GOTHAM - ARTHUR'S ESTATE
The shadows in the corner of the sitting room shifted slowly and the violet-tinged smoke that coiled from the floor revealed the silhouette of a man within its depths.
Arthur Blackwynd stepped out of the void and into his home.
The Estate greeted him the way it always did, with silence that felt comforting, with air that smelled of old books and magic. The sitting room was dark except for the fireplace.
Arrthur exhaled, his shoulders dropped an inch.
"Welcome back, Master Arthur."
Arthur flinched.
It was small, a micro-movement, the kind that most people would have missed. But it was there, his hand twitched toward a weapon that wasn't present. His eyes widened for precisely one second.
Then he recognized the voice.
"Oh, shit." He turned, "George, you gave me a scare."
The butler stood in the doorway, his hands folded behind his back, his expression serene. George wore a simple black suit. No tie and the top button of his shirt was undone, which was as close to casual as George ever got.
"Frightening Death itself," George said, his voice almost a murmur, "is a compliment I shall gratefully accept. However, I was merely waiting for your arrival. I had a gut feeling that you would be home today."
Arthur stared at him for a moment longer, then shook his head slowly. "Your 'gut feelings' are terrifying, you know that?"
"I prefer to think of them as informed intuitions."
"Same thing."
"Semantics, Master Arthur." George stepped aside, gesturing toward the sitting room. "Shall we?"
Arthur moved past him, his boots still damp with harbor water, leaving faint prints on the hardwood floor. He stopped in the center of the room, looking around as if seeing it for the first time. The high ceilings. The dark wood paneling, the shelves of books that had been collected by Raven herself, some of them bound in materials that were unknown to him.
The fire crackled. "Yeah, well." Arthur ran a hand through his ashen white hair. "I've been neglecting rest lately. A lot happened, been going back and forth from place to place." He let his hand fall. "It makes you miss a bed sometimes."
George moved to stand near the fireplace, his shadow stretching across the wall like a second, more elegant version of himself.
"If you desire to sleep, your room is prepared."
Arthur shook his head.
"Still won't be sleeping." He walked to the sofa, a massive thing, upholstered in dark leather, and rested his hand on its back. "I just need to... rest."
George inclined his head. "Of course."
Arthur looked around again. The silence was different now and it came from rooms that were missing their occupants.
"I understand why Raven isn't here, but..." His brow furrowed. "Where is Kara?"
George's expression didn't change with a slight tilt of his head.
"Lady Kara said she would be heading toward the Fortress of Solitude," he said. "She mentioned something about running some tests on herself."
Arthur closed his eyes.
Breathed and opened them again.
"Of course." The word came out exasperated. "She really can't stay put, can she?"
"I made the argument," George said carefully, "that remaining here would be the more prudent course of action. Given her... condition."
"Stubborn as ever... but if that's the reason she's going to the Fortress..." Arthur shrugged. "Fine. She'll probably find Clark there, anyway." A pause. "Even thought he told me to say hi for her."
"Shall I relay the message when she returns?"
"No, I meant that won't be necessary once she finds Clark..." Arthur walked around the sofa and lowered himself onto it, more like collapsing. His body sank into the leather. "Oh, well. Just you and me here, then."
George allowed himself the smallest of smiles. It barely moved his lips, but it reached his eyes.
"And this troublemaker," he said, gesturing toward the corner of the room, "whom you so benevolently provided a shadow ring for."
Arthur followed his gaze.
Dexter was sprawled on his back in a patch of firelight, all four paws pointed at the ceiling. A thin band of black metal encircled one of his front paws, barely visible against his fur, pulsing with faint violet light.
The cat's tail flicked lazily.
"Dexter is a good cat," Arthur said.
Dexter rolled over slowly, and batted at the air. From his shadow ring, a tendril of darkness emerged, coiling upward and shaping itself into a sphere. A ball of pure shadow-stuff, no larger than an apple, hovered above his paws. He swatted it. It bounced off an invisible wall and returned. He swatted it again.
