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Bane didn’t really know why it was so easy to talk to this woman but he found it nice. Something he’d have probably gone out of his way for had he been more… ‘normal’. Such a subjective word.

>. "Free for you anytime, handsome. But if you're asking me head-on...How about Wednesday? I'll let you pick the place and time." Binary let a chuckle slip from her lips, but caught herself just in time before making a fool of herself. "Just a little tip, though...I like my privacy when I'm out dining."

The hacker, although a little reluctant to let go of his good company, began to pace backward away from him. Sliding her mask back in place, heels clicking against the asphalt -- ready to get going once more.

Why, all of a sudden, did she find herself growing excited to actually get to know this giant...?

"I'm sure you understand why."<

Helena is careful to pace her words as Bianca rouses visibly upon her entry. She notes the pulse monitor hiking upward, likely from the intrusion paired with the disorientation she had been experiencing as she came in and out of sleep. The nursing student could recall from previous documentation how this patient's disorientation was noted in close tandem with heightened impulsivity and emotional responsivity to stimuli of any kind. She makes sure to give Bianca as much time as necessary to process and respond to her questions, and she mentally notes that the short-haired woman is able to keep track of her questions and answer them sequentially. 

That's a good sign! Her orientation in conversation seemed to be improved, it wasn't uncommon for patients on Neurology's SICU floor to have difficulty following the flow of a conversation after waking for the first few days. Of course, it depended on the primary issues they were dealing with, but Helena mentally takes note that this is something she should add to her contact note. The brunette is also attentive to the latent anxiety radiating through Bianca's posture- her wandering eye contact, the apologetic behavior. It made sense. Trauma presented in different ways for different people, and with neurological deficits at high risk of causing moderate changes to her future behavior, the emotional presentation becoming more prominent would not be unusual. 

“They're quick tests to check on the 12 nerves originating from your brain- testing your eyes, your hearing, your basic movement responses. We've been prodding and poking you with that stuff about every three hours, since we've been concerned because of the memory loss you're experiencing along with other risks that come with experiencing Whiplash and whatnot. But, if this last one goes well, we can discontinue it! Less poking and prodding, a miracle.” 

The nurse gives a gentle smile as she tries to ensure her tone is thoughtful and reassuring, monitoring the volume with which she speaks and measuring her tone so that it is neither distracted nor patronizing as she responds to Bianca's apologies. “Don't worry about it, alright? It's completely normal to be disoriented when you're coming in and out of sleep so often. It's about 5 PM, and I think you were sleeping when the lunch trays came around.”

Helena circles the foot of the bed toward the rolling table positioned near the side of Bianca's medical bed. She retrieves the large handled cup with a lid and straw filled with room-temperature water. “Let me switch this out and get you something to eat, alright? We can worry about the tests once you've gotten something in that belly. I'll knock when I'm back." 

The nursing student makes sure that Bianca understands before taking her leave, making eye contact with her patient until she is certain that what she has explained has been understood. Only then does she take her leave. It takes her a few minutes to go back out to the main floor of the SICU, dump the water out into the main sink and use the water and ice dispenser to refill the large bottle with ice and cool water. Then, she fishes around in the quick snacks drawer the nursing staff have, stocked with saltines and graham crackers, sweetener and honey for coffee and tea, the likes. She takes out a couple packets of graham crackers, small cups of peanut butter with peel-away seals, and then makes her way back to Bianca's room. 

As she had promised, she knocks three times, before entering the room quietly and carefully depositing all of the items of sustenance back onto the counter. She doesn't dump anything carelessly, she sets down the bottle first, then the packets of peanut butter, and lastly the crackers. Methodical, careful, and quiet. Then, she turns the rolling table and positions it carefully in front of Bianca, hovering over the bed and further on her right side, so it is easier to see, and she fiddles with a lever on the table's supportive beam to lower it down closer to Bianca's hands. She wordlessly centers it so that Bianca does not need to turn her head much, and that she can reach the contents of the table without having to lift above elbow level due to her broken collarbone. The handle of the bottle is facing towards the short-haired woman, and Helena seems poised and ready to help her prepare the snack if she struggles- but she doesn't presume that Bianca would rather her do things for her. Even though she was only a few days fresh out of her crash, she wanted to make sure that she allowed Bianca to do as much for herself as she could or wanted without causing undue harm to herself.

