After logging off AIM and shutting down her computer, Clara Summers paced anxiously around her apartment. What was she doing?! What had she been thinking?! Well... that answered it right there, didn’t it? She, obviously, had not really been thinking. At least not rationally. Yeah, she was genuinely interested in and attracted to Bruce Wayne. There were precious few women in Gotham who weren’t. Sure, the flirting, innuendos, and lewd insinuations had been fun. They both seemed on the same maturity level in that respect. Yes, she had agreed to go to dinner with him at some point before the party. It was polite to get to know your date before such an event. And, alright, she had even accepted the invitation to come to Bruce’s 30th birthday bash as his date for the night. It was a great opportunity personally, socially, and even politically. But, this?! Going to his place at 3 o’clock in the morning?! This was just plain madness! But, of course, these were called ‘second thoughts’ for a reason. They came after the ball had been set rolling. For instance, Bruce was already on his way and Clara had neither the means nor the guts to contact him and tell him she had changed her mind and that she would prefer to get her paperwork done. Which was, at this point, actually half true. If anyone saw them it could get so bad.

Moving to the window, Clara shook herself mentally. She just needed to view this as another challenge, to see if she had the guts to go through with it. And, as most people know, Clara can’t resist a challenge. Which was part of the reason she was running for DA, believe it or not. She had been considering it for a while, but it wasn’t until her cousin had bluntly said that Clara would never truly follow her father’s footsteps that she made an official decision on the matter. Vowing to stay far away from the disgraceful hippie-style path her estranged older sister had taken. Clara began to emulate her father, who had been an esteemed lawyer in his own right and had even ran for the office of District Attorney in his younger years. From early childhood, Clara Summers took after her father. She may have had her mother’s facial features and hair color, but their similarities ended there. Clara had her father’s expressive, chilling blue eyes, his ever-moving mind, his attention-demanding presence, and even his self-confident mannerisms of daily life from walking to speaking and everything in between. Fortunately, Clara had gained a moderate amount of wisdom and sensibility from her mother that helped to curb her reckless streak in most situations... to a point. It would seem that her good sense had taken the night off tonight...

The sound of a loud, powerful engine simultaneously pulled Clara from her reverie and caused her stomach to clench anxiously. Not only was she a bit nervous about the up-and-coming encounter with Bruce, but she wasn’t exactly fond of fast cars either. When she saw the car pull up in front of her place, Clara picked up her keys and tucked them into her purse as she flicked the lights off. So far so good, she thought as she got into the car. This was, of course, mere moments before a flashbulb went off a short distance away. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought back the urge to chase the punk down and break his camera over his head. No.... it wouldn’t do to take that kind of action, although it would be fun. Clara could only hope that the photo never saw the light of day. But, rather than dwell on it, Clara tried to make light of the whole situation. “I hope he got my good side,” she quipped, looking over just in time to catch the mischievous grin Bruce was giving her. “Hold on? To what?” she teased, “A rosary, my lunch, or both?”

Clara had her question quickly answered when Bruce put his foot down on the accelerator. Had she been the kind to express fear openly, Clara would have gasped as she shut her eyes tight and leaned back against the seat. Alternately, had she been a firm believer, she might have clasped either a rosary or a cross tightly in one hand while uttering a quiet prayer. As she was neither, Clara simply sat back and tried to give the impression that she was enjoying this as much as Bruce clearly was. Thankfully, the ride was brief and Clara felt a surge of relief that she hoped didn’t show on her face when they pulled into the parking spot. So, chivalry isn’t fully dead yet, Clara thought with a gentle smile as Bruce came around to open her door. “Probably for the best,” she said, “Lest the, how did you put it earlier, crazy batfiend decided to swoop down on us.” Her tone was serious, but her smile and eyes told the tale of amusement.

Silence never really bothered Clara, so when they lapsed into silence in the elevator she was perfectly (mostly) at ease. But, she found Bruce’s uneasiness at the silence rather discomfiting. As she shifted and fiddled, Clara made a point of not watching him in an effort not to add to his discomfort. Sure, all the implications indicated in previous (online) conversations hung in the air, but they were both adults and more than capable of making their own decisions. Still, the atmosphere in the elevator was anything but comfortable. Hoping the rest of the night (or should it be morning?) went better, Clara wondered if they would actually find anything to say to each other. She bit her lip gently as she stepped through the door to his lovely little rhyme. She gave Bruce a quick grin. “I wasn’t aware that you were given to quoting poetry,” she teased gently. Well, it wasn’t much, but it was a start at least...

