know when she's prowling, playing, or being honest. Or at least she'd like to think so, considering their history. As he sits, she catches the slight disgust on his face. Shit. She'd forgotten how he was with smell. Tracking, and so forth. And while she should have, and could have gone without, it's just a staple in her daily life that she'd done it automatically.

"I could have, Thomas. And you know it. But when you want to, you're damn persistent, and a tiny bit charming. I had to run an IP check to make sure it was actually you, because I honestly couldn't believe that you, of all people, would be saying such nice things, considering." She nods her thanks to him about shifting her crutches, and lets out a faint laugh.

"The Blake I knew, would never have given me that consideration. Selina's on crutches? Bitch can do her own thing. I appreciate the forethought, though. And it's nice to catch up. Even in Gotham." Setting her purse on the table, she shifts in her chair a slight bit. She can't fault him for his location. Open air, clear vantage points. He's honestly here for something personal, it seems. And while his next coupling of actions and words could have been seen as lewd, she understands. His actions are doing more than a simple 'I'm sorry' ever could. Whatever he did, whatever transformative healing he did had really taken root.

"You did apologize. Many times," she states softly. She's not going to be a bitch about the whole thing, especially when he's trying so hard. Reaching across the table she presses her fingers to his hand for a moment. "Thank you. Take this as a face-to-face apology accepted. And while I'm a forgiving sort, it may take a bit of a while to trust you again. You were a colossal asshole. Across the board. Thankfully I have friends who were able to erase a few blunders I took the blame for." She snorts, a twinkle in her eye and a smirk on her face as he mentions her foot.

"Re-injury, if you can believe it. Running up four flights of stairs can wreck something almost healed. Blame this one on the Joker, if you can believe it. He's behind bars at least, and I'm ...trying to follow Doctor's orders this time. Even if it is limiting play time, and you know how that goes." Withdrawing her hand, she returns his smile, and glances up to the waitress. The woman has a glass of water for her as well, and an interesting cadence to her voice.

As she takes in the specials, she can't help but meet Thomas' eyes over the ale name. Oh Gotham, you and your puns. "If you have Macallan 12 year, I'll take that, neat with a Coke back. If not, just the Coke." She recites with ease. She'll take her time with ordering actual food, but it's been one of those sort of days.

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“You can put this on my tab.” He looked up at the waitress and thanked her softly after she nodded her acknowledgement. He was feeling a slight swell of embarrassment as Selina was complimenting his improvement. His eyes brightened a the inward joke of the ale. Only in this town. He tried not to fidget much as she spoke. He was regretful for his actions to an extent, but still, there was a sort of exhilaration in him as he recalled his thieving ways. He too missed the night time prowling, and even though his old files had been expunged, thanks to a few family friends and some green backs, he pinned a little for those days. Days when he didn’t care so much.

“I’m glad I didn’t ruin your reputation too much then, Selina. And, again, thank you.” Thomas smiled gently at Selina and nodded along, attempting to conceal the shock of her fingers touching his hand. “And people wonder why clowns don’t do well in Gotham.” He offered his own sick joke in return and shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that, though. However, it’s been my experience that things seem to happen for a reason and perhaps this was just a way to get you sit down and drink in the world for a moment. I’ve just never been one to settle in, myself. But, maybe you should keep yourself out of the night time job for a while to make sure you heal better. You never know, you may enjoy the quiet life” He averted his eyes, bashfully and took a sip from his glass as he looked out into the street. “Yes…Well…Things tend to happen for a reason…” he reiterated as his voice was in a low purr, but even if she wasn’t a world class tracker as he was, she could easily pick up his words.

He let out an appreciative chuckle and shook his head. “I wish I could say this”, he made a motion to himself and swept his hand to his red mane, though he was more indicating his mental status, “…was all my own doing.” He paused and nodded slightly as he pondered how best to explain upon things further and then took a breath as he continued. “There were catalysts.” He stopped and smirked for a moment. “No pun intended.” He chortled slightly and pushed back some of his hair from his face as he continued on. “I hit bottom, rock bottom…maybe even below the rock. Then I tried to kill myself. And I was apparently too much of a loser to do even that.”

