Third Person POV The Wayne family, while knowing that he was still capable, were concerned for Alfred so, as a compromise, they hired someone to help keep the Wayne manor clean and prepare breakfast. The new help would clean during the night, not knowing of their employers... night activities. In the morning, the food would be ready and set on the table with its maker nowhere to be seen.
After another fight between the boys, where Tim's Bat Cave Coffee Machine was a victim of one of Damian's katanas, Tim started working in his room instead of the cave. No longer in the hidden cave, he could sometimes hear a faint humming in the hallways or thump as something or someone fell to the ground.
Of course, since Alfred had banned coffee machines in bedrooms, Tim would have to make trips to the closest kitchen. On one of these said trips, he found a light-skinned, dark-haired, blue-eyed woman softly singing a song while mopping. Her French accent seeming to elevate the beauty of her voice. When she turned to put the mop back in the bucket she found Tim staring at her, empty coffee cup slowly slipping out of his grip. She squeaked in shock and, being who she is, ended up falling over and spilling soapy water all over the kitchen floor.
"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!!" she squeals. Quickly going to clean it up. Tim sighing, put his empty coffee mug down, and helped. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne..." she sheepishly told him once finished. Then she spotted his empty cup, "Oh, we're you getting coffee?" He tiredly nodded and she perked up, "I could make you some?" Without waiting for an answer, she started making the Dupain-Cheng signature coffee... with extra caffeine. "Here you go," she timidly whispers as she hands him his now-filled mug.
"Thanks," Tim replies and takes a sip. His eyes go wide and look at the cup as if it holds all the answers in the world. "Holy crap! This stuff is amazing!"
She blushes and smiles. Answering, "It was one of the most popular ones we made..."
"Oh right," Tim replies. Still looking at the liquid in wonder. Taking tentative sips, as if trying to make it last the rest of his life. "You grew up in one of the best bakeries in Paris." He was the one tasked to look into her before they hired her.
Her eyes go wide for a second before recovering. "Yeah... I'm not surprised you knew that though. I mean, who wouldn't do a background check on someone before letting them have access to their house. Cleaning when everyone is asleep... I mean, if you guys do sleep. I don't think I've really run into anyone, but I mean, this place is humongous."
She then looks down at her feet. A blush tinting her cheeks. "So... you're a night owl?" she whispers.
"More like a permanently exhausted pigeon," he chuckles. Gesturing to his mug.
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She reads it giggles, "Well then let's hope Mr. Pigeon doesn't come to Gotham, or you'll be under his control," he looks at her with a puzzled face before she adds. "You had to be in Paris to understand... or know about Hawkmoth. Don't worry about it. He... disappeared."
