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"Yikes." For all his money, Selina always felt like she had the more freedom between them: to come and go as she pleased, disappear when she liked.

Then again, the kind of people who follow her around tend to be a little more dangerous than paparazzi, so who can really say who has it better?

"You don't make being fabulously rich sound like much fun."

"It has its moments."

Money makes things happen. He did just buy a bank recently. That allowed him to place a deed into the hands of a woman he admires, to help repay a debt that can never be fully repaid. He'll never forget the look on her face, the joy and disbelief it brought to her simultaneously.

A laugh leaves as a quiet exhale, and Selina quirks one corner of her mouth.

"Tell me." The part of her that would have hated hearing about this is still there, but it's quieter, less bothered by the idea of how he can throw his weight around.

It's still there, but she likes to think she has more self-control now.

He does tell her. But his public persona's idea of fun involves women, extreme sports, and exotic locations. His real idea of 'fun' is much quieter and far more philanthropic. They're small stories. Some of them revolving around the few, close relationships he maintains.

"Alfred and I still collect rare first editions," he tells her. "It's almost a competition now."

He recalls fondly running down the road to the mailbox with Alfred bringing up the rear in a more more dignified manner.

"I can remember when we gave Leslie the keys to the clinic."

Of course they collect first editions. Selina smiles, and it's a touch sarcastic, laden with irony. The rich kid might have grown up, but he's not all that different. Besides, it's fitting.

The name gives her pause, though.

"Leslie?"

"Leslie Thompkins. She runs the East Side Clinic we built in my father's name. She's an old family friend."

There's something about her expression that makes him ask, "You knew her?"

Leslie was born and raised in Gotham. She could have been around also in Selina's timeline.

"Yeah." She answers slowly, like she's in the process of making a decision, and she is: it's been easier to just pretend this is her home, to keep her Gotham, the other Gotham, at arm's length. The distance keeps it from hurting.

But what is she going to do, lie to him, pretend with the only person (well, besides Alfred) who knows where she came from?

Selina worries at a splinter in her chopsticks before nodding. "Think she went by Lee. She's cute, for a doctor." At least it's clear she's still a doctor, in this Gotham. Still, Selina cocks her head. "Are her and Gordon still a thing?"

He frowns, sadness around his eyes. The conversation highlights two facts he already knows. Shifting from one timeline to another has put her out of sync by decades. Also, the people and facts she once knew are a jumble, some aspects the same or close. Others wildly different. He can only imagine and sympathize with how disconcerting living here must feel.

"I'm sure she and Jim have met but they've never dated. She and Alfred see quite a bit of each other though."

The sadness she can see in his eyes makes her hackles rise. It's at least more subtle now than when she was a kid, but her back still straightens, expression closing just a little. It's too easy for her to read pity in too many faces: Selina's spent a lifetime guarding against it.

It makes her laugh a little sharper when he answers, but at least she still laughs.

"Seriously? I guess he got lucky, here." She remembers a party she worked, remembers seeing Alfred talking to Lee before things went bad. Maybe that led somewhere, in this universe. "You said a clinic - she never worked for the GCPD, then?"

The touch of sorrow doesn't linger. He knows she wouldn't appreciate the sentiment. She's always been strong, willing to make decisions for herself, and ready to face the consequences, no matter how life changing they may be. This is her life now. This is her city.

"They're just close friends," he's quick to add. "No. She's been a witness on many occasions but she's never worked directly for the police. It's always been either Gotham General or the clinic."

For as long as he's been an adult, she's worked for him.

Edited (spelling) 2018-01-18 18:32 (UTC)

She gives him a look that says sure they are as clearly as if she said it. She's playing off a different rule book, but Selina would bet money that the Lee and Alfred she knew wouldn't just be friends if Gordon wasn't in the picture.

"So now she helps the people who can't afford Gotham General?" Otherwise, why not bankroll her own clinic - as far as Selina knows, doctors are rolling in it.

Bruce has known for a very long time that the two are in love but have dedicated themselves to other endeavors and responsibilities. He feels partially responsible for that but doesn't feel at all remorseful. Like Selina, they're adults and capable of making their own decisions.

Leslie has always insisted on a moderate salary, her medical schooling having been paid for by her father. "It's nicknamed 'The Free Clinic' for a reason. The Wayne Foundation bankrolls the entire facility."

Everyone finds their path, eventually: Selina thought she knew hers, before all of this. Now it's different, sure, but just the way something in an old mirror is different: everything she thought is reflecting back, a little out of focus, but still recognizable.

"Jeez, Bruce. You trying to save the whole city, now?"

It doesn't surprise her. She always knew he'd try to save everyone, if he could: it was part of the trouble they always had with one another.

The question strikes close to home. Yes, he'd like to save the whole city and everyone in it. It's an ideal that wanes and grows in uneven cycles but never goes away.

He settles for a moderated answer. "I just do what I can."

"Don't be humble." She pauses, considering, then adds: "Well, don't be this humble." God knows she'd probably be rolling her eyes if she thought he was bragging.

He grins. "I'm not being humble, just truthful. What I do is substantial."

Does that count as bragging?

She likes his grin. It's not the boyish thing she remembers from another Bruce, but she can see him in there when he smiles.

Laughing, Selina shakes her head at him. "What Thompkins does is substantial. I knew a lot of kids that could have used a free clinic."

That doesn't mean they would have gone - Ivy hadn't wanted doctors, when she'd been sick. Hard to say if she'd have minded Lee or not.

Still, she acknowledges his part in the clinic. She mostly acknowledges it by flexing her foot against his leg, curling her toes under his calf, but that's still acknowledgement, right?

He'll take it. The acknowledgement and the toe curls.

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