The hunched figure muttering a string of expletives at his desk amused the blonde.
The floor was poorly lit. You’d think a police department would turn on some lights or something, especially at night, in Gotham.
They must have been on patr-hahaha.
Toying with an idea that could very well get her shot, Stephanie swung herself noisily into a seated position onto the desk behind the seated figure and spoke, her voice the only other sound on the floor.

“You got shelved from a case too, huh?”

Whipping around, startled, Detective Nick Gage's hand went towards his holster as he jumped to his feet, however stopped, upon seeing the amused expression of the purple and black (or was it just darker purple?) clad blonde batling perched cross-legged in front of him.
Running a hand through his hair and letting out a heavy sigh, the pacing began.

“I could have shot you!”

“Doubtful.”

She responds brightly. She didn't doubt the marksmanship, but she trusted her suit more than his bullets.

“How did you even get in here?!”

“Bat.”

Straightening her back, hands on her knees, already growing bored of the interrogation.

“...What did you say about getting shelved about a case?”

Breaking into a grin, turning her attention to the drawer by her knee, flicking it open and poking around inside it, she shrugged a shoulder casually.

“Weren't you working the Inzerillo case? And you got told to drop it because there wasn’t 'enough evidence' or whatever?”

“I don't even want to know what you've got bugged around here. At this point, between you and the Commissioner having the big Bat practically on speed dial I'm learning to just roll with the creepy bat thing.”

Exaggeratedly gasping at being called creepy, before mock pouting, Stephanie got to her feet.

“You wound me. I'm the nice one. Aaaaanyway, what we are going to do, is not listen to our bosses, and go get evidence. I happen to know Jack Inzerillo, Enrico's babiest of boys is going to be at the damn masquerade gala that all the snobbiest of snobs will be at-”

“Oh no”

“-and you, good detective, would probably clean up nicely. Go shave, comb your hair, straighten your tie, and meet me in the parking lot in fifteen minutes.”

“I already hate everything about this.”

“When have I ever steered you wrong?”

With a grumble of reluctant agreement, Saint Nick of the Gotham PD set off for the washroom, before poking his head back out the door in a moment of clarity.

“Wait, shelved too? Our bosses? Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Batgirl what-”

However, the blonde was gone.
Fifteen minutes, and a million questions of his own sanity later, Gage left the precinct, out into the parking lot, spotting the purple tank-like vehicle idling. Sighing to himself, shifting his jacket to his other arm, he moved towards it, with increasing reluctance.
The heavily tinted window rolled down, and the driver called out to him.

“Get in, loser, we're going crime fighting.”

Upon first inspection, the long dark hair, black full sleeved slinky evening gown and silver masquerade mask were a great disguise, but of course, once she spoke, it was very clearly Batgirl.

“I… don't know what I was expecting…”

Nick slowly slipped into the passenger seat, as she grinned.

“Oh, it gets better. I've got a vehicle change and a jacket lined up for you. It might be a bit big but it'll do the job. Two quick things. Not my first time under cover, like, at all, so if you could follow my lead, that'd be great.”

Steph started driving while she was talking, Nick looking around at, well, everything on the inside of the Compact.

“Sure. I can do that. I can’t say I've done under cover… That's some real dark stuff in the police field.”

Batgirl snorted in amusement.

“Goody two shoes. Number two. My name for this is going to be Ella Malone. You don't have to worry too much about the first name. Elle, Elly, whatever. The Malone is the part you need. You follow?”

“Uh, sure? I follow…”

With a quick glance at him, making sure he was in fact following, she nodded.

“Good. Now. Don't actually say Malone unless you're in trouble. Like, if you think any of the gangsters catch wind of you being a cop there under false pretenses? That's when you Malone up, you dig?”

Nick stopped to frown at her.

“I mean, I 'dig', but… I've seen you jump into a prison riot without a plan from a helicopter, again, without a plan. What’s the deal.”

Laughing, Steph just shook her head at him, raising a finger.

“Ah! But I did have a plan. And I was the only one in danger with that one if it went wrong. There’s a lot of civilians here. No crossfire.”

Stopping the Compact to pull up alongside a 'borrowed' Astin Martin, Stephanie smoothly transitioned from one vehicle to the next, her heels in hand, and scooping up a clothing bag, holding it out.

“I will be promptly murdered if you get blood on that jacket. Don’t bleed on it. It probably costs more than my entire tuition.”

After blinking in disbelief a few times, and dropping his jacket into the Compact before it got locked and armed, Nick looked at the currently-non-blonde incredulously.

“If this just… life, for you lot?”

“Hm? Fancy dress and fast cars? Do you not pay attention to the cape and jet engine cars? The dramatic roof leap exits? Masquerade balls are so last century. I want space parties.”

“....I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not.”

“Pfft. What kind of detective are you then.”

