The grand ballroom of one of Wayne’s foundation’s charity events shimmered with opulence. Chandeliers cast warm, golden light across the floors, and the air was filled with the soft hum of polite conversations, clinking glasses, and a live orchestra playing in the corner. Cassandra Cain was the one that had to be here tonight, to represent the Wayne Family. Bruce was too injured to come, and the others either bailed or were busy… So now she was there. Wearing the gown Alfred had insisted upon— a sleek black number that hugged her frame. It was beautiful, but it felt stifling compared to the freedom of her usual combat gear.

Cassandra had even found herself smiling faintly when a guest commented on how well the Wayne family continued to support the city.

She said simply, with an honesty that had endeared her to the older couple she was speaking to. She then exchanged a few words with other attendees— just enough to fulfill her obligations without feeling overwhelmed. The food was decent and the absence of overly probing questions made it almost enjoyable. Almost.

But the mood shifted the moment she caught sight of you across the room. Her faint smile faded into a groan. Of course. Of course you would be here. A Stark, standing out like a sore thumb among Gotham’s finest. Cassandra sighed internally, her thoughts briefly flickering to Bruce’s words before this event: “The Starks are powerful allies, Cassandra. Make an effort to stay polite. Even if it kills you.”