Key to My Hard Drive

[Susanna Gossamer]

Susie lifted her chin when Bruce sidled in towards her, lifting her hands easily to his shoulders as he slipped his around her waist, but it quickly dropped again in a demure expression as he kissed beneath her ear. A soft smile bloomed on her lips as a very soft blush dawned across her cheeks, an expression so honestly indulgent that it almost didn't matter what he said. His easy admonition of her apologetic tone was just icing on an already yummy cake.

"Well," she responded, her tone pleased. "That's good." She curved her face towards his, meeting his gaze with a coy look and mischievous grin. "'Cause I was only being nice," she explained with a coquettish tilt of the head. She let her arms slide up around his neck as her grin took stronger root. "I'd have been heartbroken if you'd left me here all alone."

"In fact," she suggested, letting her gaze drift away momentarily before snapping it right back. "Maybe you'd better hold me a bit closer, just so I know you aren't going anywhere." After all, they hadn't yet cleared the room with their public display. And anyway, he owned the joint; who in their right mind would complain?

[Bruce Wayne]

Any impropriety on his behalf was quickly stifled when he remembered that technically he was ‘Bruce Wayne’ at the moment – or at least he was as far as the public was concerned – and he decided that he could easily ham it up and get away with it in a heartbeat. It was the perfect excuse (not that he needed one, really) to add a bit of cheek to their relationship, and so long as Susie was doing the instigating, well. He was more than perfectly happy to carry it along. His grin lengthened into a smirk, and he closed the gap between them easily, kissing her in a distinctly inappropriate-for-public viewing way just to make his point before he flowed through with a series of smaller, teasing kisses along her jaw before he stopped at her ear.

“Luckily for you we’re in a very crowded room, Detective,” he told her softly. His arms tightened around her waist as he pulled her in closer to him, his muscles tensing around her with all the promise of the strength he displayed as Batman but hid beneath his preppy attire as Bruce Wayne. One of his hands skirted with danger along the upper swell of her backside; the old lady who had been watching could take no more of such a display and strode purposefully out of the lobby and into an elevator. He resisted the urge to laugh, but instead settled for letting his mirth colour his tone. “Because I’m sorely tempted to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere.”

[Susanna Gossamer]

She was hard-pressed not to giggle like a girlier, blonder relative of hers, but managed to reign herself into a decidedly devilish smirk of enjoyment. Bruce Wayne was the very embodiment of trouble, and she suddenly felt more compassionate to the dozens of thinner than her beautiful women who had graced his arms at so many public events in his lifetime. She had never considered that in addition to his good looks and gobs of money, there was actually an irresistible charmer behind his insufferable playboy disguise. She could see a touch of his counterfeit self in the real Bruce - he really didn't give a crap what anyone thought - but there was a bit of his other altar-ego as well - a strong-willed daredevil who wouldn't take no for an answer. She only hoped that, like his nocturnal self, he had the best of intentions during the daytime as well.

In the long run, that is. If he had less than angelic intentions in this moment, that was all well and good with her.

"That doesn't sound lucky to me," she teased, toying with his collar as she spoke softly against his earlobe. "But it's probably for the best. What would the headlines say if they found out you were dating someone whose IQ and waist size are higher than two?" Okay, that was probably unfair. The Russian ballerinas probably had a pretty high IQ... if you added them all together.

[Bruce Wayne]

Despite the needling at his ego Bruce laughed softly, briefly closing his eyes against the sensation of her breath at his ear. His smile was hardly lessened by her cheekiness, and he allowed himself to breathe her in like the perfume of an exotic flower. He tried not to think about how she made him feel when he was with her, or about how right it felt to have her in his arms. There were some things Bruce couldn’t ignore, though, and he tried even harder not to think about that. His elevated heartbeat was a telling sign, however.

“Probably that I’m growing up,” he admitted, still smiling. It was no secret that he was usually seen with bimbos; he’d set out to make it that way. Stupid women weren’t a threat to his regime. They didn’t ask any questions beyond ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ or ‘Wow, you really have a Porsche?’ and he could switch them out often enough so that his never sleeping with any of them wasn’t a problem. “Although they might just think that my attourney swept some kind of scandal under the rug and you’re my parole officer. I mean,” he left a lingering kiss on her neck. “What’s a level-headed, beautiful and intelligent woman doing mixing herself up with a scumbag jerk like Bruce Wayne?”