“Do you need some more tissues?” The brunette offers quietly, the cut of scarring over her nose bridge crinkling a bit as her brow furrows with thoughtful attentiveness. She doesn't outright ask after Bianca's tearfulness when she came into the room, and uses this Yes or No question as a way to test the edges of the topic. 

>. The moment the nurse left, Bianca fought to remain still. Her upper body fluttered back and forth, and her breathing grew rapid and tense, overwhelmed by her loneliness. To prevent herself from collapsing inward, she started counting seconds, as if the walls might cave in if she didn't.

1 , 2 , 3 . 4 , 5 , 6... 6...

Repeat. Go again. You got this. This brain of yours ain't dead yet.

1 , 2 , 3 . 4 , 5 , 6.

Numbers. Numbers didn't tell any lies. They were logical, rules written by man and nature. When everything else failed, it was the only thing to keep her sane.

And much had failed now, hadn't it? "---.... 7...--8...9 ---..."

K n o c k - ! K n o c k - ! K n o c k - !

Ten, the final number, was so close yet still so far when Nurse Helena returned. Bianca's chapped lips pressed tightly together as her head turned slightly to catch the other woman in her peripheral vision. When the snacks appeared, she felt a longing for more—something warm and savory. Though her appetite felt unusual, she welcomed it, and her hips subtly shifted forward to reach for the treat on the tray before her.

"...T-Thank you."

At first, Bianca reached out with confidence-- but missed the crackers by an arm's length. Realizing depth perception was no longer an ally to her, she tried again -- this time, feeling her way up to the crackers and peanut butter. And once the package was in her hand, she nearly tore it in two - spilling peanut butter on herself.

"D-Damnit. S-Sorry."

Again, having no clue as to the reason for her apology, her tearful gaze met Helena shyly. Not quite yet understanding the glossiness of her remaining eye, she wiped her cheek-- her fingertips wet from the tears.

"I-I didn't realize I was...Y-Yes. Please."

She was crying in front of someone. Bianca hadn't shown tears in public for who knows how long—probably not since her father's death. But now, she was vulnerable in front of a stranger—luckily, a stranger who genuinely seemed to care for her.

"Helen...Helena? Can I...ask you a question...?"

The memories had been tearing at her nerves since she woke up, but she had been too afraid to ask. Now, with a kind face finally in front of her, she could no longer hide what she wanted most in the entire world.

"What...What happened to me...?" .<

Wispy   guffaw   ,   the   air   curling   gray   smirk   against   her   palm   .   What   can   he   say   ?   They   employed   a   charming   woman   .   &&   a   fierce   one   .   Two   things   could   be   true   at   once   . 

҂      · ❝    You   know   I   like   it   when   you   get   to   thinkin'   &&   talkin'   like   that    .   ❞   They   were   better   hitting   it   head   on   .   There   was   no   infiltrating   a   populated   place   like   that   with   their   discernible   features   .   Especially   after   the   ignited   blazing   flames   that   ramped   up   the   heat   this   week   .   Oswald   was   likely   expecting   them   .    No   matter   .   They   just   need   to   hit   him   fast   &&   hit   him   hard   .

As   they   often   were   ,   stuck   in   that   bifurcated   head   of   theirs   ,   two   sides   desiring   the   same   things   but   how   to   get   their   conflict   lay   with   the   execution   of   the   justice   they   so   desperately   sought   .   Neither   suspect   that   anyone   woman   let   alone   the   very   lady   they   keep   close   would   see   them   in   such   iridescent   light   .    ❝    I'm   sure   Harvey   could   slip   a   few   tip-offs   to   the   pigs   .   ❞

>. "Oh? Is that so? I mean..."

