ANGELS WEEP || bruce wayne

the seventeenth

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"Stacey! Angelo mio! Good to see you!"

Lorenzo stood on the sidewalk, ushering a man with a long bandage on his calf into a taxi before closing in on the entrance of the alley where Stacey was standing.

"Don't give me that, Lorenzo." She pushed herself off the brick, taking a firmer stance as she crossed her arms. "You're the informant, aren't you? For my father?"

The smile completely dropped from Lorenzo's face. His once friendly and welcoming demeanor vanished, replaced with a cold, begrudging respect. Stacey had seen this look in the men who interacted with her father; it was chilling to see it reflected in someone she trusted.

Lorenzo nodded. "Perhaps we should talk in private?" He glanced to the dark alleyway.

"This is private enough." Stacey countered.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes. "Don't try to trick me, Tacey. You think I haven't seen your little pipistrello friend before?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

They stood in a tense silence, both too stubborn to back down. Maybe it was their Italian blood, or maybe it was something else.

Then, Lorenzo let out a loud, booming laugh.

"You are your father's daughter, all right. C'mon, let's go inside. And you can invite your friend too. I did help him inside your house, you know, and I'm not afraid of a little pipistrello who thinks he owns Gotham."

Lorenzo made his way towards the door, leaving it open behind him for her to follow.

Behind her, Batman melted out of the shadows of the alley, laying a thickly gloved hand on her arm in a surprisingly tender gesture. "Do you want me to follow?"

Stacey tilted her head. "Do I need a witness?"

"No. But if you feel unsafe..."

"I trust him. He's been helpful to me so far."

Bruce nodded, his eyes raw beneath his mask. "I'll watch from the opposite roof. And, Tace-" He grabbed her arm as she started to walk away, whispering into her hair: "I'll come gather you after he leaves. I don't want you sleeping here tonight."

She tilted her head.

"You just announced yourself to the whole underworld, Tace. And your father had many enemies."

She tore her arm from his gentle grip. "I am not my father."

He held back a response, merely nodding. Stubborn Italians. 

"I'll be there when he leaves."

She nodded, her back turned to him as she headed towards the door.

Something about it hollowed out the hole in his chest, and he had to restrain himself from chasing after her even after the door closed.

The click of the door sounded out behind her, and the full weight of the night weighed down on Stacey like she was Atlas balancing the world on his shoulders.

Sliding her shoes off, she made her way upstairs to the balcony, where she knew Lorenzo would be waiting.

The only sound was her shuffling as she climbed the stairs; the tip! of the screen door closing behind her alerting Lorenzo to her presence.

He turned, tapping the chair beside him with a fat, tanned hand and beckoning her to join him.

"I come outside so that your little friend can see I mean no harm." His accent was thicker than before. His finger pointed to the rooftop ahead of them to a haze silhouette against the rising red sun. "Can he hear us?"