"Doctor Fiori!"

Carla was already halfway down the corridor outside the courtroom when Harvey Dent made a dash through the jurors and officers congregating in places they shouldn't.

It was a Friday evening and her first week being employed at Arkham Asylum had flown by, appointments with patients and hours spent testifying her professional opinion in court meant that by the time she had time to breathe, the week was over.

Carla didn't slow down her stride but that didn't matter, Harvey appeared at her side after pushing a few people out of the way and picking up his pace to catch her before she disappeared.

"Mr Dent," she smiled as she continued to walk.

"I just wanted to say you did a great job this week," he nodded, walking beside her with his hands in his pockets, "It's refreshing to have a new face in the court room and we really appreciate the cooperation from your side."

"It's not cooperation, Mr Dent," she raised a brow, "I'm just doing my job."

"Right, right," he nodded, inhaling sharply, "We should do dinner sometime. Professionally, obviously. I wouldn't suggest that-"

"Sounds great," Carla interrupted him once they reached the exit, turning to face him head on, "Next week?"

Harvey's eyes widened, not expecting her to accept his offer let alone with such enthusiasm, or at least what appeared to be enthusiasm.

She stood staring at him with a tilted head and a dazzling smile, a leather handbag clutched between her fingertips and a stack of case files held against her chest. Her hair was tied up in a sleek pony tail and her black suit almost put his to shame, a pair of patent heels keeping her just three inches shorter than him.

"Y-yeah, Tuesday work? Just to, you know, get to know each other, I can answer any questions you might have."

Carla nodded, "Tuesday is fine. Have a good weekend, Mr Dent."

"Wait," he called out again, grabbing her attention after she'd taken another hasty step towards the door, one hand resting on the silver edge.

She stared at him for a minute, waiting before he glanced over his shoulder and pushed open the door, holding it open for her and following her outside into the bleak Gotham air.

Carla frowned at the sky, pulling a face at the rain hammering down on the streets and not being able to find even a hint of any sunshine between the thick clouds that seemed to sit permanently over the city.

"Look," he said in a hushed tone, checking his surroundings with quick eyes before looking down at her, "You're new around here, but I'm sure you're aware Gotham isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows. Just be careful who you trust, a lot of people will say they have your back when they've already stuck a knife in it. This city isn't safe, but I'm going to change that. Just keep your wits about you, Doctor."

Carla swallowed, meeting his blue eyes with a single nod, "Noted. I appreciate your concern, Mr Dent."

"Please," he said with a scoff, placing a hand on her shoulder as he leant against the door, pushing it open again with his weight, "Call me Harvey outside the courtroom."

She left him with a small smile, walking away into the rain after pulling an umbrella from her handbag and making a dash towards the car park. He watched as she unlocked a black BMW and jumped into the drivers seat, pulling away and out into the traffic.

It took her an hour to crawl through the streets of Gotham before she reached her apartment, slinging her car in her marked space in the garage beneath the building before taking the elevator up to her floor.

She wasn't home for long, showering and straightening her dark hair with the television blaring in the background as she did her makeup and picked at some leftovers at the same time.

The news caught her attention eventually after the weatherman broke the news that the rain would be drowning Gotham for at least another week. The anchor reeled off the latest crime report involving Carmine Falcone and his men, a gang that she'd heard officers outside the courtroom refer to as the mob.

There was a short video clip of a shootout that had happened somewhere in the city earlier that day showing on the screen, footage of the masked vigilante tagged as The Batman dragging innocents to safety and the guilty to a less kind fate.

Gotham had changed a lot since Carla left as a child, but unlike most of the citizens, she didn't care. The place had never really been her home, at least not while she was old enough to remember, and so she held no concern to whether the city collapsed in on itself or not, only caring about the patient's files that landed on her desk.

Despite that, one thing that did matter to Carla was how she spent her weekends, and after a fairly successful first week at her new job, she wasn't going to let the rain or a dead end city keep her from rounding out her week with a drink.

Dressed in a brown fur coat and leather boots, Carla followed the directions on her phone and found herself walking down the dark streets of Gotham's East Side. It was busy which she assumed was normal for a Friday evening and expensive looking bars lined either side of the street which surprised Carla as she strolled alone, not expecting to see such inviting establishments in such a harrowing place.

She walked a little further, ignoring the catcalls from drunk businessmen in suits and overcoats and the stares from women when they realised their man had a wandering eye, keeping her head looking straight ahead, lips pulled into a resting pout.

Her phone announced her arrival and Carla looked up to her left, raising a brow at the nondescript door with two bouncers stood talking to each other outside of it, not a sign or even a light in sight.

The number of civilians had thinned out to nothing the further down the street Carla walked and a rumble of a thundering train crashing down the tracks of a bridge above her head made her shiver, drips of water leaking through the structure into puddles collected in sunken potholes on the weathered tarmac.

Carla checked she had the right address once more before sighing begrudgingly and walking towards the bouncers. Her high heels drew attention to her before she was close enough to speak, both men exchanging an amused glance before flashing patronising smiles at her.

"Can we help you, sweetheart?"

