Gods & Monsters | Bruce Wayne

SEVEN - TABLE FOR FOUR

"You know you're supposed to knock, right?"

Carla was sat with her head resting on her palm in her office, millions of papers strewn across her desk and pinned to a cork board hung up on the wall. Filing cabinets were pulled open and there were stacks of case files three feet high either side of the desk, the room feeling suffocatingly small now the sun had been masked by a cloud.

Jonathan Crane walked into Carla's office with a smile on his face, hands behind his back. He wore a grey suit that day and his glasses framed his face, hair swept across his forehead and eyes just as bright blue as always.

He looked like he was up to something, and when it came to Jonathan, that was usually true. The smile playing on his lips held something of mischief and his eyes sparkled, a tilt of his head and the way he rocked back and forth on his heels for a few seconds suggesting that Carla's assumption was probably right.

"You didn't tell me it was your birthday."

From behind his back, Jonathan held up a chocolate chip cupcake with a single lit candle burning in the middle, grinning as he placed it down on her desk.

Carla just stared at it, looking up at him as if to say, really?

"I didn't tell anyone it was my birthday, don't take it personally."

He rolled his eyes and pushed the cupcake forward with a flick of his fingers, "Just blow the damn thing out and make a wish, would you?"

Carla did as she was told, at least partly. She pursed her lips and blew out the candle, though made no wish inside her head. She tossed the candle into the trash and peeled the case away from the sweet treat, taking a bite before dusting crumbs from her hands.

"Not bad."

"You know what else isn't bad?" Jonathan said, pulling off his glasses as he perched on the edge of her desk that wasn't covered in papers, "The steak frites at Dorsia."

Carla put down the pen that she'd been twirling around in her hands with a sigh, sitting back in her leather chair with arms crossed and a shake of her head.

"No."

"Yes."

"No, Jonathan. I have way too much work to do."

"The world won't end if you go out to dinner. You do know that, right? And it's a special occasion."

Carla huffed, "Turning thirty-two is not a special occasion."

"Says who?"

"Me. Can you get out? I'm busy."

Jonathan just smirked as he stood up, "Reservation is at eight-thirty."

Carla arrived home at seven o'clock that evening. Jonathan hadn't let their dinner plans drop for the rest of the day, muttering to her to not be late every time they passed each other in the hallway.

She liked Jonathan, but she understood why a lot of people didn't. He was cold and calculating, overly confident and cocky with a charm that stirred people the wrong way sometimes. Carla happened to be used to the type of man that Jonathan was, however, which made working alongside him easy most of the time.

The concierge smiled at her when she walked in from the cold, rushing out from behind his desk with his arms full. A bouquet of white lilies were wrapped in brown parcel paper in one arm and a cardboard box was wedged in the other, barely able to see over the heads of the flowers as he approached her.

"These came for you today. Would you like me to bring them up for you, Doctor Fiori?"

"I'm good, thank you. Let me take those."