They talked about nothing particularly important for several minutes.
The weather, mostly.
The mess the Beast had left behind after his massacre at the banquet.
Luthor’s latest attempt to prove to the world that he was better than Superman by building a superhero robot capable of doing Superman’s job, and how that failed spectacularly (the robot exploded and nearly killed three dozen people, only for Superman himself to swoop in and save the day, which resulted in Luthor accusing Superman of sabotaging the robot).
Mattheus had to admit, accidentally proving Superman’s usefulness while trying to make him obsolete took an impressive amount of talent.
Holly relaxed little by little, though her attention continued to drift toward the bottles behind him whenever the conversation paused.
Mattheus busied himself preparing another customer’s americano.
“What brought you to my little pub?” he asked.
“I didn’t expect to see you again.
Not that I’ve ever seen you before,” he added with a wink, earning a smile from her.
Holly traced one finger along the edge of her saucer.
“I don’t know.
I was walking, and then I remembered this place.”
“The place where you have definitely never been before.”
Her lips twitched.
“Yeah.
That one.”
Mattheus set the americano down for his customer, accepted the money, and turned towards her.
“And is everything all right with your friend whom I have also never seen?”
Holly’s brief smile disappeared.
“Selina’s fine.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
She looked into her cappuccino and Mattheus waited.
He could have filled the silence with another question, changed the subject, or offered some meaningless reassurance, but people often spoke when the silence became heavier than whatever words they were trying to avoid.
Holly lasted twelve seconds.
“I don’t think I fit in her world anymore.”
Mattheus leaned against the counter.
“Why not?”
“Because she’s…” Holly waved one hand, searching for the right words.
“She’s different.
She left Gotham for some time, and when she came back, she was this worldly woman.
Fancy clothes, fancy penthouse in the best part of the city, parties with rich people.
Even the way she walks is different.”
Mattheus could believe that.
Catwoman moved with a (no pun intended) feline grace.
“How long were you apart?” he asked.
“She was gone for about two years, but we haven’t really talked in…” Holly looked away.
“Longer than that.
Not properly, at least.
I figured I didn’t fit into her life anymore.”
“But she kept making space for you, didn’t she?”
Holly frowned.
“What?”
“When you needed her, she came right away.”
Holly said nothing.
“She obviously cares about you a great deal.”
“That doesn’t mean I fit!” Holly’s voice rose before she lowered it again.
“I’m not one of those fancy high-society women.
I wouldn’t know what to say to those people.
I’d embarrass her.”
“Did Selina say that?”
“She doesn’t have to.”
“That sounds like a no.”
Holly’s fingers tightened around the cup.
“She wanted me to…” She hesitated.
“She wanted me to learn how to eat with all those forks and knives and go to some dinner thing with her.”
“Did she invite you or order you?”
“What difference does that make?”
“A rather large one.
An invitation means she wanted to include you.
An order means she wanted to control you.”
Holly’s eyes shifted away.
“She was teaching me all that fancy crap.
That’s not who I am.”
“Who are you?”
The question stopped her.
“What?”
“You said that isn’t who you are.
So who are you?”
Holly opened her mouth, then closed it.
Mattheus placed the cloth aside.
“You don’t have to become some high-society lady.
You don’t have to change how you dress, how you talk, the music you like, or everything else about yourself just because Selina wants to teach you which fork you’re supposed to use for salad.”
“Then you agree with me.”
“No.”
Her frown deepened.
“I think deciding you can’t learn something because it isn’t who you are is a terrible excuse.”
Holly stared at him.
“Knowing which fork to use doesn’t change who you are.
It just means you know which fork to use.
You can learn, go to that fancy dinner, hate every second of it, and then never attend another one for the rest of your life.
But refusing to learn because you’ve already decided what kind of person you’re allowed to be?” Mattheus shook his head.
“That only builds another cage.”
The other conversations in the pub had grown quieter.
Mattheus ignored his nosy customers.
“Human beings were once no different from any other animal trying not to be eaten,” he continued.
“We weren’t the strongest.
We weren’t the fastest.
We didn’t have claws, thick fur, or particularly impressive teeth.
What pushed us forward was that we kept learning.
We wanted more than what we had, so we made tools, built cities, crossed oceans, and eventually found new and exciting ways to argue with strangers through the internet.”
Holly blinked.
“That took a turn.”
“The internet was a mistake, but that is not the point.”
One of his customers snickered.
“No one is born knowledgeable or sophisticated,” Mattheus said.
“Some people are born into families that give them every opportunity.
Others have to fight for every little thing.