"Yes," she said, matching their false smiles, "Is this the Iceberg Lounge?"

They both chuckled and as she stared up at them, Carla realised they were twins. Jet black hair and hollow blue eyes made them look intimidating and their broad shoulders and high-neck jackets highlighted their large stature, their grins perhaps just there to antagonise if they felt like it.

"It is," one of them answered, "Do you have a reservation? Are you meeting someone?"

Carla tilted her head and batted her lashes, their feeble tone making her stomach turn with irritation, though she bit her tongue and kept any thoughts to herself.

"Meeting someone."

"Is that so?" The other replied, eyes wandering across her body when the breeze blew the sides of her fur coat open, exposing her bare legs and mini skirt, "Then you should be on the list."

"Why don't you check?" She replied firmly, her smile fading into a thin line.

He scoffed and pulled out a phone from his back pocket, scrolling across the screen while the other peered over his shoulder.

"Name?"

"Carla F-"

"Fancy seeing you here."

An echo of footsteps came from the darkness of the bridge, slow strides and a deep voice turned the heads of Carla and the two bouncers.

She spun on her heels to look at the interruptor, rolling her eyes with a sigh and a shake of her head when she saw Bruce Wayne emerging from the shadows in a woollen overcoat with his hair slicked back and a navy golf umbrella above his head.

The bouncers whispered something to each other before opening the door and slipping inside, slamming it shut behind them and sliding a block against the small gap in the iron.

"Thanks a lot," she said roughly, glaring at Bruce who just laughed as he approached her.

"What are you doing down here?" He asked, holding the umbrella over her.

"It's a Friday night," she said, "I'm out for a drink."

He kissed his teeth and stared over her head, eyes glancing at the different sides of the street, the only other people being the ones she left in the distance after walking past the bars that did have normal signs and doorways.

"You shouldn't be down here, it's not safe."

"I'm fine, Mr Wayne. I'm meeting somebody."

"Jonathan Crane, by any chance?" He raised a brow.

She forced a laugh, "My only friend, how did you know?"

He smirked and shrugged his shoulders, "Lucky guess. You don't belong in there, trust me. If you really want to have a drink that badly with Doctor Crane, at least go someplace else."

Carla narrowed her eyes, arms folded at her chest as she stared up at him, the wind blowing his rich tobacco aftershave across her with a whistle.

"You're very persistent."

He pursed his lips, "Some might say."

"Well it begs the question," she said, her tone flirtatiously toying, "What are you doing down here?"

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes seeming almost black as he held her gaze, "Business."

"Don't you have someone to do that for you?"

He chuckled and matched her tone, eyes glinting playfully, "Sometimes the best way to get a job done is to do it yourself, I'm sure you know that."

She said nothing, simply raising her brows in agreement with a withheld smirk that made her eyes curve upwards.

There was something obscure about Bruce Wayne, something dark. In a lot of ways, the stranger turned somewhat of an acquaintance reminded Carla of herself. He was confident and no doubt self-assured, headstrong and witty with his sharp words and sinister gaze. He put people on edge, Carla had noticed, though wasn't sure why since all he'd done to her so far was cause inconvenience.

"Let me walk you to another bar. There's a lot of strange people around here at night, dangerous, too."

He placed a hand on the small of her back and prompted her to start walking, which she did. Carla wasn't sure why she did what Bruce Wayne told her to do, but by that point in the week, she had little energy left to argue with anybody else, let alone him.

He continued to hold the umbrella mainly over her head while the rain soaked his right shoulder, heading back towards the golden lights and laughter of Friday night drinkers that weren't smoking outside of inconspicuous garage doors with twin bouncers.

"Is that why you're down here, Mr Wayne?" She mused, looking up at him with a smirk.

"Exactly."

He paused when they reached a brightly lit bar with maroon coloured walls and a brass-handled bar, tuxedo-wearing mixologists shaking cocktails with one hand and pouring liquor with another.

It looked like a nice place, but Carla was still irritated that he'd changed her plans, wanting to discover the city for herself.

"Here is safe," he said, nodding once at the bouncer who clocked him and gave him a kind smile, "Text Jonathan Crane and have him meet you here instead. Goodnight, Doctor Fiori."

Bruce didn't hide the once-over glance he pulled up and down Carla's body as he took a step back, smirking to himself as he turned to walk back the way they'd just come.

She rolled her eyes in repulsion at his sleaze and for a moment, debated walking straight back down the street and heading into the Iceberg Lounge like she'd planned to, only to decide to walk into the bar in front of her instead, something inside of her telling her that tonight was not the night to go against Bruce Wayne's wishes.

Sitting down on a velvet stool at the bar, Carla ordered two Old Fashioned's and pulled out her phone, turning her back on the drunken finance worker still in his work clothes that approached her with a tipsy level of confidence in his eyes before he could even speak to her.

"Doctor Crane," she said sweetly once her call was answered, "Change of plan, walk three minutes up the street instead. Why? That doesn't matter, you have a drink here waiting for you. And me."

an;;
I'm actually obsessed with writing this it's SO much fun!! Tysm for reading, plenty more updates coming very soon, hope you enjoyed!!