[Susanna Gossamer]

Hmmm, she hadn't considered that. If she had thought about 'what people would say' it really only mattered to her what her employers might think, dating a crime victim. Luckily they had already relieved her of the obligation to care by suspending her. So who really gave a shit what they thought now? Asshats. Really, the only thing she had thought so far is how nice it was to even have a boyfriend, particularly one who wasn't terrified of her or a complete idiot. Or worse, some kind of sadistic murderer. The odds were stacked against girls in this town finding a decent man. Really, a chauvinistic playboy who spent his nighttime hours gallivanting around with a mask and wings was pretty good!

"Hmmmm," she said instead, pretending to be considering things. "Well," she finally reasoned, pulling back to give him a sly look. "He does have a Porsche." She pretended all of two seconds before breaking down and smiling and planting one on him without care for who saw. "But it turns out he's an alright guy, too," she explained. "Even if he does have kind of a... dark side." She smirked.

[Bruce Wayne]

Bruce’s smile at the mention of his alter ego was what one might term ‘boyish’. The two people who knew him better than anyone else – one of whom who was now gone – had never really understood his need to do something about the poor state of affairs in a city his parents had loved and cultivated. Alfred pretended to have a grasp on things but in reality Bruce knew that his old confidante was more concerned about his nightly forays than anything else. In Susie, he saw someone who did understand, and he clung to it. He needed it like he needed air.

“Don’t forget I also have a Lamborghini,” he told her pointedly, his arm still around her as he started to move them both towards the exit. Hanging around the lobby of his building wasn’t something that one could do indefinitely, no matter how much he happened to like the attention. “I just got it back from the shop last month. Apparently they couldn’t understand why I wanted to fix that one when it would probably work out cheaper to just buy the new model.” He smirked, teasing her. Anyone who overheard him would undoubtedly be disgusted by his supposed arrogance and frivolous whimsy.

Once outside and in the brisk but not too chilly breeze that Gotham had a habit of fostering, he pulled Susie a little closer – purely to keep her warm, you understand. “Oh,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “And some motorcycles,” he said with a flippant hand gesture at the red beast pulled ominously at the curb. “Don’t suppose you’d care for a ride?” he grinned.

[Susanna Gossamer]

"Oh, right!" she replied lightly to his reminder about the Lambo, laughing when he talked about repairing it. She had to admit, as much as she tried to play it off about his oodles of money, it still kind of made her head spin. Most months she had to make the choice between luxury and necessities, and it was weird to be in the presence of someone who not only never had to make those decisions, he also never had to decide which of any luxuries he might partake in. The sky was the limit, and she was only glad that he seemed happy to spend the majority of his money on protecting Gotham, rather than what the media would presume he did: girls, cars, and pleasure-seeking.

But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the perks of having a rich love interest, either. So his money was a little otherworldly, sure. And yeah, he was bragging, which probably would have earned a roll of her brown eyes from any other man. The catch was, most other men didn't own a Ducati. She liked to think she was too well-principled to be influenced by shiny things and a fat wallet, but that was when she was considering expensive clothes and overpriced caviar. It was something else entirely to be in the presence of one of the fastest pieces of machinery ever built. What could she say? There really was something sexy about a guy with a fast car.

"Is the Pope Catholic?" she responded with an easy grin. It was somewhat ironic that she used the phrase interchangeably with 'Hell yeah.'

[Bruce Wayne]

There really was little else for Bruce to do besides grin wolfishly when he heard Susie’s answer to his question, and while he’d taken many a girl for a ride on his bike (all for the benefit of the public persona he strove to maintain) it definitely meant something a little more to him now that he was asking her to hop on the pillion seat. In a few steps he was over at the bike, extracting his keys and unlocking the hook that kept his helmet secured to the fuel tank and out of one of Gotham’s many pawn shops. He held it out to Susie, his grin still broad but mainly because he was factoring in how cute she’d look in the contraption.

Without a pause he expertly flipped out the foot-pegs on either side of the passenger seat for her before swinging his leg gracefully over the bike. It roared to life viciously when he turned the key, sounding angry and very, very fast. Letting it idle, he slipped on a pair of Armani shades and held a hand out to the gorgeous redhead still waiting on the pavement. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady,” he teased, holding it steady as she settled herself behind him. The feel of her arms around his waist was attention-grabbing, and even though it was an innocent enough – not to mention warranted – action, Bruce couldn’t help but let his all too male mind wander a little as he revved up the bike before taking off into traffic.

And who knew? Maybe he would do something reckless to get her to hold him a little tighter.