Alfred Pennyworth had finally arrived, with a worried look on his face as he saw Martha crouched low to the ground.
It was only when he was pulling in closer that he could spot the child.
Ah, no matter how you look at it, it's my fault for turning up late.
He let out a heavy sigh that fogged up the glass before him. The man that seemed to be in his late 50's pulled up his sleeve to rub the fog away as he pulled up beside the two. In all his years working for the Wayne's this was the first time he'd slip up.
He was getting rusty.
As he came to a complete stop, he rolled down the side window peering out to have a clearer glimpse of an upset looking girl, wearing a beat-up sweater and ragged looking jeans. Possibly homeless, poor thing.
"Mrs. Wayne, is everything alright? I'm so terribly sorry for arriving so late."
His voice was in true worry, for their safety and more-or-less his job.
Martha had stood up now, taking the girl's hand and leading her to the car door. "Everything is quite alright." Her voice serene as her gloved hand reached for the door handle. The butler quickly unlocked the doors and as they huddled inside locked them right away. Gotham's streets aren't very kind, especially to the wealthy and well-kept.
"Now what's your name, stray kitten?"
The woman said sweetly,
chuckling lightly at the little nickname she had given the girl already.
The kitten replied chattering, and this was taken as a cue to turn the heater on and immediately everyone felt the rush of warmth overcome them. The girl brushed her fingers along the fur coat. Never in her life had she touched something so exquisite.
After a few moments of thinking to herself, even the butler had to look back to catch a few glances.
He'd place his hands on the wheel tapping along the sides with his thumbs.
Martha wanted to handle this situation delicately, but still she had to ask the questions that she knew would have no good outcome.
"That's an elegant name. Do you have a home, a family, anyone we can take you to?"
The child said nothing but turned her head. She didn't want to go back to the orphanage, where they troubled her with chores and beat her for every little thing. There was no one waiting for her there. They didn't even try looking for her. This lady saint was the most she could hope for, but if she opened her mouth she was done for. In the messiness of her thoughts, she bit her lip.
What if they sent me to the cops?
That would be worse. She would be beaten for running away and she'd have to go through a trail of things. Things she doesn't understand.
Martha looked at the butler through the rear-view mirror and nodded. "Let's go home."
"Alright, Mrs. Wayne."
He pressed his foot against the pedal and started making his way to Wayne Manor. It was going to be a quiet long ride.