𝕊𝕆𝕃𝕀𝕍𝔸𝔾𝔸ℕ𝕋║[ᴅ. ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ]

ɴʏᴄᴛᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ

"The entire world should unanimously vote for any all hours before eight o'clock to be erased from existence." Vin glared, sighing to himself as he rifled through his bag roughly, making sure he had everything packed.

Damian gave an affirming grunt as he sipped the handmade smoothie Vin had brought for him. Kiwis, oranges, lemons—he mentally listed the fruits as he identified their tangy flavors. "What is the point of this meaningless excursion?" he asked the other boy, exasperated.

"Field trips," Vin muttered grimly. "A temporary relief from the demands of academic life and the one day where any and all bathrooms disappear from human sight, never to be found by poor students waddling around in a foreign area, desperately needing to pee."

Damian's dark brow rose, "Context?"

"Fourth grade. Remington Felise. Gotham Botanical Gardens." He grunted.

"Ah."

A voice called out nearby, catching everyone's attention. Ms. Reingold, the sociology teacher and one of the field trip chaperones, had finished taking attendance. "Everyone, we will begin boarding the bus in five minutes! Please ensure that you have ALL of your belongings." She announced to the gathered students.

There weren't many of them. Seeing as this field trip was a... one-of-a-kind experience, the hosts wanted to keep the numbers minimal for security reasons. For Damian, Dick had immediately signed his permission slip with great fervor and without any input from his younger brother. Vin's father hadn't even asked his son whether he wanted to go (he didn't) before he slashed his signature across the dotted line and mailed it to the academy before Vin could draw blood.

Haughty footsteps approached them, "What do you think, Wayne? Think I can impress our illustrious hosts with a dazzling offer for future collaborations with Bridgerton Sons & Co.?" Carmichael leaned against the bus, chatting at, but notably not with, Damian.

"Do you have the sandwiches, Vincent?" Damian asked him, explicitly ignoring the blonde's presence.

Vin's eyes flickered briefly to the desperate Carmichael. I guess we're just disregarding the blonde elephant in the room. "Yeah, right here. We got a chickpea and avocado for Wayne and a katsu sando for yours truly." He waved the neatly packed lunch.

Damian made a noise of approval. "Excellent. I have procured the beverages as agreed—Pennyworth's specialty lemonade." He handed over a large thermos and two water bottles. Vin nodded and tucked the drinks into his bag beside the plastic cups. With a clearing of his throat, Carmichael began yammering again, and Vin had to conceal his wince as he rearranged some items to fit the second bottle.

"Wayne, I have verified with Ms. Reingold that there is no arranged grouping system– so. Want to be my partner~?" He gave a dazzling white-toothed smile to the young Wayne.

Damian stared incredulously at him. He could certainly see where Bridgerton's confidence originated; every aspect of Bridgerton was perfectly groomed, from his hair to his pointed shoes and perfectly ironed and creased uniform pants. He was overall clean and orderly.

His eyes roved over to Vincent.

The boy with questionable morals was knelt down, muttering a slew of curses as he struggled to zip his bag shut. His dark chocolate hair was in ruffled, tufty disarray; his uniform shirt was untucked with a few buttons undone from the morning rush. His tan face had a snowy white bandage patched onto his cheek from a scuffle last night during his night job. (He had encountered one of Catwoman's babies in an alley who had gone into heat and earned himself a few scratches as he returned the silky white cat to the woman). There was a streak of blood on his blazer's sleeve and a stain of motor oil brushing the skin of his neck from the small tune-up he had given his motorcycle. He was a disheveled mess, honestly.