Clara wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she was in his apartment after all those suggestive remarks and innuendos that was making Bruce seem so uncomfortable. But, she had a sneaking suspicion that that fact was only part of the problem. She was willing to bet that the other part of the problem was political. After all, he was a wealthy and influential bachelor in this city, and she was a candidate in the running for the office of District Attorney. It wasn’t exactly the smartest pairing in the world. After all, if news of this late night visit got out Bruce would most likely be branded a supporter of Clara’s, even if he wasn’t, and Clara would get burned politically by her opponents with remarks of how she could clean up Gotham from the bedroom and other such things. So... yeah... this was, in short, easily political suicide for the pair of them should it ever get out. And yet, here they were, both knowing the stakes for themselves and each other. Here they were, acting as if none of that could ever happen and that it didn’t matter. Oh, but it did matter. Maybe not on the surface, but deep down it mattered, to both of them. Clara was almost 100% positive of that fact. And yet, they both chose to ignore that little voice in the back of their minds telling them that maybe this wasn’t the world’s brightest idea. But, hell, she was a person too, with needs of her own. She couldn’t be a perfect angel simply because that’s what people expected of her...

She pulled her mind out of yet another reverie was Bruce spoke again. She couldn’t help but smile as he stumbled over himself, finally admitting he didn’t quite know what he wanted to say. She was almost surprised, since most people of status tended to just leave sentences hanging when they didn’t know what to say. Her smile widened when Bruce even managed to laugh at his own confusion. There was certainly more to this man than met the eye... or the tabloid papers. Hah. “You know...” she said slowly, a tiny glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “You’re awful cute when you’re confused and backtracking.” Her words and tone were both gentle. She was teasing, but she wasn’t about to get mean or anything. She honestly thought he was adorable when he was stumbling over his words. She just hoped she was as cute when she did the same, since she knew it was going to come at some point or another.

When he offered her a drink, Clara simply shook her head. “Nothing for me, thanks,” she said, deciding that leaving her anxiously jumping stomach empty might be a very smart thing to do at this point. “I had over two liters of water today, I think I’m good on the liquid intake.” Yeah... it was simply one of those weird things about Clara. She might not always eat the healthiest, but she made sure she drank at least two liters of water everyday. It made her feel a bit better about herself, knowing that she was working to flush all sorts of toxins from her body. Still... staying up all night wasn’t exactly healthy, was it? No... it wasn’t. Oh well... she’d take a few days off work next week under the impression of doing some campaign work and catch on some sleep then.

Surreptitiously trying to look around without looking like she was staring or nosing, Clara’s eyes snapped back to Bruce when he spoke again. She then resisted the urge to snort with laughter as Bruce began laying down the options. It all sounded entertaining, except for the politics. Bleh... at this hour? That was sure to put her right to sleep. And... well... while the getting drunker than hell sounded fun, it would probably lead to god-only-knew what and probably a few things they’d regret. “Options one and two sound alright,” she said with a wry grin. “Option four is a no go, considering I recall coming over here to avoid work. And, as for option three... well... you assumed I’m not actually that type of person. For all you really know, I am that type of person and am disappointed to find that you’re not, or are at least pretending not to be.” Again she was teasing gently. It was her natural defense... but defense is sort of a harsh word to use. It was just what she did. If something was uncomfortable, Clara always tried to lighten the mood a bit by joking around. Never mean, always gentle, just wanting to get a smile or other favorable reaction from the other person(s) in the room.

Clara was rather used to people staring at her. After all, she worked with convicts, some of whom were rapists and the like, and none of them had any qualms about openly staring at her. But, when it was coming from someone like Bruce, and Clara was sure he wasn’t even fully aware he was doing it, it made her feel just a little bit uncomfortable. She almost had to bite her tongue when her usual reaction of snapping: “See something you like or are you just too stupid to blink?” came to mind. It generally worked in the court room, but that was when she was dealing with the scum of the city. Here, she chose to blatantly ignore it.

Clara was so intent on ignoring Bruce for a moment that she almost jumped when he spoke again. She realized she probably looked foolish, standing there by the door. She couldn’t help it. This wasn’t her place, so she didn’t feel comfortable just plunking her butt down wherever. Nodding in response to his invitation to sit, Clara lowered herself onto the nearest chair and crossed her legs, right over left, leaving her right foot free to move around to keep her legs from getting too restless.

