Ra's al Ghul.
The name alone was enough to make most men second-guess every word that left their mouths. Quentin merely smiled, setting his cigar carefully into the ashtray before extending his hand across the space between them. Ra's regarded the gesture for a brief moment before accepting it, his grip firm without being forceful. It was the handshake of a man who had no need to prove himself.
"Kieran Everleigh," Ra's said evenly, releasing his hand. "I've wished to satisfy my curiosity regarding you for some time."
Quentin leaned back comfortably into his chair, retrieving his whiskey with an easy smile. "Curiosity? Well now, that's a dangerous thing to admit to someone you've only just met."
"It can be."
"And yet here we are."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Ra's mouth.
"So we are."
Neither man hurried to fill the silence that followed. Below them, the last of the guests filtered into the auction hall while attendants quietly extinguished several of the chandeliers, leaving the room illuminated by warm pools of golden light. The low murmur of conversation gradually faded until only scattered whispers remained.
An elderly auctioneer stepped onto the stage and welcomed the gathering before reminding everyone of the rules. Discretion. Respect. No violence. The speech was brief, practiced, and clearly unnecessary. Everyone present already knew the expectations.
The first item was carried onto the stage.
A leather portfolio.
"Our opening lot," the auctioneer announced, "contains confidential architectural plans for a soon-to-be-constructed S.T.A.R Labs research facility."
The bidding began almost immediately.
Quentin watched several numbered paddles rise with mild fascination before turning his attention back toward Ra's.
"I have to admit," he said, "this is far more civilized than I expected."
"Civilized men are capable of committing the greatest atrocities," Ra's replied calmly. "History has demonstrated that often enough."
"I can't argue with that."
"No."
Ra's folded his hands over the head of his cane, his attention lingering on Quentin rather than the auction itself.
"You have expanded remarkably quickly."
Quentin raised an eyebrow.
"My hotels?"
"Your hotels."
"I'd like to think they're quite nice."
One folder became another. Corporate acquisitions. Military procurement schedules. Government contracts that had not yet been announced. Security blueprints belonging to some of the largest companies in America. Each document sold for staggering amounts, yet not a single buyer hesitated.
"They are, I find it courages to open your hotels to the clientele you carry." Ra's continued
Quentin placed his hand on his cheek, "What is the point of anything if not to break past norms and try to create something new and audacious." He took a puff, "Your people seem to enjoy staying at my hotels."
Ra's cracked a grin, "They do. I'm glad you noticed."
"I figured you wanted me too, some of them were obvious you know?"
"I do."
The auction continued without pause, eventually moving away from intelligence and into property. Entire office buildings changed ownership within seconds. Island estates vanished beneath raised paddles. Abandoned military installations, warehouses, factories and private airfields all found buyers among the unseen audience.
Quentin watched one particularly isolated mountain compound sell for an amount that would have funded half the hotels he'd built in Gotham. He let out a low whistle before glancing sideways. "You strike me as a man who's purchased a fortress or two over the years."
"A man accumulates many things across the centuries," Ra's answered.
"Real estate included?"
"Only when it serves a purpose."
"You don't seem like someone who enjoys collecting."
"I do not."
"What do you collect then?"
For the first time since entering the room, Ra's was quiet long enough that Quentin wondered if he'd refuse the question altogether. Instead, the ancient man answered without the slightest hint of pride.
"Time."
Quentin blinked, "I like that I think I'll steal it."
Ra's smiled, "Gotham, star city and now metropolis. Are you planning to expand anymore?" He asked
"Maybe, I enjoy collecting new cities."
The lights dimmed once more as attendants rolled another display onto the stage. This time armed security accompanied them, their hands never straying far from concealed weapons. Beneath reinforced panes of glass rested objects that looked as though they belonged in museums rather than private collections. Ancient bronze tablets covered in faded script, ceremonial daggers blackened by age, fragments of carved stone bearing symbols Quentin couldn't identify, rings set with gemstones that seemed almost too vibrant despite their apparent age, and scroll cases whose leather had cracked centuries ago.
Even Ra's posture shifted almost imperceptibly.
Quentin noticed.
