For the Benefit of Mr Wayne [Open]

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This was a scene Alfred found himself frequently. Like an understudy who researched his lines like a monk dedicated his life to religious tombs, he thanked everyone for being able to gather here tonight. He remarked the bravery of young and old woman alike wearing dresses even in the increasing chill of fall. This received a polite trill of laughter thorough the enormous and completely packed gala room. He apologized for Master Bruce's absents and informed them that he wished he could be here; in dreary rainy Gotham with his beloved colleagues and friends instead of a beach in the Bahamas with twins with expertise in masseusing. Another canned laughter filled the room. He thanked them all for coming again, and the award Bruce received. He bid them all to enjoy the evening.  

The room was filled with polite clapping, which under the normal circumstances wouldn't have been able to muffle the clear thank you he said into the microphone but the crowd of who's who in Gotham was so large even the half-hearted clapping was comparable to a thunderous applause in a humble theatre. He stepped out of the spotlight, stepped down from the erected stage and returned to his seat. No longer an actor but a member of the audience once again.

Alfred could feel how cold the statue was even though his gloves. He placed the statute on the table and began an earnest sounding conversation with a Wayne Enterprise employee. While it sounded earnest, his mind was else where. The benefit dinner was scheduled to last for several more hours but even with a hard end time the crowd was likely to stay until dawn, stumbling out into the relatively sate streets for Gotham's standards in a drunken stupor.

Money spoke, unfortunately, when it came to safety.

Alfred had absolutely no plans to stay that long. He wanted to slip out when he was certain reporters were too drunk to notice his early departure. It wasn't unusual for Master Bruce to be absent at one of these night uppercrust affairs, but it would look bad if Alfred didn't put up a good front for Bruce.

The meals had been ate and the champagne was pouring into the tall flute glasses the moment they became close to empty as though the work staff's goal was to get everyone inebriated as possible. His table guests suggested they start to mingle and Alfred agreed, reluctantly though no one at his table would be able to tell.

He was metaphorically pulled and yank to an fro from one group to the other; loudly chattering about something or other he just barely feigned about to care. He was doing his best to mask how grievously he wanted to get out of there. As he was ushered from circle of socialite to circle of socialite he would glance out into the crowd of guests, begging someone, anyone, to pick up on his subtle ques of help out of this cycle.

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Apart of the Commissioner appreciated these black tie events, partly because Wayne always had the best alcohol, and partly because it gave him an excuse to get out of the office. Being tipsy from the champagne, and no specific date hanging from his arm, James was tired of the company he was with and just wanted to see if anyone had a cigar he could share with outside. When a talking in a crowd you barely get the chance to say a word, and when people only asked questions to him it was only out of politeness.

The butler. He seemed to be tiring from the constant commotion by the drunken rich, even in his state of mind, Gordon was sharp, keen on the little details. Maybe he could use a break, Wayne's guests didn't seem to have trouble finding more alcohol. He walked up to him, tapping the butler on the shoulder.

"Alfred, right?" He asked putting his drink down on a nearby table. "I know Mr. Wayne isn't here tonight, but you gotta know where he keeps his cigars."

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"Oh, thank goodness," Alfred said in a relieved sigh after turning his body to see who tapped his shoulder and then added masterfully in an even voice, "That you made it, Commissioner."
 
He turned back to the upper crust circumference of chatter and gave them a polite wave as he apologizes, most of them too drunk to appreciated and the rest so drunk that they begged him to stay. Alfred ignored the inebriated pleas and pealed away from the group, the relief hardly concealed on his aged face.
 
"Yes, Alfred is correct. And you are a man who truly needs no introduction, Commissioner Gordon, if I may," Once he was facing the other man, the butler smoothly took from some hidden pocket under his lapel a silver cigar case and popped it open.

"I always come prepared to these things," He warbled, leaning forward slightly offering the open cigar case to the man in front of him. The cigars were, naturally, the best money could legally buy which was strange for a man with Master Bruce's reputation. Party boys with beach houses on every coastal country oft didn't care about things like legality of cigars. But it could be believed that Alfred did.

"Shall we?" He gestured with a nod to the closest exit.

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Gordon didn't even want to question just how much the thick black cigar cost, though he imagined every drag and puff would cost more than rolling up a few hundreds into a cigar and just smoking that instead. "Thanks, Alfred." The Commissioner smiled and plucked a cigar from the silver tin, taking a small whiff of the rich scent. "Promised my daughter I'd give up cigarettes, so I switched to a pipe. Guess I can't really stay away forever." He said more to himself, slightly dizzy from the alcohol.

He meandered himself towards the exit that Alfred was leading to, admittedly eager to have a decent cigar. "You enjoy this life, Alfred? Not that being a butler isn't a great gig, but Mr. Wayne is very eccentric." James said, remembering the first time he met him only a few months after his transfer to Gotham. He just remembered his wife complaining to him afterwards that he wasn't wearing any briefs under his robe.

