Double Date

August 10, 2016:

Tim asks Bruce to be his wingman; Darcy brings along Low Fat Bat.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

After a week of missed connections that could probably fill a single Craig's List page, Tim knew the ball to be officially in his court. Which is how Darcy would get invited here. The small, nearly quaint (it is Gotham, after all), cafe that he'd chosen felt casual enough to be a non-event, but nice enough to maybe count as a date. Of course, after a week of not responding to texts, Tim almost expected Darcy to be a no-show.

Because that's exactly the kind of thing that a former unnamed girlfriend would've done just to spite him.

Evidently, however, Darcy was coming AND bringing someone from work. Which prompted Tim to invite Bruce along.

Sitting at a table for four, Tim Drake spent far too long trying to look casual before arriving here. Blue jeans, a sweater, and black dockers. It's simple, really. Upon arrival, he'd ordered four waters, so four glasses rest on the table's surface. He leans his elbows on the table and scrolls through his phone at the barrage of texts.

It was work. Honest! Darcy reported to May that Something Strange in a Neighborhood (TM) happened to her in Gotham and since SHIELD's WAND team were the ones to call, it really would be a good idea to check it out. It was at that house, an estate near Somerset, near the end of the story about a ghost woman and flying papercut and a giant furry bat-dude in a cape a woman who spoke in tongues and some other chick throwing salt all over hell and back, that Darcy's phone beeped a message at her. Reading it, she smirked and texted back while telling May that since it was time for lunch, she had a place in mind. Address entered into Google Maps, Darcy navigates for May, since May doesn't let her drive yet, until they arrive through the doors. At which point, while looking for Tim, Darcy tells May: "The friend who told me about this place is kind of meeting us here, so please don't kill him with your straw wrapper."

LOG NOTE: flying papercut = flying papers

"Nice place." Bruce settles into the seat next on Tim's right, flicking a napkin out and resting it on his thigh. He's dressed casually, too— jeans, browl dress shoes, a blazer. It's the sort of look that a billionaire around town might grab for something decidedly low key. He flicks a smile at Tim, though his ward would know better— it's all for show. Batman isn't the smiling type.

His two bodyguards settle into a table not far off, big former SpecOps types wearing Armani and long coats. Bruce Wayne also doesn't travel un-escorted.

"What's good here?" he inquires, glancing at the aperitif menu on the tabletop once, briefly. His eyes move to the door, waiting for May and Darcy to arrive— once they do, he clears his throat for Tim's benefit and rises as they make their approach.

"No promises," is May's only reply to the straw wrapper comment. And really, the straw would be the more dangerous thing to worry about anyway. She follows Darcy toward the table, unsurprised at seeing Wayne here. And the young man, well, she's heard about him. It's about time she gets to meet him and do a bit of observation. Her own clothing is very similar to what she wore to the derby event — dark jeans, dark shirt, black jacket completely wrong for the summer weather, sturdy black boots… and a gold necklace chain disappearing under the neckline of her shirt.

"Thanks," Tim offers to Bruce in return. He sucks on the inside of his cheek and glances towards the door every few moments. "And thanks for coming. I'm still not wholly convinced I'm not being punked," because Tim really does have that kind of luck. His fingers rake through his hair and he shoots Bruce an easy smile.

His chin drops and he eyes the menu before managing a vague nod, "I would suggest any of the sandwiches if you're shooting for lighter fare." His lips twist to the side and he adds, "I'd steer away from the pasta though." With a shake of his head, his eyes finally catch Darcy and May at the door. He stands to his feet, and lifts a few fingers to catch the pair's attention.

"Darcy!" He manages with a smile. "Thank you for coming." He motions towards Bruce, "This is my friend," because calling someone your former guardian doesn't make you seem adult, "Bruce Wayne. I invited him along to join us for lunch today."

Darcy was working, so it's SHIELD office attire. Black suit that is most definitely Wal-Mart top of the line with some help from Lane Bryant. So very ready to wear. And heels. Of course. Payless. It was a BOGO. Spying Tim, Darcy waves and makes her way to the table, spotting Bruce when he stands. She smiles, and turns to walk backwards as if to say somethign to May.

In reality, Darcy's eyes widen and she mouths: Oh. My. God. What. The. F…

And Darcy turns again, smiling, though she's clearly a bit nervous. Perhaps she is recalling a small snafu that happened with Mr. Wayne. And why the hell.. HOW the hell does Tim know Bruce Wayne?!

