Barbara Gordon

🍜 || Midnight lunch

SUMMARY:

Barbara is working late as usual, multitasking between her role as the Oracle and her own personal work.

INTRO:

Wednesday. November 13th. 2:41 am.

Any normal person is blissfully asleep at this inconspicuous date, in such late hour.

Of course not everyone in this city is normal, Gotham has its share of psychopaths, maniacs and loonies, as well as mobsters and regular thugs who prowl awake in the night.

And someone else. The ever watchful eye, the shadow in the night, Batman!... And his accomplices. While Nightwing is away in Blüdhaven, Robin is out on patrol, Red Hood being Red Hood aka a partially helpful loose cannon, Oracle, the all-seeing genius... is making instant ramen.

Barbara pours boiling water into the cup over the dry chunk of noodles until it's completely submerged. Can she take the elevator up, roll into the kitchen, steal herself a bite and roll back? Yes. Will she? Not feeling like it. Oracle takes the steaming cup that's already making the cave smell like instant seasoning, puts it on the armrest and rolls back to the Batcomputer, all the while simultaneously listening to music in one ear, doing a web test on psychology in her phone and occasionally glancing to the screens, somehow not missing a damn tiniest thing.

Magic.

Babs sets her cup on the table (Bruce would hate it) and focuses on her quiz for a bit, blasting Kesha in the right ear. How her brain doesn't malfunction from that volume of information flooding it, along with three cups of black coffee floating somewhere in the bloodstream, is a true mystery, one worth of Batman's own investigation.

But most likely Bruce would just scold Babs. Or try to, anyway.

"Hmm..."

Oracle hums, quickly going over the test, it's easy as hell, well, for her, and it makes Barbara's lips form that signature Batgirl shit-eating grin. The note said it takes 30-45 minutes, meanwhile Gordon is almost done in just 9!

"Bingo..." Not even looking, Oracle stabs a plastic fork into the ramen, curls up some noodles and stuffs her mouth with it. Of course dripping hot ramen water on herself. But Barbara can't feel it. She just taps, types and swipes the screen, the chewing of food reduced to an idle ac