Poker Face | Bruce Wayne

thirty eight

PRESENT DAY

"You... played chess with Batman?"

"No, Lo. I won chess against Batman."

There was a pause.

"You confuse me, Meredith."

The billionaire scoffed, pushing herself further back in her leather chair. "Like you're one to talk? You throw yourself off of buildings to get Clark's attention— my actions pale in comparison."

"Oh, so you admit you were trying to get his attention?"

There was a knock on her office door.

"I was not trying to get his attention." Meredith frowned. She hesitated before a slight smirk tugged at her lips. "And even if I was, it's not like it was particularly hard. You know how Bruce is."

Lois' bold laugh jingled over the phone.

"Anyway, I have to go, Lois. Thanks for the gossip, as usual."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll keep you updated on the Clark situation, too. Later, Mare."

Meredith set her personal phone down on her desk, cleared her throat, and glanced up at her door. "Come in."

A moment later, she was staring at the bright blue eyes of a grinning young man. He wore a fitted white-collared shirt and charcoal dress pants— a Giovanni original, no doubt.

"Timothy Drake." She smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you had the day off today."

He shrugged as he entered the office. "I had some stuff to finish up for the board, figured I'd stop in. What are you up to?"

Regaling Lois Lane with the tale of seducing your father.

"Just catching up on paperwork for HR," she lied. "Nothing serious."

He nodded in understanding. "That... sucks."

She chuckled. "For lack of a better word."

Tim gave her a sheepish smile. "Uh, so rumor has it that we're hosting some Halloween party that you're planning? What's that about?"

"Thomas and Martha used to host them every year when I was a kid," she explained. "Devin suggested that we bring them back."

"Huh." Tim hummed, almost sounding unconvinced.

She raised a brow. "Is something wrong with that?"

His eyes widened. "No! No, not at all. I think it's pretty cool, I'm just a little... surprised, I guess. For as long as I've known you, you don't really seem like the type to enjoy parties."

"Well, to be honest, I don't, but my mother always used to help decorate the Manor, and recently she's been... going through a lot," Meredith lied again. "I figured it would cheer her up."

"Oh, well, that's nice of you guys." Tim seemed to buy it. "I think she's supposed to be coming over later tonight, actually. Or, at least, that's what Alfred told me."

Meredith blinked in surprise. Her mother hadn't mentioned anything about going to the Manor later that day.

"Anyway," Tim said as he cleared his throat, beginning to turn back around towards the door. "I won't keep bothering you— I'm sure you're just itching to get back to that thrilling paperwork—"

She tilted her gaze back towards her open laptop screen and chuckled again. "Yes, slapping my signature on hundreds of documents that each take me an hour to get through. So riveting."