You picked up the small container from your vanity, squinting at the label on it. You put this stuff on your face nearly every other day, but you didn't even know what was in it! Maybe it was important. It would be worth knowing, it was your face it would affect after all. What if there were harmful chemicals in it? What about toxins? It was time to be educated. You cleared your throat, focusing in on the ingredient list.
"Ethano....ethano-lay-meen? Ethano-la...Ethanolamine?"
You suddenly remembered you weren't a chemist. You were barely able to pronounce that chemical, and you were much less knowledgeable on what it actually did.
'Well that was hardly helpful.'
You shrugged and twisted the top off the container, scooping a generous amount of clay on to your fingers. You leaned on your vanity, watching your face in the mirror closely as you did your best to evenly distribute it on your skin.
You woke up early this morning (for once), giving yourself a couple free hours before work. And you intended on using those hours to pamper yourself. Your hair was wrapped neatly in a towel around your head, and you had your softest robe on. The radio was tuned to your favorite station, you had a pot of tea heating up on the stove, and you had some toast and jam waiting for you on your kitchen table. You sighed in contentment, when a devious thought popped into your mind...
The only thing that would make this morning even better was a little cigarette.
You grinned. You made sure to only smoke when you really felt like you deserved it. And you did. Hell, your feet were completely calloused from standing for hours in heels at Pogo's. One cigarette wouldn't hurt.
You rubbed your hands together in excitement and skittered over to your purse, digging out the box of Marlboros and accompanying lighter.
'Voila!'
However, there was one problem - you didn't want the smell of cigarettes stinking up your place. And judging by your current outfit, you weren't exactly ready to go for a walk.
'Hm... Ah!'
You had a brilliant idea. You made your way to the only window in your apartment and quickly pushed it open, the cold air whipping your skin. You shuddered at the dramatic temperature change, pondering for a moment if smoking on your fire escape balcony was a good plan.
'Ah, fuck it.'
You grabbed the window frame, carefully pushing yourself through it. First, your head. Then, your shoulders. So far, so good. You just needed to reach out to the balcony railing to give yourself some leverage and all would be well...
Unfortunately, you forgot to clean the facial mask off your other hand. As you reached out, your grip slipped. Your eyes widened, you were barely able to make a sound. Your arms flailed wildy, trying to get a grip somewhere, but finding nothing.
You braced for impact as you fell out of the window, your body hitting the balcony floor with a loud, metallic CLANG! You groaned, rolling on to your side in pain. Your cigarette rolled out of your hand, and fell through the steel grating under you.
'Well, looks like the good luck train has left. Back to reality.'
You winced as you pushed yourself up, not realizing how much damage that tumble had done.
There was a shuffling from the balcony beneath yours, your drop clearly startling whoever was there. You looked down to find an alarmed Arthur looking back up at you.
"Good morning, neighbor," you heaved as you struggled to pull yourself up.
Arthur quickly made his way up the steel steps, wasting no time. He knelt down beside you as soon as he reached you, taking your arms and helping you up despite your protest.
"Arthur, please. Thank you, but I'm fine. Really," you assured.
He looked you up and down, scanning you for injuries.
"You're bleeding," he said in the most serious tone you've ever heard him speak in. He pulled his way through your window hastily, and turned to you. He held his arms out, ready to help you in.
"Bleeding? This is ridiculous. I'm not bleeding. I just fell." Arthur looked past you, and stared at the balcony railing. You looked at him in confusion, before seeing what he was looking at - a small area of grating was red with blood.
"What... I didn't even... How did..." you stammered, before feeling something drip down the side of your neck. Your hand instinctively went up, trying to find the source. You winced, feeling a sizeable gash in your scalp. You realized you must have sliced it on the railing during your descent.
"Come," Arthur directed, reaching his arms out even more. You nodded, hanging on to him as he pulled you inside.
You were surprised by how much you were bleeding, considering how little the cut hurt in comparison. You sat on your bed, watching as Arthur rushed around your apartment looking for a first aid kit.
"Under the bathroom sink!" you called out.
He dropped whatever he was searching and rushed to the bathroom, stumbling as he did. It made you smile, knowing someone in Gotham actually cared about you this much. He was a good neighbor.
He finally made his way back to you, panting as he tried to catch his breath.
"You know, I'm not dying Arthur," you joked, trying to loosen him up.
He didn't seem to hear you, as he placed the kit on the bed and began rustling through it.
You cleared your throat. "Hello, Earth to Arthur?"
Suddenly, his face was right next to yours. He was so close you could practically feel his breath on your cheek. You looked away from him, puzzled, your face beginning to redden.
"Uh..."
He brought his hand up, tilting your head to the side as he closely inspected your wound. He softly pressed a wet cloth to it, cleaning off the excess blood.
"Okay. This part is gonna sting a little," he said softly, pressing an alcohol wipe against the cut. Your face scrunched up, the sting was a little worse than you expected.
