Fawkes

Trust No One

"So what's your favourite genre of music, Batsy?" I flipped through the multiple radio channels, my feet finding their way to the dashboard despite Bruce's many warnings, "You seem like a heavy metal guy, but sometimes I get soft rock vibes from you."

He sighed, "I don't listen to much music in my free time."

"Really." I feigned surprise, "Not even opera? The ballet? I feel like you'd like the Nutcracker."

"I've seen the Nutcracker." His eyes remained on the road.

"And?"

"Not my thing."

"Well shit." I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation, "How about punk?"

"No."

"Classical?"

"No."

"Indie?"

"No."

"I've got it." I nodded, turning to glance at him, "Jazz."

"I'll turn this car around."

"That's not a no." I grinned, turning my head to look out the window as we entered Uptown Gotham. We were on our way for my visit with Alfred, and my spirits were way up.

"So you never told me about your opinion on my new hair." I curled a strand around my finger, "It's like, what do I have to do to get your attention these days? I can no longer attempt to escape the confines of your mansion so you're forced to not ignore me, now I have to go to extreme lengths. And even then, you haven't said anything."

"I think it ruins your stealth and will jeopardize missions."

"Pffft." I scoffed, "Please. I could wear reflective gear and bash the cymbals together and still beat anyone coming my way."

"Not me," he said smugly, and I narrowed my eyes.

"One day, Brucie." I looked back out the front window, "One day."

"Mhm." He nodded, "Feet off my dash or you won't live to see 'one day'."

I rolled my eyes and took my feet off the pristine interior, leaning back in my seat and striking up another ridiculous conversation.

Soon enough, we entered the gates of the Manor, and Bruce's sleek car pulled to a stop at the part of the roundabout closest to the front door.

"I'll be back in an hour. No funny business."

"Wouldn't dream of it." I winked at him before hopping out of his car and heading to the front door, not bothering to knock.

The mansion looked exactly how I'd left it, and it was a strange sense of security being back inside. I smiled at all the memories just from the front entrance, like that time I climbed onto the chandelier or the time I broke Bruce's mom's vase.

I made my way to the kitchen, and my heart leapt when I saw Alfred wiping down the counter. In his natural habitat, he looked peaceful and comfortable. I realized how much I had missed him, and relief flooded over me when I saw his face.

He didn't seem to hold the same reaction.

"You dyed your hair," he stated the obvious when he noticed my presence, glancing up at me before continuing the task at hand.

"I forgot how great of a detective you are," I responded, walking over to sit on one of the stools.

He just hummed in response, and a pit settled in my stomach. Was he angry with me? Did he not read my letter?