SON OF BATMAN

Yvonne paused for a moment, her playful smirk softening ever so slightly. She tilted her head, sapphire eyes glinting as she added, "Actually… no, you definitely miss him more."

Amelia's brow furrowed in a faint frown, her professional mask slipping just a little as she looked back at Yvonne. "And what makes you so sure, Young Mistress?"

Yvonne exhaled a soft, dreamy sigh, her smile turning wistful. She let her fingers drift down the front of her body, the tips of them grazing just below her navel as though guided by memory.

"Because, unlike you, I just spent the entire night in his arms," she murmured, her voice quiet, almost as if the confession was meant only for herself. Her hand lingered where her womb rested, a faint blush tinting her cheeks as her gaze grew distant.

"Even now, I can still feel him inside me…"

Her words hung in the air, soft yet heavy, the implication unmistakable. A quiet, unspoken intimacy passed over her face, her mind clearly replaying every moment of the night before.

Amelia's face turned scarlet, her usually calm demeanor completely shattering for a brief moment as her lips parted in shock. She quickly turned her head away, her hands clasping the towel in her hands as she visibly struggled to recover her composure.

"Young Mistress!" she chided, her voice sharp, though it trembled slightly. "Must you speak so… freely about such things?" Her tone grew firmer, though she still wouldn't meet Yvonne's gaze.

"A woman of your status should conduct herself with a touch more decorum. Words like that—" she faltered, cheeks still glowing crimson, "—would cause no small amount of scandal if they were overheard."

Yvonne laughed, the sound light and melodic as she leaned back further against the edge of the tub, clearly enjoying Amelia's flustered reaction. "Oh, don't act so scandalized, Amelia. You did ask," she teased, her grin returning, though her hand lingered lazily where it had been.

"Besides," she added with a smirk, her sapphire eyes glinting mischievously, "it's not as though you don't know what it feels like."

"To have him buried deep inside you, I mean."

Amelia froze, her hazel eyes widening as the words hit her like a thunderclap. The blush already staining her cheeks deepened, spreading to the tips of her ears as her grip tightened even further on the towel.

For a moment, she was utterly speechless, her composure shattered.

"Y-Young Mistress!" she stammered, her voice losing its usual crispness as she turned sharply away, her back now to Yvonne. "That is entirely inappropriate!"

Yvonne chuckled, the sound rich with mischief. "Inappropriate? Come on, Amelia," she teased, propping her chin in her hand as she tilted her head to the side.

"You're blushing more than I am, and I'm the one talking about it."

"I am not blushing," Amelia snapped, though her trembling voice betrayed her. She kept her back to Yvonne, staring resolutely at the far wall as if it might save her from the situation. Her knuckles, under her gloves, whitened from her grip, clearly fighting to regain control of herself.

Yvonne's grin widened as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the tub. "Oh, please," she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Yvonne delighted in teasing Amelia. There was something about teasing Amelia that Yvonne simply couldn't resist. Her stoic, unflappable attendant could endure just about anything with her signature deadpan expression, be it scoldings, Yvonne's antics, or even veiled insults from others, but Damian was her one weakness.

The mere mention of him, let alone anything so scandalously intimate, could make Amelia's mask crumble like glass.

It was rare, and that's what made it so entertaining. Yvonne relished seeing the calm, composed Amelia transform into a flustered mess with just a few well-placed words.

It was almost too easy.

Yvonne's playful smirk didn't waver as she studied Amelia with a gleam of amusement in her sapphire eyes.

"Oh, don't give me that prim and proper act," she teased, swirling her fingers lazily through the water.

"You can't fool me, Amelia. Just admit it. You miss him too." Her tone was sing-song, her grin mischievous.

"You're just as hopeless as I am when it comes to him."

Amelia straightened her posture, her hands adjusting the towel draped neatly over her arm as though to regain her composure.

"It is not my place to miss the Young Master," she said primly, though her voice held a slight edge of defensiveness.

Yvonne rolled her eyes with a huff, her lips curling into a playful pout.

"Oh, you're no fun, Amelia," she teased, flicking a bit of water in her attendant's direction again, and again, it didn't come close to reaching her.

"You act as if emotions are beneath you."

Yvonne's laughter rang out, soft and melodious, filling the space as Amelia remained stoic.

Sitting up slightly, Yvonne rested her damp arms on the edge of the tub.

"But really, now that he's here to stay, Gotham won't know what hit it." She said lightly, her tone softening.