"Agh!" You pulled away, the bite of the alcohol being a bit too much.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's almost done," Arthur reassured, pressing the wipe into the cut again. You sighed, taking the pain as best as you could. He finally finished up, leaving some ointment on it.
"Okay," he breathed, standing up straight and wiping his forehead. "All better now."
You smiled up at him, and glanced towards your bedside mirror. And just like that, your smile vanished just as quickly as it came.
The towel around your head was gone (you assumed it was pulled off by the railing when you took your tumble). Your wet hair was pointed in every direction, completely matted in the area you cut your scalp. Your face mask was now imprinted with the grid of the grating from the balcony. And on TOP of that, there was dry blood all over the base of your neck. You raised your eyebrows.
"Jeeze..." you began, cringing at the sight of yourself. "This is not how I envisioned your first visit at my place."
Arthur grinned, scratching his head. "I'm just glad you're okay." He sighed, and began heading towards your door.
"I'll let you continue your morning now."
You shook your head. "No, no, no. Where do you think you're going?" You stood from your bed, wincing a bit from your newfound soreness.
Arthur turned back towards you, confused. You were about to continue speaking, when you noticed his pajamas. You never really got a good look at his body, now that you thought of it. Every time you had seen him, he was wearing layers of sweaters and jackets. But this time, he wasn't.
He was wearing loose sleeping pants and a somewhat tight long sleeve shirt. The closer you inspected him, the more concerned you grew. The man was practically skin and bones. His ribs were clearly visible for starters. Every segment of his spine stuck out like the edges of a saw. Hell, his shoulders were clear cut angles with practically no roundness to them.
You thought about saying something. But you didn't. You knew it would hurt his self esteem.
Arthur looked side to side, not understanding your sudden silence.
You shook yourself out of your train of thought, trying to conceal your worry. You put on the brightest smile you could.
"I was gonna say... You can't just leave after helping me out so much. At least let me treat you to some breakfast."
He shook his head, "No, I couldn't . You already paid for so much the other night. I'm just paying you back."
You put your hands on your hips, unwilling to back down. "Well then now we're even, so you can have breakfast with me."
Arthur smiled, holding his palms up and feigning defeat. "You got me there."
After cleaning yourself up and setting your small kitchen table, you and Arthur spent the morning together, drinking tea and eating a considerable amount of toast with jam.
It was fun, and incredibly therapeutic. You vented to him about all you frustrations. Your job, your income, your apartment (which he empathized very much with), learning to assimilate into Gotham culture, and your fears of disappointing your parents. All of it was laid out on the table. Arthur never interrupted you. He listened closely, never switching the topic or giving the impression that his mind was elsewhere. It was like a breath of fresh air, having someone who was invested in the conversation, who just... cared.
Once you were finished, it was Arthur's turn. You shared much more frustrations with him than you thought you did. He ALSO had crappy coworkers, nor was he happy with his apartment. He struggled to keep his mom happy and healthy. And although he lived here most of his life, he wasn't very fond of Gotham (or the people in it) either.
"But honestly..." he continued, taking a sip from his mug. "Just talking about it with you now has already made me feel better. I have a person that I talk to, but..." he trailed off, looking out the window.
"But what?"
Arthur shrugged. "I don't know, I think people doing social work in Gotham have too much on their plate to care about their clients. I don't blame them."
You nodded, staring into your cup of tea. Arthur had a lot more on his plate than you initially thought. No wonder he was so thin, he barely has enough time on his hands to even think about food. You sighed, bringing your cup to your lips.
"Wait, what time is it?"
Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Um... 12 I think."
"Crap, I better start getting ready for work," you groaned. You stood from your seat, walking Arthur to the door.
"This was nice," you said, smiling as you turned the doorknob.
Arthur grinned. "Yeah, it was."
You watched him exit, feeling your energy begin to grow faint. You felt strange admitting it, but you really enjoyed his company, knowing this visit was over was sad. You knew you would see him around Pogo's again but his visits were becoming less and less frequent. You leaned on the doorframe, trying to think.
You tightened your lips, unsure whether you were making the right decision or not.
"Hey Arthur?"
He turned around, just before he entered the apartment stair case. "Yeah?"
"You should come over for breakfast in the mornings. That sound good?"
He paused for a moment. He stared at you, as if he was contemplating what to say.
You shook your head, "Sorry, sorry. Was that weird? It was weird, wasn't it? Yeah, just pretend I didn't say that-"
"No, that sounds good," Arthur finally responded. He was doing that "cool guy" voice again. It made you smile.
"See you tomorrow then?"
"Yeah."
"Cool," you said, imitating him. "Bye then."
"Later."
After closing the staircase door, you could hear him loudly whispering "Yes! Yes!" to himself, and a couple loud THUMPS that you assumed were caused by him jumping down the stairs. You giggled, closing your apartment door.
'Silly clown.'
A/N - TRICKS ARE FOR KIDS. anyways-
AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH BREAKFAST WITH ARTHUR AAAAAAAHHHHH I FUCKING LOVE HIM