"So this," he murmured, "is the interesting part."
"For some."
"You don't sound impressed."
"I have lived long enough to know appearances deceive."
The auctioneer gestured proudly toward the collection. "Our final selection this evening consists of artifacts whose histories have proven… difficult to verify."
A knowing murmur passed through the room.
Quentin leaned forward slightly, studying the collection below. "Are any of them real?"
Ra's considered the display before answering. "Some are exactly what their owners claim."
"And the rest?"
"Clever forgeries."
Quentin smiled. "I suppose that's part of the excitement."
"No."
Ra's' eyes never left the stage.
"The truly dangerous relics are never sold."
That answer lingered between them.
Quentin rested his forearms on his knees, cigar smoldering lazily between his fingers as he watched another artifact carried onto the platform. "Tell me something, Ra's. You've lived through empires. You've watched kingdoms rise and fall. Men like you usually develop… rather strong opinions."
"They do."
"So what's yours?"
Ra's remained silent long enough that Quentin wondered if the question had overstepped. When he finally answered, his voice was quieter than before, carrying a conviction that needed no emphasis.
"Civilization is a garden."
Quentin looked at him.
"It flourishes only when tended. Left alone, weeds consume it. Men mistake decay for freedom. Corruption for progress. Weakness for compassion. Every generation believes itself wiser than the last while repeating precisely the same mistakes."
Quentin listened without interruption.
"When the garden becomes overgrown," Ra's continued evenly, "it must be cut back. Painfully, if necessary. Only then can something worthy grow in its place."
A slow smile crossed Quentin's face.
"Batman would absolutely hate that philosophy."
"He does."
"I figured."
Quentin leaned back once more, swirling the last of his whiskey before emptying the glass. "Personally, I don't care much for gardens."
"No?"
"I prefer cities."
Ra's turned toward him.
"Cities fascinate me. They're messy. Loud. Contradictory. You can build something extraordinary from the filth if you understand the people living inside it." Quentin smiled faintly. "You prune the weeds. I would hire them."
For the first time that evening, Ra's al Ghul regarded him with unmistakable interest.
"I see," he said quietly.
"So that is the difference between us."
Quentin nodded once.
"I believe it is."
Neither man spoke again for several moments. Below them, another relic was presented to the crowd while paddles slowly began to rise once more. The auction continued around them, but for the first time since the evening had begun, it felt as though neither man was watching the stage anymore.
Eventually the auctioneer gestured toward a obsidian dagger first.
"Recovered from an excavation in northern Mesopotamia. Accompanying records suggest ritual significance. Authenticity… remains a matter of spirited debate."
Bidding began.
Quentin watched for several moments before casually lifting his paddle. The room acknowledged the new bidder.
Another paddle immediately countered.
Then another.
The price climbed steadily.
Quentin followed it without the slightest sign of concern until it reached a figure he considered unreasonable.
He lowered his paddle.
"I liked the dagger," he admitted.
"It is better that you did not acquire it."
Quentin glanced sideways, "You know something I don't?"
"I know enough."
The dagger sold.
Next came the bronze astrolabe.
The auctioneer claimed it had once belonged to an unnamed court astrologer serving an empire forgotten by history.
Again Quentin bid.
Again someone answered.
Again the price climbed beyond what he considered worthwhile.
He chuckled as he lowered his paddle, "I appear to have expensive tastes."
"You have curious tastes."
"I'll take that."
Finally a cane was revealed, "This cane was used in the late 60's by a stage magician by the name of fantastico. He performed thrice with this cane and it is said he perforated miraculous sets with it. Since his death this cane has been traded down to several others but no one could figure out how to get it to work. With that being said, I will not open up the bidding."
Quentin leaned forward slightly, the amused smile that had lingered on his face growing just a little wider. The dark wood was polished smooth despite its age, intricate carvings winding their way down the shaft before disappearing beneath a silver cap. It was elegant without appearing extravagant, powerful without trying to be. More importantly, he simply liked it.
The auctioneer began speaking, recounting the history already included in the auction booklet. Quentin only half listened. His attention was on the cane itself.
The opening bid rang through the room.
Quentin immediately lifted his paddle.