Amelia's brows furrowed slightly, but her tone remained as measured as ever. "You believe the Young Master's return will cause... chaos?"

"Chaos?" Yvonne tilted her head, pretending to think. "No, not chaos. Let's call it... a purge. He's made up his mind. Gotham's filth has stayed untouched for too long. There will be blood. A lot of it."

Amelia's hazel eyes softened briefly, a flicker of quiet understanding passing through them. Without hesitation, she adjusted her grip on the towel draped over her arm, her back as rigid as ever.

"If that is what the Young Master intends, then it will be so." She said firmly, her voice steady and resolute, "then it will be done. Gotham will bend to his will."

Yvonne smiled faintly at her attendant's unwavering loyalty. "Well, you're not wrong. He doesn't leave things half-finished."

Amelia nodded, regaining her professional poise. "Shall I prepare your tea, Young Mistress?" she asked, her voice smooth and composed once again.

Yvonne rolled her eyes but smiled. "You already have, haven't you?"

"Of course," Amelia replied, her deadpan delivery as sharp as ever.

Yvonne chuckled softly, shaking her head as she rose from the water, the droplets running down her skin catching the light.

"And let me guess, you've already cleaned the bedroom, haven't you? Perfected every little detail? Probably already picked out my clothes too, haven't you?"

Amelia stepped forward immediately, holding out the towel with her usual efficiency. She inclined her head slightly.

"Indeed, Young Mistress. Your attire has been prepared, and the bedroom is in order. As always."

"Of course," Yvonne smirked as she took the towel, wrapping it around herself. "You're nothing if not thorough, Amelia."

Amelia inclined her head in acknowledgment, stepping back to give her mistress space. Yvonne cast a quick glance at the now-impeccable master bedroom visible through the bathroom door.

The bed was perfectly made, not a single sheet out of place, and her clothing for the day was laid out neatly on it.

Yvonne rolled her eyes but smirked nonetheless. "You're too efficient, Amelia. One day, you'll run out of things to do and won't know what to do with yourself."

"Unlikely," Amelia replied, her tone flat. "You're bound to find ways to complicate my life, Young Mistress."

Yvonne laughed, the sound light and unbothered as she stepped out of the tub, the towel clinging to her damp frame. "Oh, you know me so well," she quipped as she strolled toward the bedroom.

"Honestly, Amelia, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Perish, most likely," Amelia quipped, her tone flat, though there was the faintest hint of warmth in her hazel eyes as she looked at Yvonne.

"Perish? Absolutely," Yvonne agreed with a grin, holding the towel around herself.

"Now, come on. Let's see what you've picked out for me today. Something fabulous, I hope. You know, to distract me from my crushing despair."

"Only the finest, Young Mistress," Amelia replied smoothly as she followed Yvonne toward the bedroom, her sharp heels clicking softly against the tiled floor.

*********

Yvonne descended the grand staircase with an effortless elegance, her sapphire eyes alight with her usual mischief. Her all-black outfit hugged her figure perfectly, exuding nobility.

Amelia followed closely behind, her black stilettos clicking in perfect rhythm with Yvonne's, the sound echoing softly through the expansive hall.

Ever composed, Amelia's gloved hands were clasped neatly behind her, her professional demeanor unwavering despite the faintest hint of exasperation at her mistress's energy.

At the base of the stairs, Alfred stood poised, the very image of propriety. His hands were folded behind his back, his sharp eyes watching their descent with polite attentiveness. As the two women reached him, Yvonne flashed him a bright, cheerful grin.

"Good morning, Alfred!" she chirped, her melodic voice carrying a playful lilt. "Such a dashing figure you cut today! I assume you're already two steps ahead of me?"

Alfred inclined his head, a faint, approving smile gracing his lips. "Good morning, Young Miss. I am at your service. Is there anything you require?"

Yvonne tapped her chin theatrically, pretending to ponder his question as she leaned slightly toward him, a teasing spark dancing in her eyes. Then she grinned.

"Hmm, let's see. I don't need a whole lot, just some snacks and maybe a good chair to spin around in while I pretend to work."

Amelia's lips twitched, though her stoic mask remained intact. Alfred, ever the professional, merely nodded without missing a beat.

"Very good, Young Miss. Shall I presume the snacks should be delivered promptly, alongside a selection of chairs most suitable for spinning?"

Yvonne laughed, the sound light and melodious. "Oh, Alfred, you really do spoil me."