Young Writers Society

He placed the food down on the little countertop. The dining room was a few rooms down, but he doubted that they needed to eat in it. Eddie and Megara didn't need to be entertained, and he had never truly liked the dining room. It was too large and too empty - he was almost always the only one eating in there.

"These are hash browns, and these are donuts," he said. He gestured at the food as he spoke. He rarely used the plates while eating ordered food, but he still turned and retrieved some from the cabinets - he doubted Megara was the same as him when it came to eating.

She looked the food over again. Having food delivered was not what confused her - such luxuries were not unheard of in the higher courts - but it was the food itself. It didn't look bad exactly, not inedible, just...low effort. Like they were made with cheap imitations of the ingredients rather than the real thing. There was no way that was healthy.

Eddie, however, didn't seem to mind as he grabbed for the plates before she was ready for him to lurch like that. She almost dropped him.

"Eddie!" she chastised him, "If you keep bouncing around like that you're going to fall."

He stilled, sort of, and she placed him on the ground so she could use her free hand to serve up some food for him.

She addressed their host, "Do you live alone here? It's a very large place, I would imagine you have someone."

If she was honest, it kind of reminded her of the manor in a way. Just the big, empty nature of it all, how there never seemed to be anyone there but everything always seemed immaculate anyway.

What this place lacked was the tension. The artifacts hung on the walls that were really trophies marking milestones in Briar and Megara's careers. The jewels from the necklace Megara's first kill had been wearing when she died arranged artfully on a golden sculpture of a mighty and powerful queen or goddess, eerily reminiscent of the princess who owned the jewels. The silk from the robes the man Briar had killed to keep their father's lands from being overtaken cut and sewn around the edge of a tapestry depicting the most scenic location among those lands.

She didn't see anything like that here, but she didn't think she'd see it. Things like that had a feeling about them, a wrongness. She thought that if this place was anything like her home, she would feel it.

He didn't let himself falter when answering the question, even though his paranoia was making him wonder why she would want to know if he lived alone. He stubbornly wanted to believe that it was just a conversation starter, but Tim knew that he couldn't take risks like that.

Not when he had already strayed so far from this part of his story.

"My parents occasionally live here, and a few servants come and keep the house clean," he said. "But it's mostly just me - not that I mind."

He didn't, really. It might have been hard for Timothy Jackson Drake to handle being so seriously neglected by his parents, but this wasn't the first time he had faced neglect. Tim could handle the forget and hurt if it meant getting some of the freedom he desperately sought.

Megara gave Eddie his plate and he plopped down on the ground to eat it. The kid had something against eating at tables because he highly preferred sitting on the ground at mealtimes. She could never figure out why.

She began to serve herself something to eat as she responded, "That's lucky for you then. Back when I lived in...a place like this, I could only wish for some time alone." She didn't know what possessed her to reveal even that much about her old life, and the familiar paranoia that came with telling the truth like that gripped her for a fraction of a second before she remembered where she was, or, rather, where she wasn't. Namely, in her father's lands.

He grabbed one of the donuts.

"It has its ups and downs," he admitted. He took a bit out of it, feeling the chocolate frosting melt his mouth - it was good, but was mostly just food at this point. It had little substance other than putting something in his stomach.

"So does everything else," she shrugged and picked up one of the pastries, examining it, "If you ask me, the total privacy hasn't many downsides." She decided it was harmless and tried it, then immediately choked on how sweet it was. She managed to swallow it and put the pastry back down.

He was more than a little amused by her reaction to the donut, but he hid his reaction well by taking another bite out of his own. It wasn't long before the makeshift feast was over. Tim glanced at the clock, both to see the time and provide a good explanation for why he was about to leave so abruptly. He had already mentioned school, but running late would provide the perfect explanation for why he couldn't linger in the Wayne Manor.

He turned back to the two, urgency in his eyes and in his voice. "I'm going to be late for school if we don't hurry," he said. "It's not a long walk to where we're going, but I won't be able to stay once we get there - I can't be late to my first class."

He got up and threw out the garbage from their breakfast, already straightening out his hair like he was trying to make himself more presentable. His backpack, thankfully, wasn't far away either - he had left it in the corner of the adjacent living room yesterday after school.

He grabbed his backpack and slipped it onto both shoulders.

Megara collected Eddie, kneeling down to ask if he'd left anything in the guest room. He said he hadn't - which could actually be true with how little they brought with them - and she took his hand as she straightened out and followed their host.

"Where are we going?" she inquired.

"Next door," he said.

It was the benefit of having the Wayne Manor so close by - in the comics, a decision like that wouldn't have been made for several more years, but Tim had decided that speeding up that one particular plot point would be more beneficial than detrimental.

He held open the front door for Megara and Eddie.

They stepped outside, Eddie clinging to Megara's side, and ade their way with their host to the manor next door.

On the walk, Megara asked, "If you're this wealthy, what were you doing in the streets where you found us?" It was rude, yes, and exactly the kind of question she would never answer if it was her who was being asked. She asked it anyway. Not everyone had a tragedy to keep them from revealing just about anything about themselves.

For just a moment, he stiffened.

"I was just walking through the streets," he said. "I was heading back from a restaurant in a different part of town - I felt like eating out last night."

It was a carefully rehearsed lie, but something told him that she'd pick up on it. Regardless, he kept walking towards Wayne Manor. Though his house was right next to the manor, it was still a bit of a walk - they were, after all, mansions, and both had a decent amount of yard surrounding them.

She should have expected a lie. She didn't push, though. A while back, she might have, but now she got that lies were told for a reason.

She decided to, instead, change the subject, "Do you have that problem where people keep trying to get in relationships with you because you're part of a rich family? Gods, that was so annoying," she chuckled, managing to find some humor despite what happened the last - and only - time she'd been in a relationship. Watching nobles trip over themselves to woo her was still some level of humorous, if a little annoying.

He gave a small smile.

"I do," he said, though it wasn't for the reason that she mentioned. He never could explain his aversion to relationships - even with those who weren't after him for his money. "Most of the people at my school are fairly rich, but I'm one of the richer ones. I've been asked out on dates three times in the past month alone."

She chuckled, "I used to have nobles going to my father at least that many times a day asking for betrothals. He refused every time, in part because I would have objected rather strenuously to the concept." It was probably the only good thing he ever did for her, and even that was for his own gain. The Count couldn't go losing his assassins to marriage now could he.

"I thought I had I had it tough," he said, partially joking and partially serious.

He wondered what her life must have been like before this moment. The choice in tense suggested that she was no longer with her father - something that he could emphasis. Nothing had happened to Jack Drake yet, but he wasn't exactly father of the year.

No, he had a better father figure in the man who lived in the manor that was only another minute's walk away from them - even though Bruce Wayne would be more of a father to the person he was supposed to be, and never to the person he actually was.