This was the part she enjoyed the most with Harvey and Two-Face. The scheming, the molding of their heads -- where all their plans came together -- sent the right kind of shivers across her temples, traveling down her neck to form goosebumps across her back.

Oh yeah, they were definitely going to go home as winners this time around.

"---It would be rather rude not to turn up if everyone else is going, right? We couldn't possibly miss out on such a fun evening..."

A masquerade would be the perfect way to catch them by surprise. It was almost as if Oswald invited them to do bad shit to him -- what a downright loser. But despite Bianca's opinion of the Bird, she knew better than to underestimate her opponent.

"I suggest we avoid revealing our names at the door to avoid the attention... Let's be real, if he finds out we're there he'll most likely be turning us down. But if we enter with fake names and in costume..."

--- Yes. That could work.

"I'll find a way to get us on that list. You got any preferred aliases, darlings?"

If he and Two-Face were nice enough to let her fool around, then the very least she could do was show them the courtesy of picking something to their liking. With a drag of her cigarette, smoke filling her lungs, she leaned forward even more. Plucking a stray of his black, curly hair away from his scarred side as her gentle caress brushed the tender, wounded skin over -- just to neatly put it back where it belonged.

Almost too affectionate for her own good.

"Can't be anything too obvious, though."

Bane knew his men could be rather… spirited about new people coming around. Especially when that person is known to work with other rogues or the bats.

It was a brave notion but Bane knew how to handle rats if they encountered them. Not that anyone tried to cross him.

>. " H a h -- I bet they are."

Surely, she could handle a few rowdy men in case they decided to throw a tantrum -- but it was nice to be given the heads up. Again, it showcased Bane's respect for others -- especially for someone who may not have the same status and power as Dent or any of the other infamous rogues of Gotham.

She was simply Binary -- and Bane seemed to understand every aspect of that.

"Are they at least loyal to you? Sometimes I do wonder about Bob and Bub's collective IQ -- but I'd be doing them a disservice if I said they aren't damn loyal to Dent."

They let her mind her own business - and that's what she preferred most about the two cousins.<

Billy watched as she squatted down next to him, half and half mask seemingly burning holes into his eyes despite being blank spots of black and white. Even through that, he could just tell how annoyed she was at the situation, which he was totally amused by. He stared right back at her with a scoff as she flicked the torn spandex of his chest.

"Wounded n' bleedin' man n' ya gonn' make fun a' the getup as well, huh? Ice cold, Oreo cookie." A red clad finger reached out, returning her gesture and booping the nose of her mask.

"Wrong, wrong, n’ wrong ‘gain, girly. Ain't none a' those n' never have been. Just a merc doin' a job n' it got a lil' stupid n' hairy, that's all. But that's what I get when I ain't workin' with just me, m'self, n' I." Of course, the stranger didn't know exactly what he meant by that last part, and maybe she'll never know—but it may be more fun if she did.

>. "A merc. Huh."

If she had a nickel for many times she ran into mercenaries in this city, she'd have a good pile of nickels. But she'd never had one bleeding out on her doorstep, which she had to admit was an interesting change of pace.

"My d e a l right now is figuring out how to make sure those who chased you out here don't find you - and in turn find me, too."

They could save the niceties for later.

"For your information, red hot chilipepper -- I do, in fact, live here. And the more attention you bring to my place, the more annoyed I'm going to become. So." There was little care with the way she grabbed his unwounded arm, trying to hoist him off to the side and start dragging him to the courtyard with half his body just following along.

"If you try anything, I'm going to tase you. Are we clear?"

With a guttural grunt, Binary began to unlock the heavy door that kept outsiders out -- kicking it open once unlocked and dragging him over the dirty asphalt below. Sure, maybe she was a fool to bring a stranger straight into her home -- but she wanted him to stay hidden once those who attacked him decided to come around. If he had simply vanished, they would keep searching elsewhere.

...Maybe she should be a little nicer to him. He was bleeding and looking like shit, after all. Maybe.

"...I'm Binary. And your name?" .<