That isn’t fair, but being born poor or having a hard life doesn’t mean you have to let those circumstances define the limits of what you can become.”
Holly looked down at the biscuit she had not yet touched.
“Easy to say.”
“Yes,” Mattheus agreed.
“Much harder to do.”
That made her look up.
“But difficult and impossible are not the same thing.
There are rich people who inherited everything and still became useless idiots.
There are scientists, artists, athletes, and business owners who began with almost nothing and reached the top of their fields.
What matters is whether you keep moving.”
He tapped one finger against the counter.
“You don’t need to become Selina.
You don’t need to become anyone except yourself.
But you should never treat the person you are today as the final version of you.
Learn something.
Choose a goal.
Find a dream, even if it is a small one.
Give yourself somewhere to go.”
Holly remained silent.
“Because if you spend your entire life standing in the same place,” Mattheus finished, “you can’t act surprised when you never arrive anywhere else.”
The pub was completely quiet.
A man sitting near the window slowly lowered his fork and stared at him with his mouth half open.
“Dude,” he said.
“That was so deep.”
Mattheus turned his head.
“Shut up, Kevin.”
The room broke into laughter.
Holly covered her mouth, but he saw her smile.
She drank the rest of her cappuccino slowly, lost in her own head.
Mattheus left her alone with her thoughts and returned to work, serving two beers and carrying a plate of eggs and toast to the table near the window.
Several minutes later, Holly slid off the stool and reached into her pocket.
“How much?”
“It’s on the house.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
She looked at him as though trying to decide whether accepting the coffee came with some hidden condition.
Mattheus found that a little sad.
So many Gothamites seemed so unused to even the smallest gestures of kindness that they automatically assumed everything came with a price, some hidden danger, or fine print they had failed to notice.
Finally, she nodded.
“Thanks, Matt.”
“You’re welcome, stranger.”
Holly walked toward the door, hesitated with one hand on the handle, then glanced back at him.
“I think… maybe I’ll talk to her.”
“Sounds terrifying.”
“Yeah.”
“Good luck.”
She left.
The door closed behind her, and Mattheus picked up her empty cup.
Kevin leaned over the back of his chair.
“Are you a bartender or a shrink?”
“Fuck off, Kevin.”
“I’m serious.
That chick, Frank—”
Mattheus carried the cup toward the kitchen.
“What about Frank?”
“You got him to talk to his ex-wife.”
“I told him drunkenly calling her at two in the morning didn’t count as communication.”
“And you convinced him he wasn’t going to turn into his dad just because he got angry sometimes.
Now he sees his kids every weekend.”
“Frank did that,” Mattheus said.
“I just told him that a horrible dad wouldn’t spend so much time worrying about his kids or his parenting.
Besides, the fact that he was scared of becoming his dad was a pretty good sign.”
Another customer turned on his stool.
“What about Laurent?”
Mattheus stopped.
“What about him?”
“You got him off drugs.”
“I banned him from the pub until he stopped showing up high.”
“Then you helped him get that factory job.”
“I told him they were hiring.”
Kevin lifted his coffee toward him.
“Bartender-shrink.”
Mattheus pointed at him with Holly’s empty cup.
“Listening to customers is part of the job description.
So is shutting up when necessary, offering advice when it might help, and, more often than not, getting people drunk.
It does not make me a therapist.”
“Whatever you say, Doctor Matt.”
“Your next coffee is double price.”
“Abuse of medical authority.”
Mattheus rolled his eyes and disappeared into the kitchen before the conversation could become any stupider.
He placed the cup inside his wonderful, beautiful, ludicrously expensive dishwasher.
Ten seconds later, all the cups and dishes emerged perfectly clean and dry.
Best purchase he had ever made.
***
Hours passed.
By late afternoon, the Crossroads was much busier.
Every table was occupied, the TV showed a baseball game no one seemed to be watching, and the steady hum of conversation filled the room.
Mattheus stood in the kitchen finishing an order for two pizzas, a basket of chicken wings, and a serving of fries.
The pizzas were almost ready.
He turned the wings in their sauce, checked the fries, and heard the front door open.
“I’ll be there in two minutes!” he shouted.
“There’s no rush.”
The familiar, low voice drifted through the kitchen doorway, and Mattheus nearly dropped the pizza.
No way.
He knew that voice.
He leaned sideways and peeked into the pub.
Selina Kyle stood near the end of the counter in a black dress and a long coat, looking far too elegant for four in the afternoon.
Her green eyes found his across the room, and a slow smile curved her lips.
Well.
This probably had nothing to do with the free cappuccino.