"Pretty clever, really," Arthur said, watching the cat play. "For a former Red Lantern, not surprising, though."
George's eyebrow rose a fraction. "Former Red Lantern is not a phrase one hears often."
"He chose rage, then I made him chose something else." Arthur leaned his head back against the sofa. "Honestly cats are like that. They choose what they want, when they want it, and damn the consequences."
"A philosophy to which I can relate."
Arthur laughed. "Yeah. I bet."
There was a pause. George's hands remained folded behind his back, but his expression had grown more serious.
"Just so you are aware, Master Arthur.. I insisted that Lady Kara remain here. I made the argument at length, citing the importance of rest, and that if any trouble arises there are people who can take care of it."
Arthur's eyes stayed on the ceiling. "And?"
"And she insisted that she does not like to be a prisoner." George's voice was carefully neutral. "She stated, and I quote, 'I am free to do what I want, when I want, and I am not going to sit in this beautiful house being beautiful while everyone gets to do... stuff.' End quote."
Arthur's mouth twitched.
"I couldn't stop her," George continued. "I literally cannot, physically, she is stronger than I am. Metaphysically, her argument was unassailable. And ethically..." He paused. "I found I did not have the heart to try."
Arthur turned his head to look at George who met his gaze evenly.
"I get it," Arthur said. "Stubborn, nothing surprising." He paused. "Also.. 'Lady' now? Instead of 'Miss'?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "What's with the sudden change, George?"
George straightened his already-straight posture.
"It is only natural," he said, "to call her that now."
Arthur squinted at him.
Dexter batted his shadow-ball into the fireplace, where the shadow construct dissipated with a soft hiss.
"Right," Arthur said slowly. "I see what you're implying."
"I am implying nothing, Master Arthur, I am simply using appropriate honorifics."
"You're implying that. And it's not going to happen anytime soon."
George's smiled.
"You will, though," he said. "In the future, I am quite certain of it. Once the world is a better place."
Arthur stared at him for a long moment. Then he looked away, back at the fire, at the ceiling, at the shadow-ball reforming in Dexter's paws.
"Well," he said quietly, "at least you know my priorities are straight."
"They have always been straight, Master Arthur. That has never been in question."
"Yes," Arthur finally said. "I'm fighting for that world, for all of us."
He let his head fall back against the sofa cushion. His eyes closed.
Then.. "Did you hear anything?"
George, who had begun to turn toward the kitchen, paused.
"Pardon me?"
Arthur's eyes remained closed. "I mean... like, minutes ago. Before I arrived."
George considered this, his head tilted slightly, a gesture of thought rather than confusion.
"I did, actually." He turned back to face the sofa. "It was quite distant, but the sound was clear enough. It seemed to originate from the direction of Gotham Harbor." He paused. "It sounded rather like an explosion of some sorts."
Arthur's lips curved.
"These sorts of sounds," George continued, "are not foreign to Gotham, of course. The city has a certain... character. An appetite for the dramatic."
Arthur almost laughed.
"Right," he said. "In that case... never mind."
George watched him for a moment, the lines of exhaustion around his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell slowly.
"I shall return with refreshments," George said. "You look as though you require some."
"Pretty please," Arthur said.
George inclined his head, a full sincere bow.
"Pretty please it shall be."
He turned and walked toward the kitchen and Arthur watched him go.
Then he closed his eyes again, let his head rest against the cushion, and listened to the fire.
Dexter shadow-ball forgotten, jumped onto the sofa and curled up against Arthur's thigh. The cat purred a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the leather, through Arthur's bones.
Arthur's hand found the cat's fur without looking.
He stroked.
"Good cat," he murmured.
Dexter's purr deepened.
"Aaaand I really should have sent my Marshals to guard her." Arthur said.
/-\
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