Saturday

On February 19, 2022, Wayne Manor was bustling with energy as Bruce Wayne's 42nd birthday party was in full swing. The grand hall was elegantly decorated, adorned with exquisite flowers and soft lighting. It was crazy, borderline chaotic. Bruce had hired seven additional professional chefs. Aaron eyed them as soon as they entered–scanning and copying their skills like Kakashi Hatake from Naruto.

If only Aaron had been told in advance. Tim had told him it was Bruce's birthday on the day of–that servers and chefs would arrive to help them make the arraignments. Given the lack of warning, he assumed the Bat Family also forgot. As incredible as they were in vigilantism, they seemed to be lacking in many basic facets of life. In other words, they would be idiots.

The names of the chefs were irrelevant. In fact, they refused to banter and breathed in and out the culinary art. See, Bruce Wayne had to keep up appearances and thus threw a semi-private birthday party. Unfortunately, Aaron was caught up in the cross-fire and actually had to do his job as head chef. It wasn't easy.

He texted Carrie Kelley while he had time to breathe, which was in the seclusion of the bathroom.

< Aaron: it's super busy

< Aaron: have chloe stay with you.

< Babysitter Carrie: Understood, sir.

< Babysitter Carrie: I'll add it to the payroll.

It wasn't his payroll but rather Bruce Wayne's. He said he would take care of the majority of the expenses pertaining to Chloe, including babysitting, schooling, etc. Although they hadn't told Stephanie yet of their maternal relations, Bruce promised he would watch over Chloe before the inevitable. Assuming Aaron would let him.

Aaron did. He had no reason to refuse.

'Now…it's back to the kitchen.'

In the bustling kitchen of Wayne Manor, the air crackled with a sense of urgency as orders flew in, demanding the chefs' undivided attention.

"Chef, we need three more plates of the seared scallops, and we need them now!" shouted one of the chefs, his voice filled with urgency.

Aaron's calm demeanour was unwavering and he nodded in acknowledgment and swiftly moved to the grill, searing the scallops to perfection. The sizzle and aroma filled the kitchen like liquid.

Amidst the chaos, the chefs seamlessly coordinated their movements, their culinary dance a symphony of skill and precision. Pots clanged, knives sliced through ingredients, and timers buzzed, punctuating the intense atmosphere.

"Keep those risotto pans stirring, we can't afford any lumps!" bellowed another chef, his voice cutting through the commotion. The rhythmic stirring intensified as the chefs diligently tended to the pots, ensuring the creamy risotto achieved the perfect consistency.

In the midst of the frenzy, dialogue punctuated the air, quick exchanges filled with instructions and reassurances.

"Mr. Reigner, we're running low on tomato bisque! Can you whip up another batch?" called out a chef, a note of urgency in her voice.

"Consider it done!" Aaron replied, swiftly grabbing the necessary ingredients and setting to work on the aromatic soup. The fragrant scent of tomatoes provided a momentary respite from the intensity.

"Hey!"

While stirring a pot, Stephanie Brown's voice, filled with a hint of mischievous delight, fluttered through the kitchen like a playful melody. She skipped to Aaron, standing beside him, arms linked behind her.

"Busy?" she asked.

Aaron focused on the pot. "Yep."

She hummed and observed his skills for a minute. Her odd silence tensed him up. Stephanie Brown…she was Chloe's mother. She was important to him and she didn't even know it.

"I was hoping you would help make our food but I see you're too busy," Stephanie said, sighing. "I'll see you later."

"You can take some if you like," Aaron said.

"No way." Stephanie turned and gestured at the various plates, pots, and food. The smell was smoky and nearly haze to the mind. It was that good–that magical. "You put so much effort into this. Me and Tim will cook up something."

She winked and dashed off. From his peripheral, he watched her. He wondered when the day would come when he would tell Stephanie about Chloe–or vice-versa. Chloe had the right to know who her mother was.

The servers came and went. The tables were set. Fresh and timely, that was Mr. Wayne's expectations and he tried to fulfil them to his fullest ability. Aaron hated having expectations thrust on him but he had a job to do. With a subtle use of his magic, quietly sharpening his skills and a little more, everything was in proper order. The guests had already arrived. It was only a matter of taste.