Bruce’s surprise at the amount of water she drank amused Clara immensely. He had clearly never seen her in court, with her massive one liter Aquafina water bottle sitting just beside her briefcase. Normal days in the office didn’t stress her out, so she sometimes had to force herself to drink even one liter. But, of course, in the court room, with the tension running through her and her expending every last ounce of energy she had to get her point across left her feeling strung out and dehydrated. That and the court room was notoriously stuffy with very stale, dry air. On a long court day Clara had been known to drink up to three liters of water in a single afternoon. She hated feeling dehydrated, even just a tiny bit. It gave her a massive headache and her throat stuck together making it hard to speak. And when futures hang on the words you have to say, you’d best be able to make them come out and not sound like a caveman when you do it. “Generally, on a good day,” she replied, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. “When I’m in court I can drink up to three or four liters, depending on how long I’m in there.”

“And, no, I am not training for a marathon,” Clara continued, watching as Bruce chose to sit on the edge of his bed. The lawyer side of her calculated the distance carefully. He was close, but not too close, as though he wasn’t sure where the edge of her personal space with him was and didn’t want to impose. And yet, he was close enough that it didn’t give an impression of standoffishness or disinterest. A rather political choice, she noted, but appropriate given the situation. “I simply believe in doing my body some good by making sure I help in any way I can to flush out any of the toxins that enter my body. It’s a good habit to get into, and it’s a nice protection against hangovers. The more water you drink around the time you consume alcohol, the less severe your hangover will be since a hangover is basically your body’s way of letting you know that you’re seriously dehydrated.” So, maybe she wasn’t the most clever person in the world, but Clara did have plenty of little random bits of knowledge (mostly about home remedies) stored up in her head amongst the dusty filing cabinets from law school.

As Bruce spoke again and leaned forward, trying to portray a more confident image, Clara watched him closely. She wondered just how far she could throw him off his game. The mere fact that few things made her truly uncomfortable and left her feeling awkward and vulnerable certainly gave her an advantage in most situations. This one seemed no different. When he paused, Clara took that opportunity to put her feet flat on the floor and mirror his pose, the slightest glint of mischief forming in her eyes as an impish smile stretched across her face. “And by defying labels you serve only to put another label on yourself,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m all for not labeling people and prefer not to be labeled myself, but the fact is: in our society anyone and everyone has some sort of label, be it good or bad. My biggest problem with labels is that more often than not, they’re put on us by the people who know us the least. If my family or close friends were to say: Clara, oh yeah. She’s this kind of person. Or, she’s that kind of person. I’d have no problem with that, because they know me. But, as I said, most often the people doing the labeling are the people that know the least about who they’re trying to label.”

She watched as he gently traced the drops of condensation on the surface of the glass. Her lips curved into a bemused smile as he mentioned the truth or dare again. Jeez... it had been years since she played that. If she remembered correctly, the last time she had truly played truth or dare was when she was eighteen... hammered out of her mind on the night of her high school graduation. Again the lawyer in her roared to life. She was accustomed to asking the questions that put people on the spot. When questioned herself, Clara often answered with another question. The first one that came to mind in this situation was: What do you want to know? That always threw people, because no one really wanted to ask for specifics. But, what came next really shocked Clara, though she worked to keep it off her face. He offered a few bits of information first. This was a different sort of interrogation tactic. Gah... there she went again, being a lawyer first and a human second. This was no interrogation; this was two people trying to get to know each other a little bit. Well, a little truth went a long way, right? After all, he was being very frank with his information. No one said something like that as a lie. Besides... Clara was good at telling when people were being less than truthful, and she didn’t get any hint that Bruce was being anything less than perfectly honest with her.

Clara held her head slightly off to one side when she spoke, as though she was about to trail off into her own thoughts. Now was no different as her head took on that familiar, barely-there tilt as she drew a breath to speak. “I’m Clara,” she started, figuring the same basics would be a good place to start. “I’m 29 going on 30, and I honestly don’t mind that half the people I talk to know little more than my name and political standings. I’m a natural blonde and never wanted to be anything other than a lawyer. I don’t like to fight, but I’m not afraid to bleed. I wish I had more musical talent, but don’t really have the time to devote to it right now. I sometimes think I enjoy my job too much, and I am deathly afraid of jellyfish.” She paused and spread her hands out as if to say: There it is. “I think that about covers the basics, unless there was something more specific you had in mind that I didn’t mention.”