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Alfred tried to maintain polite eye contact with the Commissioner but his thoughts were elsewhere, namely the door. The portal to the outdoors. The older man glanced back and forth between the door and Gordon like he was watching a tennis match. 
 
"But of course," It was his pleasure to provide the razzle dazzle that came from working for someone who was as rich as Master Bruce, although that was a thought he wouldn't have had in his younger years, "I think we can all afford to indulge in simple pleasures of life," And then added in a stern tone, the kind he would use with Bruce when he needed to be reminded of his limitations, "With in moderation."
 
And with that, Alfred beat a hurried path out as though a socialite would come at him like a lamprey eel and suck him back into the drunken party. He held the door open for the other man, the cool fall night air rushing in like releasing a seal on a vacuum, waiting patiently for him to walk past. He admired how at ease Gordon was in this scene. To Alfred, Gordon felt out of place in this high gloss and glamorous scene. The streets did suit him better, Alfred thought, Just like it suited Master Bruce. The two men were very similar in many ways.

"Commissioner," He started, his next words steeped in great pride," I could not beg, borrow or steal a better life than the one I have now." Once the other man had stepped out into the night, he let the door close behind them, "But it is true; working with Master Bruce is certainly never dull."

Boy, was that an understatement of a life time. 

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The night was cool, and he took it in. He leaned on some railing the cigar dangling between his index and middle, he exhaled, watching the ghost disappear. The Commissioner nodded his head in agreement to Pennyworth's answer. "I wish we could switch jobs." He said pulling out a box of matches, "Lord knows I see too much action in my field of work." Cupping his hands over the cigar after striking the match to burn the tip. It took him some time but he eventually lit the cigar and tossed the match over the edge of the railing. 

"I worry about the city sometimes." James said, "Think it's too much for one man to handle. I mean, I guess at times I'm thankful for the Batman, and Mr. Wayne for always supporting Gotham's finest, but I guess it feels like the weight will never be lifted. Which is why, I guess these black tie events are good for me... gets me away from my job every now and then." He felt like he was rambling, justifiable, but at least he didn't feel the need to fill the silence.

"Do you smoke?" 

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Alfred followed the Commissioner out to the railing but did not lean against it. He stood straight, facing out to the streets, with his arms behind his back. He held his wrist with his other hand, in a relaxed way, well relaxed for Alfred anyway, undoubtedly it would not look like a relaxing pose to anyone who did not know the butler's mannerisms well.

It was a lovely brisk night out, as far as Gotham nights go. He hoped the gardeners he unfortunately had to hire would remember to cover the outdoor plants.
It would be time to replace them soon with some nice evergreens for the winter season.

Alfred gave a half smile in the direction of the other man. If only the Commissioner knew how similar their jobs really were. The butler watched him light the cigar, he thought about offering to light it for him Alfred felt that Gordon was the kind of person who enjoyed lighting his own things. He cast his gaze out to the street, listening to the other man speak. Enjoying the silence between what he was saying. Enjoying simply being out of that crowded room of strutting peacocks.
 
As if on cue, police sirens echoed somewhere in the distance as Gordon spoke his mind about the city the two men called home.

"I have lived here for many years, Commissioner, I remember a time when the police force was feared, if not more feared, than the gangs that claimed the streets as their own. Late Master Wayne believed that one day, someone would come and clean the corruption up. Clean the city up and make it whole. And while I don't condone the actions of The Batman, you and him....Have given this city hope."

Alfred looked up to the sky, the stars were obstructed by a billowing cloud cover and the city lights, "Its certainly too much for one man alone." He was speaking of both Master Bruce and Gordon. Every night he came home a little worse for wear was like an injury Alfred himself bore. He returned his gaze to the cold city street, "You should never be afraid to ask for help."

He breathed out through his nose sharply. Black tie events he wasn't in charge of stirred all kinds of anxiousness in Alfred,"I wish I could share your sentiment about them. That said, I do understand."

He held a hand up, as though to say he declined, "I gave it up years ago, I'm afraid." Along with 50 or so pounds and every other bad habit he had accumulated while Master Bruce was away on his life affirming self discovery journey. The weight loss was primarily vanity but everything else was essential in order to keep up with Master Bruce; in order to keep up with Batman.

"If I may, I would not insult you to ask you if you ever thought about just leaving. Gotham...is your home, as it is mine. If either of us left, I doubt our consciousness could rest well?" The older man seemed to be thinking out loud before he turned to look at Gordon, "But a man at your age, with your credentials, certainly could get whatever desk job you wanted. But, I doubt..." He trailed off, he couldn't imagine a man like Gordon enjoying a stationary life like that.