#;gthread

         “I’m too tired to be entirely snarky at the moment. -- What do you want, Nate?” exhaustion blooms from her tongue as she sighs exasperatedly, shutting the door to her locker and placing her full attention on the beautiful giant before her. -- He also knows what he’s got going for him. And she can read him like her favorite Joan Didion novel.

     “Well well well, look what lil ole Gotham dragged in.” the model muses, slinkily-tip-toeing her way up to the food cart. Fashion week was afoot, and her petite figure was in high demand. Just as any city capital, Gotham was filtered with it’s own colourful glitz and glamour and fashionistas alike.       Gracie herself is adorned in a formal Marc Jacobs gettup, but it’s clearly break time from the photoshoot, and she’s hungry. 

           “Does this make me look fat???”

          “Well -- this is awkward.” Grace muses, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be, for sure but. -- ok well Lala says you’re a great guy, and she’s never steered me wrong...” 

     In this city, every rich elitist knows at least about each other. A model of Gracie’s stature of course is far and beyond aware of Bruce Wayne, especially his demeanor when it comes to women. -- Her friends. A regular lady’s man -- at least that’s the persona he’s decided to put on time and again. Of course she’s at the gala on behalf of Vogue magazine, and of course she’s doing her best to be poised and mostly unaware of the flirtatious behavior of others. Then comes the inappropriate commentary from a few men in suits who find their humor most satisfying when indeed it’s sexist and disgusting.        Gracie plays the part of amused ‘escort’ - until she can’t any longer, brows raising, grin completely faked but not strained and she works to excuse herself, that’s when she feels a hand slip from her hip to her rear.            “Here is a tip, just because a woman is politely engaging in asinine conversation with you does not mean it is an invite for you to touch her ass!” she hisses at the older not-so-gentleman.

     “Hi. Sorry -- you don’t know me, obviously but I -- do you know Jakob? He lives just there...” she points a couple of doors down the hallway, a shivering mess in his doorway. “I just got locked out and I can’t remember where he hides the key... Grace, by the way, my name’s Grace.” she forces a smile against her chattering teeth, wrapping petite arms around her tiny form. “My phone died and I really don’t have anywhere to charge it -- I guess what I’m asking is... can I come in?” a bit unorthodox, she’s sure. The girl’s lived on her own in the city for long enough to realize that not all neighbors are ‘neighborly’ but she’d seen him around a time or two, mid 2 am laundry treks in the community unit, though they’d never actually spoken a word.