☾TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4; 
hello gotham! tonight, newcomer socialite, sabrina filippovna, is hosting a charity ball for her corporation in order to help end human trafficking, specifically in her hometown of moscow. so be sure to put on your sunday's best... it is for a good occasion, after all.

sabrina nastasia ivashkov filippovna
✞
scent - chanel chance
mood - business-like
hair - both pics
nails - zoya; blair
lips - m.a.c.; high tea lipstick
music - when you're gone by the cranberries
food - champagne
where - belle monico hotel
with - bruce wayne and lynx dubois
✞
I weaved around the crowd, gently pressing into the backs of men in dark, dramatic suits and women at their sides, all dressed in elegant gowns and lightly holding champagne flutes delicately, demurely, making me appear like an aloof idiot. 

Maybe I was.

I wasn’t sure.

Daddy had always called me babochka. "Butterfly". But I was anything but the graceful creature.

More like a cockroach.

This was a charity ball, after all, and these women wasted all their money in their hair and makeup and designer clothing. Daddy’s foundation was built to save the girls in Russia with nothing… and that didn’t make much sense to me. So maybe it was because I looked like an old woman in my sensible shift dress, or maybe it was the tattoos. Eyes canvassed my thighs and shot odd expressions my way. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Finally, I found the figure I was looking for. Bruce Wayne leaned against the bar, dressed handsomely in suit and tie. His eyes met mine across the crowd and something shifted inside. I pushed those feelings back in my head and cleared my throat, regaining that Filippovna composure. 

Just like Daddy would have wanted.

“Hello Mr. Bruce.”

A smirk danced across his face as he leaned forward.

“Sabrina, I've been thinking about your European kiss from the other day.” He whispered. It seemed far too unprofessional for my taste, yet I didn’t dare to stop him. A blush crept onto my cheeks as I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips onto his cheek. His sweet scent of Whiskey and aftershave crept into my nose as we pulled apart and I remembered why I had been looking for him in the first place.

“Mr. Bruce, I’d like you to meet somebody.” I turned on my heel and began to march back towards Lynx when his fingers wrapped around my own.

“Anything you say.”

Another round of shivers danced up my spine. He might have noticed, I wasn’t sure.

I found Lynx easily; especially in her tight red-dress with blonde curls spilling over her shoulders. It hadn’t hit me until then, but she was gorgeous. Those blue eyes. That cluster of freckles over her nose. I had spent my days in Russia reading up about Gotham City on the Internet, preparing myself for what was to come. Of course, everything had been about Bruce. Pictures all showed him in the likes of gorgeous women who looked like sluttier, faker versions of Lynx. And here she was, the real deal, right in front of Bruce himself.

And for some reason, a twinge of jealousy rang out in my chest.

“Mr. Bruce, this is Lynx Dubois, Gotham’s new forensic psychologist,” I motioned them towards one another. “Lynx, this is Bruce Wayne.” I couldn’t really think of a sentence to describe Bruce, so I didn’t bother.

“Lovely meeting you.” Lynx smiled brightly, leaning forward to shake Bruce’s hand animatedly. He smiled appreciatively at her as I crossed my hands over my lap.

“Same to you, Lynx.” 

An awkward silence took over as a waiter past, tray in hand. Bruce snagged two flutes, one of which he handed to me, before Lynx grabbed her own. I sipped my daintily before Lynx spoke.

“This gala is truly wonderful, Sabrina.” I smiled tightly and bowed, feeling much like the foreigner I was. “It’s my first charity event.” She grinned wildly. “And the cause is wonderful.”

Bruce’s gaze followed hers as he eyed me carefully.

“Yes, Sabrina. What inspired you to choose human trafficking?”

I swallowed another gulp of Champagne.

“Well, it is a very big problem in Russia and it is something my father felt very passionately about.”

I felt sloppy in English, as if my R’s weren’t strong enough and my V’s held the opposite affect. I knew from her accent that Lynx spoke French, which I could get through at a much easier pace, but Bruce’s sly grin screamed nothing but pure bread American man.

“That’s very wonderful.” Lynx smiled as Bruce nodded in confirmation.

Suddenly, a figure appeared at Bruce’s side. He was older, much older, and seemed to manage himself very well in the likes of Gotham’s young socialites, much to my surprise. He grabbed Bruce’s forearm in a way someone with only utmost familiarity would do.

“Mr. Wayne, we have an, er, situation.” I recognized his British accent and how Bruce’s demeanor instantly changed at his words.

“Is it something in the stocks?” I asked, thinking back to my own company. The market had been flocculating a lot recently and being CEO of a business meant you had to worry about a lot of factors you didn’t worry about before.

“No, sorry miss.” The man shot me a tight smile.

“Alfred, this is Sabrina Filippovna, of Filippovna Corporations. And this is Lynx Dubois, a forensic psychologist.” Bruce introduced both of us before Alfred bowed his head in a chivalrous manner.

“Lovely meeting you two ladies, but we’ve must go. My sincerest apologizes.” 

I bowed my own head as Alfred and Bruce disappeared into the crowd, heading directly towards the entrance.

I hadn’t noticed before, but both Lynx and I had drained our flutes entirely.

“What a mysterious person.” Lynx breathed.

And I couldn’t help but to agree with her.

✞

(type 'i'll miss you when you're gone' if you read it all)
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