Someone answered.
He raised it again.
Another bidder refused to back down.
The number climbed steadily, each new offer met almost instantly by someone else hidden away inside one of the dozens of private suites overlooking the floor. Quentin hardly seemed bothered by the escalating price. Instead he settled deeper into his chair, cigar resting comfortably between his fingers as he glanced sideways toward Ra's.
"So…" he began casually before lifting his paddle once more, "you arranged this for something. I usually prefer doing business on the second date, you know, but I have to admit…" Another bid forced his paddle upward again. "…this has been interesting."
Ra's didn't even look away from the auction below.
"What makes you believe I arranged this?"
Quentin laughed, genuinely amused.
"Oh, don't insult my intelligence." He shook his head, taking a slow sip of whiskey before another bidder forced him back into the contest. "I like you, Ra's. Your people have always been excellent guests at my hotels. They follow the rules, they don't cause unnecessary scenes, they pay on time. No pruning required there, I assure you."
For perhaps the first time that evening, the faintest trace of amusement touched the Demon's Head's expression.
"I'm glad."
The bidding climbed again.
Quentin raised his paddle without hesitation.
"So why am I here?"
This time Ra's looked at him.
"I would like for you to visit my home."
Quentin blinked once before barking out a laugh loud enough that a nearby attendant briefly glanced toward the suite.
"Now that," he said, unable to suppress his grin, "sounds like a third-date sort of arrangement. Going to your home feels like it could be rather unhealthy for my continued existence."
"You doubt my hospitality?"
"I wouldn't dare."
Quentin's smile remained effortless as another bidder pushed the price even higher.
"I simply suspect that everyone who leaves your home walks away… changed."
Ra's regarded him for several quiet seconds.
"That is often true."
The auctioneer called another figure.
Quentin sighed dramatically before raising his paddle again.
"Oh, honestly…"
Another bid immediately answered his.
"How rich are these people?"
The room remained silent for only a heartbeat before yet another paddle appeared somewhere across the auction hall.
Quentin finally lowered his own.
"It is a shame," he muttered, shaking his head. "Our first meeting is going to be overshadowed by a rather stubborn collector with remarkably deep pockets."
Without saying a word, Ra's calmly lifted his own paddle.
The room quieted.
No one answered.
The auctioneer looked around the hall once.
Twice.
The gavel struck.
"Sold."
Quentin slowly turned toward the older man, a grin spreading across his face.
"You stole my cane!"
Ra's remained perfectly composed.
"I thought you wanted it."
"I did."
"So I acquired it for you, like you wanted me too."
Quentin laughed harder than he had all evening, leaning back in his chair as he pointed at the Demon's Head with the hand still holding his cigar.
"Look at us."
"We both doubted each other's intelligence."
A faint smile crossed Ra's' face.
"I suspected you understood."
"I suspected you did too."
For several moments they simply watched the attendants remove the cane from the stage while staff began preparing the final paperwork for the evening's successful bidders.
Ra's finally broke the silence.
"I would like to discuss business further."
"So would I."
"When are you available?"
Quentin rubbed thoughtfully at his jaw before chuckling.
"You're asking a businessman that question? My schedule is a disaster."
"Then make time."
"I'll make you a counteroffer." Quentin reached into his jacket and produced one of Kieran Everleigh's embossed business cards, sliding it across the table with two fingers. "Let's trade contact information. We're both busy men, and I have the feeling this won't be the last time we cross paths."
Ra's looked down at the card for a long moment before retrieving one of his own. It was remarkably plain, containing only a name and a single telephone number written in immaculate handwriting. No address. No company. No title.
Quentin picked it up, turning it over between his fingers before looking back toward the ancient man with another easy smile.
"No address?"
"If I wish to see you," Ra's replied evenly, "you will know where to come."
Quentin chuckled, carefully slipping the card into his wallet.
"You certainly know how to make a man curious."
"And you," Ra's observed, rising from his chair as the auction officially drew to a close, "are every bit as interesting as I was led to believe."
Quentin stood as well, smoothing the front of his jacket.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
—-
A/N: not too heavy for conversations and business as it is a first meeting they are both guaging each other