Brenda Wayne-Gordon's Gotham

Brenda gritted her teeth as she rolled her wheelchair toward the door of the Thomas Wayne Museum of Antiquities, feeling painfully aware of the three dark-haired little girls who clustered around it. Alfred had suggested that she take Kat, Bree, and Clara out to celebrate the lovely day, and she privately wondered what she'd done to tick him off so badly. She'd already seen tabloid stories about how at least one of them was a secret lovechild from some union with this actor or public figure or that, and was sure that this would only add fuel to the fire.

Bree thanked the doorman seriously as he opened the huge carved door, then stepped aside and watched as Brenda rolled inside.

"It's good to see you up, Miss Wayne," said the man respectfully as she passed.

She smiled her socialite smile, eyes dancing with a happiness that she was far from feeling. "Thank you, it's so lovely to be out and about again!"

He touched his cap and smiled, and she faced forward again, wishing that Bree would stop laughing at her. She could read the kid's mind like a book and what it was saying was seriously annoying her.

Come to think of it she understood why Alfred had sent her out today.

Brenda lay and looked thoughtfully out the window, moving the hand that had started working a couple days before. She still couldn't feel it anymore than she could feel any other part of her body, but the movement was encouraging. It, and her being able to speak, where like promises of her eventual recovery.

But she wasn't going to lay around and wait for that.

She frowned and glanced toward the door. "Where are those kids?"