Clara simply raised her eyebrows with a bit a grin and a shrug at his comment about legal proceedings. Her head was tilted the other direction as she watched Bruce as he spoke. Her eyes were calm and hardly stayed in one place for very long, though they did snap to lock onto Bruce’s eyes when he listed the few labels that he had. “Entrepreneur,” she said slowly, watching him carefully. “That one I can see easily enough. The only place I see reckless applying is in your instant message conversations.” She flashed him a teasing grin with that one. “And... I think I’ll just leave the last one alone.”

Clara watched people when they spoke. It was an inborn trait she had picked up from her father, like so many other things. When she was young she would gaze up at her father and watch him speak, almost starry eyed. Now, years and skepticism tended marked her gaze when she looked at people. If she didn’t like you or didn’t know quite what to make of you, Clara had a habit of always looking at you sideways, with her eyes narrowed every so slightly. It was very easy to tell when someone exasperated Clara. She tended to start by putting one hand on her forehead then drag it over her eyes. She then pulled it further down, just until her eyes were visible over the top of her hand. She would then proceed to stare incredulously at the person who was doing the exasperating. It was a look that Rodney Ackerman knew far too well. But, since he was most often her opponent in court, he had just learned to get over it. Yes, it’s true, if you know Clara you can almost immediately tell how she feels about someone just by the way she looks when she watches them talk. For instance, any one of Clara’s friends could walk into the room right now and tell that she was caught between emotions on Bruce. Her posture mirrored his, almost in some sort of challenge, but she was noticeably relaxed so it was a more of a mock challenge, almost like kids would do. Yet, her eyes were moderately guarded simply because she just didn’t really know Bruce all that well. She looked straight at him when they interchanged words and it was apparent that nothing he said made her want to throw things... which is actually an accomplishment. Clara had little patience for idiots and always made it very clear. If she had even thought for an instant that Bruce was nothing more than a rich playboy looking for some easy action, she would have probably not even bothered with him online.

She was slightly taken aback at his blunt statement about his deciding what kind of person she was. Unsure quite how to respond to that statement, Clara kept her gaze level. He seemed to be watching her, but Clara wasn’t quite sure what he expected to see. As he continued, Clara sat back in the chair. She crossed her right leg over her left again and folded her arms across her lap. It was neither a hostile or a defensive position. Again, if any of her friends were around, they would tell you that Bruce had managed to say something that surprised Clara. Her face hadn’t changed at all, but the simple change in posture belied the unexpectedness of the comment. As Bruce continued to speak, about what type of person he was, Clara closed her eyes briefly. It was barely longer than a typical blink, but long enough that anyone paying attention would notice. It was the sort of expression most people gave as they felt the first pangs of a headache. Clara hated when people spoke about themselves in third person. It seemed so... arrogant, so... assuming, so... archaic. But, for some reason it wasn’t quite as annoying when Bruce did it. The distance in his eyes and voice made it almost seem as though it truly was someone else speaking through his mouth. Weird, Clara thought, but not totally unusual. She had seen her fair share of people who weren’t all there. Not that she thought Bruce was some sort of schizoid or anything...

At the mention of riding style, Clara dropped her forehead into her hand with a soft chuckle. She then half-lifted her head, peering at Bruce from under her hand, the slightest of blushes creeping up her face. “Why did I have a feeling that was going to come up at one point or another?” she shot back teasingly, pushing her hair back off her now pink-tinged face. And then he just continued on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Touché for him. He finally had her on the uncomfortable side of things while he was clearly in his element. An amused, yet slightly puzzled smile crossed Clara’s face as Bruce shifted around on his bed. She simply wasn’t quite sure what to think of this new, hysterical, yet classically immature pose.

She allowed her gaze to follow the sweep of his hand around the apartment. She wasn’t quite sure what he referring to, but she assumed that it could merely be the sum of all things and the penthouse itself. It made enough sense. Not many kids think of growing up to be a wealthy, debonair businessman with more money than they knew what to do with. The sum of most kids dreams were to be a vet, or a firefighter, or something else of that nature. Ah... how quickly such dreams vanished when they learned of the hard work it would take to get there and the even harder decisions to be made once there...

