Brucie Wayne. Multi-billionaire. The media’s darling. Patron of Gotham City. Womanizer.
Bruce Wayne hasn’t been seen with a young model on his arm for forever, it seems. But after all that time, what has changed?
“And who might this hot toddy be? Share, won’t you, Brucie?“
Bruce chokes on his drink. Dennis Faber, resident playboy since ‘98 and fellow Princeton graduate, is leering at Cassandra. Cass is taking it in stride, smiling politely if uncertainly.
Bruce, however, is NOT.
“This is my daughter,” he growls in a scandalized undertone.
Dennis gulps. His eyes widen and he steps back. “I-I see,” he stammers. He considers this for a moment, then collects himself and smiles winningly. “You’re eighteen though, right?” he addresses Cassandra.
Bruce doesn’t even think. He steps forward.
In a blink of an eye Dennis has collected his date, keys, and overcoat and is GONE.
Bruce clenches his fist, teeth painfully gritted. Cassandra hovers behind him. He takes a breath. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper now. He turns around to look at her, wilting a little because she never should have been there to suffer through that.
The girl is pursing her lips thoughtfully. “I,” Cassandra announces after a moment, “am a hot toddy.”
“Oh, sweetheart…” And Bruce is at her side, sad and sympathetic. “No, you are not,” he tells her, looking into her dark eyes. “You are my daughter, a fiercely talented individual, and a young woman deserving respect.“
Cassandra is silent. She looks up into Bruce’s eyes, nods a little. “Yeah…”
Bruce exhales in relief.
Then Cass smirks. “And a hot toddy.”
Bruce balks as she sashays off. He closes his eyes. Nothing will be the same ever again.
“No, don’t, Cassie, pleas–”
“Wayne Residence, hot toddy speaking.”
“Cass that’s Gotham Hearth and Home Magazine!”