Darcy moves toward Tim's side of the table to give him a quick hug of 'hey, we're friends because we exchanged texts about what we were eating and the possible state of dress when delivering guys show up' before turnign to offer her hand to Bruce.

"Hiya, Tim! Absolutely happy to finally have you meet me for lunch or dinner or derby or anything. Really, man; you should NOT study so hard. Undergrad's important but basics are basics," Darcy teases Tim as she hugs, and she smiles at Bruce.

"We've met. Nice to see you again, Mr. Wayne. I had absolutely no idea you two knew each other, or I'd have said something at the bout the other night. You remember, May?" she asks, motioning to her SO before introducing her to Tim.

"Tim, this is my boss, Melinda May. May, Tim Drake. Ran into him at Gotham U when I popped by the library to say hi to a contact," she says in explanation of how she knows Tim.

Bruce shakes hands all around, smiling at everyone and then seating himself after offering May a hand with her chair— nothing overt, a touch of the back of her chair that she could ignore if she's of the mind to do so.

"Tim didn't tell you? I adopted him several years ago," Bruce says, brows hiking a little at the lack of communication between Tim and Darcy. Because any father would be surprised, right? "He doesn't like having a famous dad," he says with a wry grin. "You should have seen the fight we had over him living in the dorms." He laughs easily, dispelling any tension, and turns to look at May so Tim and Darcy can make moon eyes at one another.

"So, Miss May— how do you like your government job?" he inquires, amicably. "Darcy certianly speaks highly of you, and she seems the sort not easily impressed."

Melinda May shakes hands with Bruce, then looks at Tim as she takes the offered seat. She seems to be visually evaluating the kid, her expression as cooly Vulcan as ever. "Mr. Drake." The guards nearby get a glance but that's about it.

"I get to travel a fair bit," May answers Bruce neutrally.

The hug is easily returned, and an affable smile draws Tim's lips upwards. "Yeah, so sorry about that! It's not just undergrad it's that whole pre-med thing. Kind eats the time." Or it would if he went to class regularly.

He glances between Bruce and Darcy several times over, "When did you two meet?" there's just a hint of apprehension at the thought. There's a chuckle at the thought of fighting over the doors, followed by an amiable grin, "Not quite the way I want to live. A person needs to have a real college experience," his nose wrinkles, "you know?"

"Nice to meet you Miss May. I can only assume that Darcy aids in all of your office supply needs — " His hands retreat into his pockets before assuming his seat again.

"No, he didn't tell me. But then, he also hasn't told me if he likes regular fries or curly fries, so the topic of parental units has not been had," Darcy quips in reply, taking the weight of any possible fretting about that off the table. Her grin, however, at Bruce's declaration of being Tim's adopted father, does have Darcy grining mischeviously in that way that promises teasing. For the moment, she moves to take her seat next to Tim, either not noticing the guards or ignoring them. Likely, it's the former. Not yet a fully trained Agent, this one. She leans toward Tim as she unwraps her silverware and drops her napkin to her lap.

"Adopted?" Darcy asks, looking from Bruce to Tim with a grin. "That's quite a bit different from friend, there Tim. Did you /really/ bring Dad by to meet me already? You haven't even asked me out on a date yet, dude," she quips at him, winking lightly at Bruce. Because really, for a billionaire type guy, he really is so laid back and chill. After all, to laugh this warmly and talk her through the mortification of having cussed him out… he's quality people.

"I ran some paperwork over to his office and then back to mine. Work stuff, really. And then, what are the odds of this one? He went to the most recent Gotham vs Grid Iron bout. Their rink's trash. I'm so glad you haven't gotten to see it yet, but egads it's bad. Anyway, apparently the league manager applied for something at Wayne something, and they won or soemthing and he was at the derby to I guess… help the girls announce that it was going to be refurbished as the Martha Wayne Derby Center… or soemthing," she prattles about their meeting, reachign for her water to drop her straw in.

"College life is so not over rated, but do NOT go to frat parties without a very trusted wing man, do NOT leave your rink unattended ever because spiking drinks is not just girl-target only and you're a very pretty guy, someone would want that. Also, coffee is your friend, study groups are NOT lame, and the Learning Assistance Center really is the best thing sine sliced bread," Darcy adds before drinking some of her water and cutign her eyes toward May, wondering how she'll respond to that one. All her office supply needs. Darcy grins because she can't snicker with water in her mouth without making a big mess… and they are in polite company at the moment, thank you.