She was jolted back from yet another one of her frequent reveries by the soft spluttering as Bruce tried not to drown on his drink. He seemed to recover nicely, so Clara pretended she hadn’t noticed anything. He was finally beginning to truly relax, and she didn’t want to spoil it by horribly embarrassing him. It then took the same willpower not to snort in laughter at his cocky afterthought and wink. It was no less than she had expected of him. “Well... I think I can refrain from naming you, seeing as you are so far down my list,” she shot back jokingly. “I would honestly have to say that my biggest celebrity crush would have to be... George Clooney.” She finished with a bit of a sigh. That man certainly was dreamy. He looked good in just about anything...

This was easily not the type of encounter Clara had thought it would be. To be perfectly honest, she had absolutely no idea what to expect when she had accepted Bruce’s invite over. But, she was willing to bet that having an almost immature game of truth or dare did not exactly enter the realm of what she thought believable. Well... neither did a discussion about their biggest celebrity crushes. After all.... that was so... so... high school girly sleepover. But, the fact that she found it easy to be perfectly open and honest with him was almost a miracle in and of itself. And, so far he seemed to be at general ease with being open and honest with her. And it was a good thing too... Clara wasn’t sure she had what it took to call his bluff should he choose to make one. Oh lord.... he wouldn’t try that... would he? Would he bluff something just to see if she called him on it? That would be a nasty thing to do. She was a lawyer, an expert on catching lies and dragging them out in the open. Even so, Clara wasn’t sure she had enough to call him on it. Not yet anyway... not yet.

Another question was, should she choose at any time to bluff, would he recognize it. And, assuming he did, would he call her on it? Looking at him now, Clara decided that he probably would. He seemed the type that would call her, even if he wasn’t 100% sure she was bluffing, just to see how she would react to it. That could get interesting....

But, all the same, it was nice to have the conversation. One did tire of berating idiots on the witness stand all the time, and the words passed between colleagues in the office could only be called conversation by the most generous of stretches. Talking of nothing but work and politics on downtime was not cool. Not by a long shot. Clara didn’t have many people she could do... well... this... with. These random conversations were the best things sometimes, and Clara missed them. But... she didn’t realize just how much until just now. Now that she realized just how much she enjoyed random conversations, Clara made a mental note to find a way to have them more often. But she would be sure to keep them like this one... away from the work and politics scene. She got enough of that at work and all that jazz. She did need some time away from it, despite what everyone else seemed to think.

Clara laughed as he pretended to be offended that he had been beaten out of her top spot by George Clooney. “Oh, honey,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve had one of the world’s biggest crushes on that man since I was 14. Everyone has taken second place to him ever since then. And I do mean everyone. Attainable or not.” She paused for a moment, trying to decide whether or not that sounded really bad, as if she would take no less than George Clooney. Well... maybe this was the choicest of subjects for them after all. Hah. “But, I mean, that’s a list compiled of purely superficial rankings, based on looks and style. When it comes down to it, a man has got to have a personality. And a sense of humor. A bit of a romantic at heart, but not mushy. Like I said... he’s got to have personality. Good looks would be a definite bonus, but they’re no deciding factor in it for me. After all... not everyone can be as gorgeous as the actors, which is why they’re so popular... and fun to look at.”

Ok... she had been expecting him to ask where he fell on her list. She really had. It was inevitable, after all, wasn’t it? He assumed himself up to her standards enough to be one it, and she hadn’t discouraged this line of thinking either, so it was only natural for him to be curious as to how he stacked up to others. But... how to respond? It’s not like her list was something she thought about everyday. She had a general idea of where most people fell, but not exact specifics... at least not without some serious thought. “Well...” she started, slowly drawing her words together before speaking. “It depends on what list you mean. If it’s the “Fun to Look At” list, you’re pretty high up there. Easily in the top ten. But, if you’re looking for the “Overall” list, then it would be hard to say, although you’d still be pretty high up there. But, the “Overall” list is almost always changing as I get to know people better. So, day-to-day meetings and interactions can affect the list’s ranks.”

She gave him a quick grin, rather proud of the way she had handled that question. She could have made herself sound like a sap, or a bitch. She thought she had given a rather neutral answer that would leave him still guessing. Oh god... she was shyte at thinking up questions. This is why she had avoided this game as a teenager. She could take any dare and answer any question, but she could never come up with either. Time to stall a bit....

“And what, pray tell, would you do if I chose to offer a dare instead of a question?”