He took another sip from his water before continuing, avoiding her kind green eyes as he looked out into the street. “I decided to go to Africa. I had a few fond memories of it from my childhood, and I was always at my best when I was hunting. I ended up living with a pride of lions.” He touched his jacket over his chest gently as he looked down, speaking softly. “It helped change me. But…Sometime after that, I met a woman. She almost reminded me of you. Huntress.” He didn't expect any reaction from the name he'd given, but he was feeling in a sharing mood. Like this was some sort of Idiots Anonymous meeting. He let that be the most he would speak of Huntress for the moment. He wasn’t certain if Selina or Catwoman would know the woman personally, but he wasn’t ready to reveal himself to her. Not until he was certain. And he didn’t want to gush entirely too much about her, as they’d really only met a handful of times. “Something about this city seems to produce broken children who think they have to fight claw and tooth to make it better or worse.”

The waitress returned with Selina’s order, silencing him for a moment, a tumbler of soda with a small amount of ice and a lime on the side of it with a thin black and red straw protruding from the glass and another tumbler with the scotch waiting inside of it. “Macallan 12 year with a coke back, Miss. Anything else or would you like some time still?” She stood there with her fake smile and Thomas couldn’t stop himself from being a bit of man as he looked up to her and spoke for himself and Selina without thinking. “I think we’d like some more time to decide, please.” Her dark eyes shifted to him and he could almost feel the annoyance coming off of her. “Okay, no problem. My name is Wendy if you need anything.” He waited politely for another moment and then smiled at Selina once again. “I’m just trying to get myself back together, I suppose. Apparently there’s something good in me, but there’s always going to be something in me that doesn’t want to do that good.” He felt as he was being too pessimistic as he waxed philosophical about himself. He hadn’t really shared any of these feelings with anyone else if he was being honest. But he knew Selina would understand him. And, as he readily admitted, he wasn’t ready to share them with Huntress. “I’m having a hard time figuring out what to do with myself. I don’t know if you can offer an advice to someone worth a few eight figures, and lives in a slum apartment.” He chuckled to himself as he shook his head. “I just can’t picture myself returning to the old homestead. My father’s ghost is probably haunting it complaining that I’m still not enough of a man.”

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If anything, the duo was showing a side neither had seen before. And maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't burned her years before, or been an asshole, or hadn't mentioned Helena's name, or any numerous other things, she could have seen Thomas in a certain light. Maybe even a romantic one. But the cards had been dealt, and the awkward, near shy, repentant man before her was a bit too timid for her liking. Nodding to his taking on her drink on his tab, she smiled at both him, and the waitress. Neither really had a mind for food, but it would come up, no doubt. Otherwise Wendy wouldn't be leaving them alone for a while.

"Clowns, or men in green, or any other multitude of stupid themes. At least you picked a good one, you know." A damn good one. How could you fault a cat? And as horrible as he'd been, she couldn't blame him for understanding the feline's true nature. "Thank you, though. And sadly, life hasn't settled much for me. Luthor's in town, and for some reason, picked myself over Wayne to spearhead a project overhauling both the Asylum, and Blackgate, security wise. I don't know if the news of the project reached to where you have been, but it's got the name Metropham." She scrunched her nose up at the name, slightly, before reaching to her purse. Wendy was on the horizon, and what better way to enjoy a good glass of Scotch than with a cigarette.

"So, I've had my share of hobbling around both facilities, meetings, and so forth." Waving the business aspect away quite literally with her hand, she withdrew the silver monogrammed zippo and near-matching cigarette case, popping it open with her thumb and offering to him before taking one herself and lighting up. "But I have had some time to myself, which is nice. But nothing takes the edge off a shitty day like running the rooftops in tight leather." A sly glint shines in her eye as she recalls one of her favorite past-times. "We have that in common. Never settling down. Not for too long, at least. I can remember in University, over in Europe, I thought I'd never return to Gotham. But something about her just never leaves your system, and doesn't let you stray for too long, either." As he mentioned the quiet life, she too went still for a moment. Could she ever enjoy the mundaneness of a day-to-day 9-5? While her own work didn't quite allow for that, could she see herself a wife, a mother, working, and turning her back entirely on her nocturnal proclivities?