"It's okay," Bruce assures Darcy with a chuckle. He nods at May, and despite her stonewalling presses on with the conversation. "I'm interested to hear your thoughts actually— if you can discuss them," he inquires of the agent. "We're really excited to hear feedback on the new portable area threat analysis devices," he asks the taciturn woman. "They're not seeing a lot of field issue, so it feels hard to get feedback. Do you have any thoughts?" he says, reaching for his water to take a few sips.

"We've promoted her from office supplies to interoffice memo gopher." Yup. May's in deadpan mode, be very afraid. "Give her six more months, and she might make it to the mail room." She reaches for her own water glass to take a sip, though leaves her straw still in its paper wrapper right there within easy reach.

May sets her glass down and looks at Bruce. "This is the first I've heard about these devices. Get me one and I'll test it out myself." Of course, the sorts of situations she deals with of late are way, WAY beyond the usual types of threats. Trolls, anyone?

"That's me," clearly, "the strong silent type," Tim quips with a smirk. "Darcy and I only recently met." But even with that insistence, Tim turns three shades of red at the comment from Darcy. Sheepishly, his chin drops to his chest and his vision trains on his floor like it's the single most interesting thing in the room. Slowly the red expands through to his ears and he clears his throat once over.

Tim's head turns to watch Bruce a few beats as he leans back in his seat. "So…" he clarifies following Darcy's explanation, "…you funded the roller derby centre? Because they won a prize or something?" He shrugs lightly, "Well, the rink definitely could use it. That place needs some real work."

The thought of leaving drinks unattended causes two deep dimples to form along Tim's cheeks. "Well, not really much of the partying type — not anymore. No time now. First year maybe, and, to my knowledge, no one spiked my drinks." Pause. "I don't think." His lips purse inc consideration.

"What does interoffice memo gopher mean, exactly?" Tim asks brightly. Innocent Tim Drake means nothing by this; he wouldn't dare try to bait someone. "And here I thought roller derby would make her an ideal office supply manager. Body checking folks when needed… seems useful."

"Hey! I'm trained enough to lob Molotov's around, thank you very much," Darcy quips at May, as if that is a good defense to being promoting to mail room in six more months. She points her straw, which she was playing with, at her SO before plopping it back into her water. Her smile is broad at Tim's Dr. Zoidberg impression. She head tilts at Tim's comment about the rink.

"You've seen it?" She nods at that, distracted by the dimples and the pause and the way he tries to think about spiked drinks.

"And that, right there? That's exactly what those things do, man. Seriously. If you're going to go to a party, even a wild and crazy scientist pre-med party, you take a wingman. If you don't have one, you call me. Unless I'm being drug about by May here, I'm there. Cause, I've been there. College night life will chew you up and spit you out if you're not careful," Darcy says before snickering at the offie joke.

"Means I take memos from one office to another, duh. And derby's good for that too. How do you think I get downt hat halls wicked fast? Or keep no-neck goons from getting their paws on my goods?" Darcy's beign innocent, she really is. It's not her fault that her hand gesture, which in her mind was meant to look like she's cradling a mesenger bag to her chest, looks like something completely different when there's nothing in said hands, nor context.

"It was that civic intramural development grant," Bruce explains to Tim, nodding at his ward. "Last year it was the soccer arena. It's nice to do something a bit less mainstream— I'd like to see derby really take off. It's a heck of a sport," he says with a wry chuckle. "Some of those hits made me wince. Reminds me of varsity year in high school."

The waiter comes over and inquires of the ladies what they'd like, and Bruce calmly orders a light salad. "I'd have something more, but I had a bit of a late breakfast," he apologizes.

The billionare nods at May's request. "I wish I could give you one but your procurement office has all of the models we sent you." He crosses his legs at the knee, settling comfortably into the embrace of the chair as the kids talk. "Have you been with SHIELD long, then?"

Procurement office. Great. One of the areas more badly hit by the Daemonite infestation. Not that May voices any of that aloud or even lets a hint of her reaction show on her face. "I'll speak with the procurement office, then." She looks up at the waiter and orders one of the sandwiches from the menu, again proving that field agent adage of 'eat when you can', and then looks back at Bruce. "Longer than Mr. Drake has been alive, most likely."