“...Did you steal this car?”

She grinned broadly, wiggling her fingers on the steering wheel.

“No. I borrowed it. With delayed permission.”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna lose my job.”

Throwing the Astin Martin into gear with a roll of her eyes and set off for the final destination.

“Nick. Sweetie. Your entire department functions thanks to vigilantism, and internalised corruption, you've been buddy buddy with me for ages, and now is when you start caring about laws? Relax, oh my god.”

Closing his eyes and hunching forward, resting his head against the dashboard, letting out a strangled groan of a scream, Stephanie grins wider, unable to hide the glee in her voice.

“Watch the leather, Nick.”

The bewildered glare shot at her as he snapped up his head was well worth it.

Arrived, parked and finalizing the few last thing, Stephanie still seated, and putting her shoes on. Nick sighed, wearily pulling the jacket out, and putting it on.

“So, what’s the exact play?”

He asks softly, looking down at her. Grinning up at him, she clicked her fingers and pointed at him.

“We mingle, look like we belong. I'm gonna find ol' Jackie boy, corner him, lift his damn phone, and get the hell out of there.”

“That's the plan? Why do you need me?”

“AH! Well. We both wanna get rid of the Inzerillos, right?”

Nick nodded, frowning, unsure if he just wasn't following something.

“But I was also told to say out of it, I assume because I was pushing too hard. I assume me being here and being spotted would give you some sort of opening?”

“He got it! Now let's roll. Walk like you belong. Because you do. This is your place. You own it. Feel that energy. Work with it.”

And with that, the bouncy walk that was followed typically by a cape was gone, and a confident sashay was in its place.
With Nick not too far behind, chin held high, 'Ella' casually scoped out the crowd as she entered, snagging a champagne flute from a tray as it passed.
Among the first spotted was one she immediately recognised as Bruce Wayne, masquerade or no. She had to work fast, especially if he had his damn lenses in. Turning to face Gage, a smile on her lips, her tone icy as she spoke quietly.

“Gotta move fast. Look like you belong. Just hold a drink. I'm gonna do what I went to school for.”

“Wait, there's a school for… this?”

“Not anymore, I blew it up…”

She mutters, the smile twitching from practiced to genuine for a fraction of a second, leaving Nick confused, concerned, and in search of a drink, perhaps not just to hold.
After what felt like a lifetime, but could have been less than ten minutes, a commotion erupted from somewhere across the ballroom floor.
Abandoning the smalltalk with the bar keep, Nick started towards it, as 'Ella' burst out of the mass of people, holding the hem of her dress up, to storm away, as a few other men seemed to be 'handling' him, and one dark haired individual watched her leave, to leave himself.

“What-”

Gage started, for Stephanie to grab his arm and yanked him toward the door, with surprising strength.

“Time to go. Explain on the move.”

“But did you-”

“Yes. He's handsy, but yes. Mission success. ...I think we're about to be in a fat lot of trouble.”

Scowling and following her back to the Aston, shaking her grip loose, Nick, heeding the warning of death earlier, started taking off the jacket.

“What, did you see more of the Inzerillo in there?”

“No, worse.”

“Would you stop being so cryptic?!”

The beleaguered detective flings an arm up in the air in frustration, as a soft rippling of fabric and a shadow pass overhead. Hanging her head with a sigh and pointing in the direction of the lightest of footfalls sounding on the other side of the car, Stephanie grimaces.

“Hi B-mannnnn….”

She sings songs in forced cheer, swinging her arms awkwardly, shooting an apologetic look towards Gage, forgetting her current mask isn’t her cowl, and her expressions can’t be read as well.

“Was it worth it, Batgirl?”

“Well… Actually… Yes. Yes it was. I got what I wanted!”

After a beat of silence that felt like it dragged on for eternity, and the Bat having circled around the vehicle, Stephanie whined in discomfort and took the phone from where she stashed it; down her bra, before passing it over.
With the hand still extended, turning his gaze to the Detective watching the exchange, he looked him over.

“Nick Gage. 'Saint Nick' You're meant to be one of the good ones. How'd she drag you into this?”

Scratching the back of his head, Nick shrugs, answering honestly.

“I've been asking myself that the entire time, sir. She talks so fast, you lose track of one thing and she's roped you into something else.”

“Hn. Get home, detective. You’ll get your jacket back.”

With a stalled nod, knowing not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Nick awkwardly handed the 'borrowed' jacket back to Stephanie, and took off walking, away, far away, from any more bat craziness for the night. Stephanie, seeing the still outstretched hand, tried hanging the jacket on it.

“No. The keys. And my wallet.”

Slowly grinning, taking them from the other side of the hidey hole, and sheepishly putting them into his palm, she folded her arms.

“How long did it take you to notice though…?”

“...too long.”