Now that was a question. A riddle, Eddie would even say. And to that, even with her moment of contemplation, brought about a shake of her head. She could probably minimize her efforts, but never cut them off entirely. She was too deeply woven into the system in more ways than one to just cut off ties. She was too valuable as a resource to others as well. "I don't think the quiet life is for me, Thomas. But time to time, I really, really contemplate it." She adds quietly, her own voice a low murmur. They spoke in growl and purr, in whisper and yawn like second nature. One could even surmise they had been a couple with their interactions. If they were stupid, that is.

As their conversation turned a bit more introspective, and contemplative, she understood all too well what he'd been through. While she hadn't gone to the lengths he had, she had been a wreck about eight-ish years back after her divorce. She'd had her things shipped to her apartment in Gotham, and crashed on a couch for several weeks, a dour mess. While suicide hadn't factored in, she was still emphatic to the base emotions and how trying that time in one's life could be. As she listened, she'd ash her cigarette in the tray, and nod now and again. "Africa. Now that is a place to go for some healing with the best of company." Lions. She was impressed. And slightly envious to boot. She could agree he was at his best while hunting, or tracking. She was better at stealth. His gesture across his chest spoke more than he was letting on. She could bet if she asked, there would be an impressive mark across his chest. She had marked two men in a similar fashion with her own claws. The respective wounds had healed, despite the deep punctures. She was still slightly proud of that.

Flicking her cigarette, her eyes met his when he mentioned Huntress as a slow smile blossomed on her lips. Oh Huntress. She'd taken the woman under her wing, paw, whatever; in a way. "I've shared some advice with her over the years. She's a good woman. I'll take that as a compliment. She certainly has picked the right colors for her getup." She added quietly, hearing the hope, and hurt intermingling with hesitance in his voice as spoke of the younger woman.

"Irish, Italian, those sort of women have attitudes that can't beat," she teases, pausing when Wendy returns with her drink. She closes her eyes and lets out an appreciative sigh as she sees the drink poured and brought over properly. "Thanks, hon. Nice to see an establishment that can follow a request." She'll have to tip well, just for this. And she's quite thankful Thomas speaks up and buys them a bit more time to chat. Even if Wendy's not too happy about them wasting a table of theirs. Setting down her Macallan, and pulling a Benjamin from her purse, she offers it to the woman between forefinger and middle. Green eyes go to the waitress' and a warm smile is on her face. "How about you take this, and we'll let you know when we're ready to order. You just keep those big ol' baby blues of your's on Thomas, and he'll cue you in, Wendy..." Selina says, watching the woman pluck the money from her hand and walk off. It's a nicer way to buy them both some time, harassment free, instead of telling Wendy to straight up Fuck off. Money and a smile speaks a nicer language and gets less phlegm in your food.

"Gotham produces the best, and worst in all of us, Thomas. And before you go after the girl, get yourself as right as you can. You wouldn't be doing what you do, if you were pure evil. You'd be fighting for the other side, tooth and claw. Personally, I don't like either side too much, and take my fun where I can. So take pride in the fact you walk the fence, and hold your head high. At least you know of another friend that does the same, and wrestles with that decision daily." Cigarette poised between her fingers she takes a sip of her Scotch and savors it. There is no harder war to fight than with oneself. It's worse than bickering with the world, or other people, because you can't just run from your own psyche.

"And trust me, working on one side or the other isn't great. You always have to deny yourself something. So take it as it comes. And speaking of work, you have any time you could devote to a project?" Setting down her drink she reaches into her purse again, withdrawing a card, and a pen as she scrawls another number on her Black Cat Securities card and slips it across the table to him.

"I have more than advice, if you want it. I need a tail, and I need to see if any information can be dug up on a potential hit that might occur." She watches him look it over before continuing.

"I have an apartment, furnished, if you're wanting a change of scenery. But don't return home if you don't want to. There is a reason I don't go see my childhood home. Too many things get brought up you don't want. And hell, if you motioning here-" she points along her chest, "Is what I think it is, you're man enough to not have to prove it any more. But if you want to be paid for a contracting job, we'll need to have a follow-up at my office. And I can get you set up with an apartment, or any other equipment you need. Just get a list to me." She's dead serious, and wouldn't be offering a lifeline if she didn't believe in the man. Part of her wants to see another decent person back on the streets with no loyalties to either side. Part of her wants to believe in him that he's changed. Another part of her strongly has faith that there is a partner for everyone, no matter what side of the coin you choose, and likes to believe in love. Especially if you're trying to make things right with people you've wronged. Especially then. A man should always get the girl when he's trying this hard to redeem himself. And the romantic in her that can't make up her mind likes to see others happy.