"Reasonable. So, basically, you're a delivery girl?" Tim clarifies towards Darcy. "You take notes from one place and put them in another. Isn't that what email is for?" He actually manages a smirk following these words. Evidently he can eventually shed his crimson exterior. "I hope you at least do it with skates on, and not those ice pick shoes you were wearing when we met. You'd roll plenty of ankles running around in those things."

"Thanks for the offer, Darce, I'll remember that next time I want to go party." Beat. A glance is given towards Bruce, "Not that that's a thing. I'm there to learn and stuff. Not perfect my beer pong."

When the waiter takes their orders, Tim takes his own advice and opts for a BLT. He wanted the tuna, but some time ago Dick had given him some vague advice about fish and dating and he couldn't quite remember it, so he dodged that bullet altogether.

May is granted a small shrug, "I'm older than I look." Probably not.

Darcy nods enthusiastically at Bruce's comment about some of those derby hits.

"Ohmygod, I know, right? The way Beyonslay sent Cab Faire Lady slidding into the stands at the end of the first half! It was BRUTAL! I took a hit from her one week. Rattled my noodle. Couldn't skate straight for a quarter hour," she says, eyes bright, smile wide. She chuckles, tilting a head at Tim. "Sometimes. Depends on where I'm going." Waiter? OOh! Darcy orders a sandwich too. A roastbeef something. It sounded good. But at Tim trying to stress that it's NOT a thing, she straightens up and lifts her right hand as if swearing before a judge.

"Beer pong is totally part of the college experience. And so is watching the jocks who think they can hold their alcohol drunk themselves under a table," she says to both Bruce and Tim before pointing a finger at Tim. "It's also the best place to study the effects of varying levels of alcohol poisoning on the college-aged male, so it totally can be a thing, and I would take it as a personl insult if you go to a party and NOT invite me. Though, I'm going to be totally honest and say that undergrad was a while ago and I'm not the drinker I used to be so I don't ever plan on getting sloshed," she states firmly, sounding so wise and mature and junk. Almost as if she were every year of her thirty some that she is. And then the question of May's age in SHIELD comes up and she clicks her tongue lightly.

"May is a beautiful and elegant lady, whose years shall never be spoken of, so no, no you are not 'older than you look' because that implies that May is 'older than she looks' and I will not stand for anyone being mean to my hot-as-hell commanding officer.." she turns to May and smiles. "All due respect and all that."

Only Tim might catch it, as Bruce goes a bit thoughtful. An expression that seems to be meandering between 'Is Darcy helping the conversation or pouring gasoline on it'.

The girl is quite vivacious, and when she gets to the high praise for her commanding officer he chuckles easily, taking the compliments as a bit of playful banter between the two women— well, not so much a game of 'catch' as perhaps darts, anyway.

"Part of college is having some fun, Tim," Bruce advises his ward. "That includes making mistakes, including losing at beer pong at a fraternity party," he says with an easy chuckle. "One or two nights of revelry probably won't tank your academic career."

"Any thoughts about the private sector then, Miss May? Or are you intending to stay with SHIELD for the foreseeable future?"

Melinda May glances sidelong as Darcy, but doesn't comment on the younger woman's rather expansive comments. Instead she looks at Bruce again and says completely calmly, "Unless you have a Bus for me to drive and a reason to drive it, I'm staying where I'm at." And even then she would likely not turn her back on SHIELD. Definitely not WAND.

"That sounds like a pretty fantastic race! It's rough though. And impressive at how well they take the hits. I definitely couldn't take a hit like they do. Those ladies are intense!" Tim rests his hands on the table. "Actually, I think that's true of most women athletes. They're tough."

His jaw tightens and Tim glances between the other three, "Okay. I'll consider it. Honestly, it's not really my scene, but I'll think about going to one of those pre-med bashes. I've heard that they can be pretty intense." He looks back towards Darcy, "And if I go," heavy on the if, "I'll give you a call. I'm a bit of a lightweight, so I suspect you'll be painfully disappointed in the whole alcohol-poisoning thing as far as I'm concerned, but I'm pretty sure some of my peers will get carried away."

The comments about May have Tim relenting, "Hey, not meaning to insult, just saying." He nods once at May, "I imagine your work is pretty engaging, and would be hard to walk away from. I think that's true a lot of public service."

