Chapter Text
The first sign of trouble was the sound of a knock—or rather, several knocks—at Liora’s apartment door. Calmly, she was seated cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by meticulously stacked papers, open notebooks, and the faint hum of her laptop calculating probabilities of Gotham patrol efficiencies. Her muttering, quiet but persistent, was filled with numbers, sequences, and algorithmic possibilities.
"...if the patrol rotates at 23.7 degrees per interval, then the probability of intersecting the Joker’s movements increases by 14.2%-"
"Liora!" came a voice from the hallway, loud, insistent, and completely lacking subtlety.
She froze, gaze flicking to the door, covering her papers as if it'd save them from the force of people "Barbara…?"
Before she could process further, the door burst open. Jason’s smirk appeared first, then Damian’s scowl, Dick bouncing in, and finally Tim, trying and failing to look calm.
"Good morning, Calculating Queen, aka pretty lady" Dick announced cheerfully. "You’re coming with us. Gala. Now."
Liora blinked, processing. "Gala? The probability of social interaction at formal gatherings is… inefficient. I do not-"
"It doesn’t matter," Barbara interrupted, grabbing Liora by the arm. "You’re going. You’re dressed up. You’re going to socialize! And no, muttering about patrol efficiencies is not an acceptable excuse."
Tim stepped forward, hesitant. "Uh… maybe we can-"
"Nope," Jason said, waving her off. "You’re coming too, Drake. Everyone’s coming. And she’s coming, whether she likes it or not."
Liora’s eyes flicked from one family member to the next, calm, precise, and calculating. "This is highly irregular. The probability of successful gala attendance under forced conditions is… low."
Damian muttered under his breath. "She has a point."
Dick clapped his hands. "Good thing I don’t care about points. Gala is fun. Galas are fun! And we’re going. Everyone in motion!"
The Apartment Chaos is.. Crap
The Bat-family descended on Liora’s apartment like a controlled storm. Jason began gathering her papers, flipping through them with feigned curiosity. "Calculations on Gotham patrols… you’re a little obsessed, aren’t you?"
Liora muttered numbers under her breath, bending over to gather a notebook. "Obsession is a subjective assessment. This is efficiency modeling."
Barbara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, efficiency. Right now, the efficiency is getting you into a dress and out of here."
Tim tried to help by gathering scattered papers. "Uh… maybe we should-"
"Nope," Dick interrupted, swooping past him dramatically. "All hands on gala extraction! Nothing stops us!"
Cassandra moved with precision, carefully packing a few essentials while avoiding damaging any of Liora’s notes. "This is highly inefficient" she muttered under her breath, "but the odds are in our favor."
Liora’s expression remained calm, though her muttering continued. "…if I’m forced into social parameters, then my time efficiency drops by 38.6%…"
By mid-morning, Liora found herself in a high-end boutique, escorted by the entire Bat-family, which.. well the customers and staff were looking, They where billionaires for fuhs sake!. She was examining a blouse and calculating the optimal color scheme and cut for body shape and formal appearance.
"I still don’t see the point," she muttered. "Clothing does not impact analytical capacity."
Dick grinned. "Oh, come on! Galas are fun! Look at all the fancy stuff! Sparkle sparkle! People! Champagne! Liora, trust me — you’ll love it."
"Fun is relative," Liora replied, eyes scanning the seam lines of a dress she was reluctantly holding.
Tim hovered nearby, trying to offer input. "Uh… maybe the blue one? It… suits you."
Her gaze flicked to him, calm and blank. "Suits me?"
"Yes," he said, voice a little too high. "It… works."
Barbara chuckled. "See? Even Drake agrees. That’s your cue, Calculating Queen. Go with it."
Jason smirked, holding up a glittering accessory. "And look, you can accessorize. Efficiency meets fashion."
Damian scowled but did offer a rare approving nod at Liora’s quick assessment of clothing.
.
The grand doors of the gala opened to reveal a room sparkling with crystal chandeliers, elegantly dressed guests, and the soft hum of orchestral music. Liora’s eyes immediately scanned the room, noting exits, guest positions, and possible social clusters with precise calculation.
Tim, trailing behind her, was both nervous and fascinated. He had watched her analyze everything, and now… she was in her element — composed, calm, and completely commanding attention without even trying.
Barbara whispered, smirking, "Look at that, Tim. She doesn’t need to try. People notice brilliance and poise, She's got the beauties and the brains"
Tim swallowed. "Yeah… I noticed."
Dick, not to be outdone, whispered in Tim’s ear. "And now you’ve got to keep up. Don’t let Calculating Queen outshine you completely!"
Tim’s stomach twisted. Outshine? He wasn’t thinking about competing… exactly.
The family subtly nudged her toward mingling. Alfred had even sent a discreet note with the chauffeur "Miss Vale, please enjoy the evening. Your precision and presence are appreciated."
Liora stepped into the social fray with her usual calm. She didn’t laugh loudly, didn’t force conversation, but she answered questions with precise wit, observed guests quietly, and offered subtle insights that impressed even Gotham’s social elite.
Tim could only watch, fascinated, heart thumping, as the woman who had dominated the Manor games, solved Riddler challenges, and analyzed patrols with unmatched
precision… now held an entire gala in quiet command, and boy..was he falling so bad.