Everyone knows my Father, the new Detective, James Gordon, although most people know him as Jim. He is one of he best detectives that there is, in my opinion.
After one of his most recent cases, I met Bruce Wayne, aka the Prince of Gotham. But bei...
After Dad dropped me back off at Barbara's penthouse, I helped Barbara sort out some of her old clothes that she no longer wanted. Obviously, I wouldn't fit in any of them yet, but I could either save some of them for when I was older or give them away.
The purpose of this? We were supposed to be going to an art gallery event at one of the local art galleries. Barbara owns an art gallery and they were having a small party.
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We'd spent a while getting ready and my Dad had just got back from work. He came and collapsed on to the sofa beside me.
"What you watching?" Dad asked, as he looked up at the tv.
"Harry Potter," I smiled.
"Again?" Dad asked, ruffling my hair.
"What do you mean 'again'? I was just finding something to do while we waited for you," I defended.
"What's tonight?" Dad asked confused.
"Barbara's art gallery thing," I reminded him.
"Oh, crap," Dad muttered, running a hand over his face.
Barbara then walked back in in her black dress.
"Wow," Dad smiled when he saw her.
"And look at you and your excellent suit," Barbara complimented, straightening his jacket. "You know, I'm so happy you don't have to wear that silly uniform anymore."
"You told me it looked good," Dad replied.
"I lied," Barbara smiled.
"Argh, get a room," I groaned, turning up the tv.
Dad and Barbara both chuckled.
"Don't you think Holly looks beautiful in her dress?" Barbara then turned the topic of conversation to me.
"Absolutely stunning," Dad said, making me roll my eyes at their attempt of changing the conversation.
"You two ready to rock and roll?" Barbara asked, going to get her jacket.
"Uh..." Dad sighed, sending me a side glance. "Barbara, I'm beat. Do we really have to go to this thing?"
Barbara paused for a minute before giving him a small smile. "No, of course not," Barbara sighed.
"Thank you," Dad smiled.
"You owe me," Barbara replied.
Taking advantage of Barbara and Dad's silence, I leant back in the sofa and looked over at my dad.
"So... how's the Wayne case going?" I asked.
"Not good. Not good at all. I made a promise to Bruce Wayne and I can't deliver," Dad answered, sitting down next to me.
