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Selina was cold.
It’d just stopped raining, and she’d made the choice to try and grab some food for herself once she was certain she wouldn’t get drenched. All she’d found so far was some wet back alleys and the freezing air doing it’s best to work it’s way through her sweater. It was, unfortunately, succeeding.
She cursed, kicking at the non-existent dirt in frustration. Her stupid dad’s stupid rose symbol was blinking out at her from across the street, boasting the rich dickheads behind its doors like it was taunting her. She stuck her tongue out at it.
Sighing, she tried to rub some feeling back into her arms as she walked, dejected. Looks like another night hungry.
Her foot caught on something, and she yelled as she was sent skidding across the concrete.
Oh for gods-
She could feel the telltale rawness on her knee and elbow, kindly informing her that she’d just ripped the skin off of them. Selina groaned, deciding to just lay on her back in silence as her mind tried to catch up with her aching body. Dammit.
“Hey! Are you okay?”
The voice made her shoot up immediately, locking eyes with the stranger.
He looked maybe twelve or thirteen, a little younger than her. His curly dark hair had frizzed up in the post-rain air, and he was wearing possibly the most expensive looking coat she’d ever seen a kid wear. Seriously, where did he get that thing?! Did he steal it, or was he just that rich?
He hurried over, seemingly intent to help her up before she did it herself. “I’m fine,” she muttered, dusting off her pants. “Just tripped. Nothing that won’t scab over.”
The boy looked a little scorned at that, like he couldn’t imagine just letting an injury be. Just that rich, then.
“I like your sweater,” he said, seemingly on autopilot. Selina began picking at the sleeves instinctively. “Thanks,” she responded, eyeing him up and down for some hint at sarcasm. There was none.
He finally took a good look at her face, and his eyes widened. Selina immediately ducked away from the scrutiny. She knew what people thought of her: lip scarred and nose bent from pissing off a few too many assholes. They were the marks of the Gotham streets, and rich folk like him would’ve found them objectively detestable if she were any older.
“Woah,” he gasped, eyes wider than the googly ones she’d seen on baby toys. “You have scars?! That looks so cool!”
That almost startled a chuckle out of her. Cool? Seriously, how sheltered was this kid?!
“Wasn’t so cool to get them,” she sniped, and his face fell slightly. “What’re doing out here? You don’t look like a city kid.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I, uh, live a little away from here, yeah. It’s still in the Gotham area, just… more on the outskirts. We just came in to look around.”
Look around? Look around? Holy hell, what is with this kid?
Before she could very respectably ask what on earth his deal was, her stomach started rumbling. Right. Food. Still need that.
His eyes widened again, and right as he tried to say something a voice cut in from behind them.
“Master Bruce?”
“Oh, shit,” he muttered under his breath. He frantically searched through his pockets until he haphazardly pulled out a wad of cash and shoved it into her hands and Jeezus, how much money was this?!
“There,” he said hurriedly. “That should be enough for food, right? Oh, here!”
He shucked the uber-fancy coat and threw it around her shoulders.
“You look cold,” he tried to explain before a more impatient “Master Bruce!” cut through the air.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he managed to rush out as he ran. “Bye!”
Selina stared blankly at the empty alleyway in front of her, then at the unnaturally thick wad of cash in her hands as she desperately tried to parse what the fuck just happened.
***
“There you are,” Alfred sighed. “I was worried I’d lost you.”
“I’m ok, Alfred,” Bruce clipped. “Come on.”
Alfred frowned. Granted, he was getting older, but he was absolutely certain that Bruce was wearing a coat not 60 seconds ago. “What happened to your coat?”
Bruce froze, staring into the middle distance as if he was desperately trying to make what he was about so say even remotely believable.
“…I, uh, lost it.”
Alfred made a quite mmhmm noise as he glanced into the alleyway, at the young girl wearing Bruce’s coat and staring wide-eyed at the the money clasped tightly in her hands. Despite himself, he smiled.
“That’s a very bad habit of yours, sir,” he said curtly as he began walking along. Bruce immediately rushed to catch up alongside him. “One would think someone was stealing the things off your back.”
Bruce just looked confused. “Why would someone want to steal coats? Wouldn’t they just take the money from the pockets? It’s a lot easier.”
“Who knows with this city, Master Bruce. There could be a whole mafia trading in stolen coats.”
Bruce snorted. “I don’t think so, Alfred.”
“And do you know the inner workings of the coat mafia? I doubt they’d share their secrets to a boy such as yourself.”
Bruce argued vehemently against the existence of the coat mafia until they were back at the Manor, and not to toot his own horn, but he’s quite proud of the poker face he put on for the whole conversation. In his teasing, though, they had both forgotten about the girl in the alleyway.
But she wouldn’t forget. As she sat down in her little hide-out, sharing her giant bag of takeout with the strays, Selina knew she’d never forget the strange rich kid and his fancy coat.
And, years later, when the Batman finally lifted the cowl from his face in front of her, she was damn glad she didn’t.