"You, of all people, should know a cat always lands on it's feet, Thomas." She purrs, raising her glass to him. "I'm going to want to see that scar you're not telling me about sometime, too."

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When Selina lit her cigarette, he didn’t flinch. He was used to the smell, and he did admit inwardly that the scent of her brand reminded him of his mother. However, he wouldn’t dare say that out loud, not in present company, if perhaps ever. He could only offer the woman a kind smile, almost bemused by this turn of event. Though, he suspected it was because they were more cat like in nature, and cats were fickle beasts. Loyal to their pride, family, whatever you wanted to call it. He didn’t react much as she spoke, though he did offer her a polite nod or two. She seemed as if she genuinely gave a damn about what happened to Thomas at this moment in his life and he sort of needed someone else to give a damn about him.

Then she offered him an apartment, away from the slum he’d been calling home since he returned to Gotham. He wasn’t entirely certain on how he should react. He was of course grateful for the offer to have a genuine job instead of what he had been doing, which happened to be nothing, for those keeping score at home. Thomas stretched his arms over his head as he made a slight chuckles with his smile as she mentioned with certainty that she would see his battle wound. “Selina, I know you’re very used to getting what you want, but only on my terms will you get this.” That was just a little bit of his old self shining through but no enough to threaten anyone. He would offer a friendly smile and shook his head at her beguiling eyes.

He took a sip from his glass of water, looking back out into the street as he let her work on her cigarette. He wasn’t being rude, at least to his knowledge, but more as if he were contemplating the offer over in head. He could easily do as she asked. Tailing a person wasn’t difficult, and Selina knew that. Giving him such an easy task was either about seeing if she could trust him, or there was something more to this. He turned his attention back to the table, reaching his hand across the table and smoothly taking her card from her hand. “As far as the apartment goes, I’ll keep it, but I won’t live in it. I’ll need a safe place, but I feel like I need to stay in the East End.” Someone has to. He almost continued on with the sentiment but he felt she would understand.

She had a fair point about working both sides but he would have to finely walk that fence and he wasn’t entirely certain that he could. He knew he could be a mercenary with a code, but could he look Huntress in the eyes and tell her that the grey is where he belongs? Was he certain she’d be okay with that? Was her approval really why he was doing this, or was there something more to his new found mission in life? These question kept him awake at night, and sometimes the person in the bathroom in the apartment next to his. Maybe he would take Selina up on that apartment. Once more he took a sip from his water, ice clinking about in the glass as he returned it to the table surface. He once again looked to Selina, green eyes glinting as he smirked in his own, somewhat smarmy manner. “But how fortunate you need me for the one thing I’m good at.”

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"Then it sounds like a good thing I've learned how to compromise, no? State your terms, and we'll go from there." And not only had she learned how to compromise, but she had learned how to better negotiate, even. Ashing her cigarette now and again she was polite in her filthy habit, but unable to let the decent day go without indulging. Especially considering they were seated outdoors as well. Such a perfect mix of fresh, and tobacco laden air. Delectable, and made the whole experience even better in her opinion.

As he was quiet, he was saying as much as if he were spewing words. He was nervous. Contemplative. He appreciated her offer, but was insulted in the same way, as he thought himself a changed man. A cat with new stripes, having traded in his spots. But he was still a cat, still a feline. Still a creature she knew all too well in action, and reaction. So she sipped her own drink, and puffed away, enjoying the quiet and her small indulgences. There was no point in ruining their welcomed silence.

If he were to question why she was so forgiving, she'd answer him in kind. The fact he had been insistent on meeting with her, even after several rebuffs meant something. He kept trying, continued to the point of polite near-harassment. She could admire than in a man. Especially one of his caliber of skill. If she'd continued to evade and avoid, he'd have found her eventually, and had his words.

