Steph had spent the majority of the social evening down in the Cave, having quickly disappeared after welcoming in Dick and Babs once everyone showed up. Someone had to be down in the Cave, someone had to be watching...she knew the surveillance systems that Bruce kept up and running at all hours. Advanced algorithims that would immediately warn members of the Cave of anything from a small scale bank robbery to the Joker deciding to run amok. But somehow, that wasn't enough for Steph--since taking the Batgirl cowl, not even Bruce had put in more time in the cave and on the streets than Steph. That she was passing any of her college classes was a miracle; and not the minor sort. 

She'd even grown fond of sleeping down in the Cave. It was dank, dark, and at times creepy...but somehow, someway, everything that might repel others about such a space seemed only to make Steph love it more. There was always work to be done, and Steph simply never stopped. Others had thought to voice their concerns that, maybe, Steph was going too deep. Her response? This wasn't her first rodeo; she knew her limits. Steph had gone from mantle to mantle to mantle faster than any Cave boy. And she was the only one outside Barbara herself to start her vigilantism on her own, and unlike Babs, Steph had done it without any connection to the Bat Family.

She was still using a PSU tester to chase down a stray voltage issue in the new computer system for a new vehicle when the alarm went off--not alerting her to criminal mischief, but that her time had run out. It was with something of a sigh that Steph pushed away from her work, put her tools back, and went to shower. And not just shower--Steph was dressing up in ways she rarely did. Yesterday she'd made time to get a mani/pedi, nails glossed and tips frosted wedding white. The make up was more naturally toned, the only real color coming in the barest hint of purple that shadowed her eyes framed with her expert hand in eyeliner. Her hair took a little more time than she'd allowed, but eventually the loosely styled chignon that allowed bangs to frame her face was finished.

The gown itself was a long dark blue taffeta tightly fitted at the bodice that began to loosen at the waist line until it flowed amongst her feet. She smelled of rosewater and lavendar, a faint scent until you got close to her--then it became apparent no scent on her was artificial, Stephanie Brown opting for the alluring power of nature over the overpowering sugary scents of most perfumes. 

"Up," was how Steph greeted the boy in a warm tone not hiding her affection, even if her glossed pink lips tried to hide the smile showing just how adorable she found the sullen boy in that moment. Stephanie was always after Damian Wayne; after him to eat, after him to shower, after him to stop trying to kill everyone. She knew what it was like to be left to yourself too much as a kid. For that very reason, Stephanie Brown refused to let Damian Wayne be taken down by it like she'd been at one time as a young girl.

If nothing else, he'd--eventually--figure out the irritating blonde Batgirl was actually looking after him. That she cared to do so. Smart as Damian was, there was even an outside chance he'd realize such a thing before he turned 40.......not a great chance, but a chance. A thought that made her smile stay on her lips even as she quickly, and with blinding speed, finished tying the boy's tie after he'd stood up and dropped the sketch pad; a pad she snuck a look at. 

"Suit looks good on you. In that dashing, James Bond-dangerous type of way," she lied, but only about the James Bond-dangerous bit. Saying he looked utterly fucking adorable was not something Damian would react well to. Being called dashing and dangerous in the suit he was obviously uncomfortable in?...might just plant a seed in his mind that these suit things weren't so bad, afterall. 

"C'mon, you, escort a girl to the party. Leave the sketch pad--" Damian's face twisted in the confusion and anger of a child unhappy at being told 'no', though the sheer comfort in which Stephanie issued the order left little room for rebuttal. A trick she'd learn from Bruce Wayne. "--trust me, the ex-girlfriend; nothing tortures Tim Drake like this kind of event. You won't want to miss a moment of his misery by looking down at your pad all day."

After walking from the edges of the event to the reception, pausing for a Society section photographer to pose with Damian, sneaking her arm around his slim shoulders and smiling at the camera to pose with the boy--hoping, desperately, that Damian was making that sour face of his for the camera. Judging by the photographer's nervous laughter, Damian had done just that. If Steph couldn't make such a face, at least she could heart that Damian was.

Once arrived, it didn't take Steph long to find the beautiful Timothy Drake...or the presence beside him. Or to point both out to Damian "I think the redhead could take him." It was a joke. One she continued by noting an elderly woman in a rich gown standing not far from Drake and Kate Kane. "She could probably take Tim, too." A crooked smile filled her face at the very mental image of the high society granny taking down Tim Drake, just as Steph waved over at Kate in greeting.