Darcy totally doesn't catch Bruce being thoughtful of wondering about gasoline. It's his statements about beer pong and mistakes that has Darcy looking at him with a bright smile and a nod of her head.

"See? Dad gets it. Loosen up, have a shot, I'll take the second one, Feather-Weight, and I'll kick your hungover ass back to studying in the morning," Darcy says as if this completely settled the matters as the food orders begin to arrive. She beams further as Tim 'compliments' her round about like. She puffs up, brushing a shoulder with a hand.

"Yes, I am tht intense and can take all the hits." She takes a bite of her sandwich without preamble, grinning at the idea of May working anywhere but SHIELD.

"I think the term is Married to the Job, Mr. Wayne. But if you've got a bus that May'll drive, I want to see it and I want a ride to school in it," she says, mouth a bit full because she relaxed a bit and forgot she's supposed to have slightly better table manners today.

"Well, keep us in mind if you ever think about going private," Bruce offers May with a polite smile. "We hire extensively from the federal service."

He sits back as the food arrives, and sets about dressing his salad with a few dabs from his fork tines into the ranch, then muddles it thoroughly. Calorie conscious much?

"Always better to go in pairs," Bruce offers the two younger people at the table. "Even at a relatively safe party like a campus one. Just helps simplify things to have someone watching your back, if you ask me."

Melinda May starts in on her own sandwich, something hideously healthy looking with turkey and far, far too many vegetables. "No offense, Mr. Wayne, but I doubt you could afford me." Because she'd expect pay to compensate ALL of her skills if she were going to turn her back on SHIELD.

"Well you rolled an ankle pretty badly when we met and still managed to recover quickly. I'd say that means you can take a hit," Tim returns to Darcy with a shrug. His own food is munched much more thoughtfully as he studies Darcy and May in turn.

A nod is given towards Bruce, "Thanks for the tip. Seems like smart advice. And I'll make sure to let you know the next time something is happening on campus worth attending. There's a lot that just looks… sad. 'Let's all pretend we're on a tropical island and get hammered,' 'Let's all pretend it's Halloween in spring and dress up and get hammered, and my personal favourite, 'Let's all pretend we're escapees from the asylum, dress up, and get hammered.' Why does alcohol need a theme? Can't it just be, 'here's some liquor, hang out and drink'?"

Tim's eyebrows draw together at May's remark, and his head cants to the side, but he doesn't remark on her affordability.

"Yeah. Well… I really should have complained to the Librarian that her staff was letting people just leave books laying around random places. I could have gotten hurt!" Darcy retorts about how they met. Now, does that sound fishy at all? Because it totally doesn't to Darcy, since she just eats on more of her sandwich, grinning in a I have a Marauder's Map kind of way.

"This sounds like you just volunteered yourself to host the first ever 'here's soem liquor, hang out and drink' party," Darcy informs Tim. "I so wanna come," she adds before looking over at May, laughing at the eggs on that one. (A saying Darcy learned from some Mexicans in college.) She leans into Tim.

"Vibranium," she says softly, as if sharing a finally kept secret. Her eyes drift to Bruce, brows up in anticipation.

Bruce finishes his salad, then glances at his watch and clears his throat. "I'm sorry to dash, but I'm afraid I am a bit short on time today," the billionaire apologizes. "I've got a financial review meeting with the board of directors for one of our sub affiliates." He rolls his eyes minutely at himself, in a chagrined manner, and offers May a handshake, then rises and extends a hand to Darcy. "Miss May, a pleasure to meet you. Darcy, good to see you again. Tim— I hope we're still on for dinner this week." He claps the younger man on the shoulder and sets his napkin aside. "Lunch is on me— it's been my pleasure." With a smile and a wave, he takes his leave, the two hulking bodyguards not far behind.

Melinda May shakes Bruce's hand and nods to Tim as both men depart, and then she looks at Darcy. "That was interesting." She finishes her sandwich readily enough.

"Yeah. Totally didn't expect him to bring Dad, and CERTAINLY not for Dad to be Mr. Wayne. Completely blindsided." Darcy agrees, finishing her sandwich as the guys leave. A moment nad then she looks at May. "So…? We heading back to New York? Cause, I'm going to call waiting until dark to see if ghost chick sounds up at that house again Cruel and Unusual."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License