This was much more civil in her mind. "Sounds fair to me. I'll have the keys sent your way. Unless you'd rather collect them in person?" A flick of her finger bumped a thin line of ash into the clear tray again as they spoke here and there. Winking at him, coy green eyes met mischief in kind as she shrugged in her seat, shifting.

"Can you honestly fault me for wanting the best? And if you want to get back into the thick of things, I'm probably an easier, more rationale way of doing it. We'll need to get you a tux, and I can assemble a file and get it sent to you. But this is more a personal favor, and involves a mutual 'friend' as well." She finally snubbed out her smoke and leaned forward slightly.

"Joker is involved, but he's not the focal point. I'd rather not divulge names here, but perhaps, later. After we eat. Little birds and all, you know." And who really spoke that freely in Gotham.

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He sat back in his chair, the red curl in front of his eyes bounced as he nodded to her. “Like I said, I just feel like I need to stay in the East End.” His hand reached up to push his hair back, only for it to fall back into place. “I only want to redeem myself…” He was going to say ‘for her’, but he stopped himself, and he knew she would understand what he meant by that. He didn’t know why but Huntress had become a driving force in his actions as of late. His obsession, was worrying to him, but maybe it truly was for the better.

He waited a moment and then looked to Selina once again as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll pick it up personally. I’d like to get a lay of the land for a while. It’s been too long since I’ve been in this town. Things have changed, but others have not.”

Thomas reached down and took another sip of his water and leaned forward as he sat it down, leaning again his elbows as he set them on the table. “I’ll be more than happy to handle this. I already own several tuxes, Selina. I did grow up in this high society after all, and old habits die hard.” He grinned at her and dropped a small, feminine watch on the table, it was simple metal, but obviously precious to the wearer of the trinket as it was well taken care. “As I’m sure you’ll agree. The games may have been elevated but the thrill is still the same, right?” He smirked and leaned back in his chair and looked over to Wendy for a quick moment, then returned his green eyes to Selina.

“And if the Joker is involved...” He paused and let out a sigh, “I’m all in. I hate that clown and his laugh.” He raised his hand signaling Wendy to return over to them and took another sip of his water before looking back to Selina. She was right about one thing, he was still the beast of a man, and the Joker was one of those guys he never tolerated. He had the good fortune to avoid being near him, but he had heard many stories about the clown and his deeds. And if he was involved in this job Selina wanted him to do, Thomas knew he’d need to put his full focus on this, and not allow himself to get distracted.

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"And I'd not be one to begrudge a Tom his needs, ever." She retorted, nearly laughing at his mane of hair. It was at that length where it was not quite unruly, but not quite kept, either. Just a bit of both, and not quite sure which side of the fence it dared stay on. When he mentioned redemption, she nodded. "Well, I wouldn't be here if I wasn't in the business of forgiveness," she crinkles her nose at the rhyme, before continuing. "And I can't exactly turn away one of my own, especially with your show of dedication, Blake." While he may be speaking of other, more deep reasons, she didn't need to hear him. Most talk of 'redemption' had to do with family, women, or some sort of life-changing revelation that touched on, yes, women, or family, or something close to the heart. And even though her alter-ego was a bit of a bitch, she was not always so.

"Do what you need. You know where my office is, and I'm at the same place at the park. Just check in with the front desk and all that. Or, you know my nocturnal schedule as well." She wasn't to finicky about him dropping by. "And you're quite correct. New folks have moved in, others have stayed, or just re-located. Tell me when, and where, and I'll have the keys at hand." She finally finished up her cigarette, gently snubbing out the cherry in the tray.

As the watch was deposited on the table, she had to laugh, shaking her head as she leaned forward slightly as well. He'd nicked it off their waitress. And without her noticing, as well! He was good. She'd forgotten about that skill of his. "Mm. I'm not remembering as well in my old age. Forgive me. And you might want to return that if you're not going to pawn it. She might miss it, and appreciate the prolonged contact with you," she teased. Of course her tux offer would be denied, but it was better to offer and be turned down, than to have to provide later.

"The thrill is still quite the same. And yes, he's still up to his standard bullshit. And I'm not quite ok with the rumors stating I'm going to be the apple of his eye next. He's already harmed a few of my friends, either intentionally, or not, and I don't plan to be another casualty." She went quiet as Wendy made her way to the table, as they were ready to order it seemed.