He thought about Zatanna. About the economy of their interaction. The way she'd accepted his non-answers without making them into a conversation. The way she'd offered information without expecting equal return.
He thought about Selina. The device she was holding. She'd contact him eventually, he was certain. Selina Kyle didn't let debts sit unresolved for long, either direction.
He thought about Batman's unfinished question. About Desaad's interest. About the fact that somewhere on Apokolips or in whatever shadow infrastructure connected Darkseid's forces to Earth, a file existed with Sovereign's observed capabilities listed in it.
That file would grow. Whatever Desaad's agents were reporting, whatever Viktor Dragunov had communicated after escaping the raid, the information flowing toward Apokolips would be used to build a clearer picture of who and what Sovereign was.
James needed to be a more complicated picture than they were expecting.
He reached Metropolis at ten PM and checked into a hotel near the financial district. Not the most expensive hotel in the city, that would have been the kind of conspicuous his civilian identity didn't need yet, but good. Clean. The kind of place a young entrepreneur on the way up stayed when closing a real deal.
He ordered room service, reviewed the Drake Shipping contract one final time, and was asleep by midnight.
---
The signing took ninety minutes on Tuesday morning.
The Harmon & Associates offices occupied the fourteenth floor of a building that had, according to a small plaque near the elevator, once been partially destroyed during one of Superman's early confrontations with a Metropolis-based threat and subsequently rebuilt.
James noticed the plaque the way he noticed most things now, with the part of his mind that was always quietly cataloguing context.
Timothy Drake Sr. was already there when James arrived, looking like someone who'd been up since five and was running entirely on coffee and professional momentum. His handshake was firm.
"James. Thank you for coming."
"Wouldn't miss it."
The Harmon side had three people at the table. Patricia Harmon, who ran the company her father had founded, was sharp and deliberate and had clearly reviewed every line of Drake's proposal herself.
She asked three pointed questions during the signing process that confirmed she understood the contract's leverage points better than her own legal team seemed to. James revised his assessment of the company's long-term stability upward while she was talking.
The contract was signed by eleven fifteen. Handshakes.
Photographs for each company's internal records.
A bottle of something expensive opened and mostly not drunk because everyone at the table was still working.
Timothy Drake pulled James aside while Patricia Harmon talked with her team.
"This wouldn't have happened without you," he said. He wasn't being performatively grateful. He meant it specifically and knew James would understand the specific meaning.
"The introduction, the structuring, the way you framed our regional track record when they pushed back on our Metropolis experience gap. All of it."
"Drake Shipping earned this," James said. "I just made sure the right people could see what was already there."
"Still." Timothy extended his hand again. "Thank you."
James shook it.
They had lunch together afterward, the two of them and Patricia Harmon at a restaurant two blocks from her office that she clearly considered a regular table.
The conversation moved from business logistics to Metropolis's infrastructure to Gotham's ongoing crime situation, and at some point Timothy mentioned that James had connections in both cities now and should think about what that could mean for his investment portfolio.
James listened, responded appropriately, and filed the observation. Timothy Drake Sr. was right. A Metropolis foothold had value beyond the Drake Shipping contract.
After lunch, Timothy flew back to Gotham. He had a board meeting.
James had the rest of the afternoon.
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