Bruce watched Rarity carefully over the next few years. While she had asked to be told his story, he was concerned about how learning it would affect her. It had occurred to him that it was a distinct possibility that she would follow his example and attempt to don the 'cape and cowl', as she put it, despite the new suit design having no cape (a safety concern with the increase of jet propelled vehicles).
He needn't have worried, though. Instead, Rarity had chosen to follow in her grandparents footsteps. She dedicated herself to the company and the city, doing all in her power to improve both. She had also thrown herself into the various social events they were invited to with more verve than Bruce himself had ever been able to bring to such occasions. He wasn't sure how she managed it, but she remembered everything everyone told her, and was always able to ask polite questions of those she met again that showed it, showing how much she cared about everyone. Whether upper crust, middle merchant, or even Wayne Enterprises' night janitor, she knew them all and showed with social queries how much she cared.
Between this and her own personal dedication to seeing to it that each quarter was better for Wayne Enterprises than the one before - without losing sight of the long term plans and goals - had led to some interesting water cooler talk. Bruce had overheard some of his employees speaking regretfully of how young Rarity was, and longingly for the day when she reached her majority and Bruce turned the company over to her.
The fact that he'd discovered her playing dress up with Ace again when he returned to the office after overhearing that conversation may have contributed to the laughing fit he refused to explain to her.
Even through all this, she still kept up with her martial arts training and her own day trading. Bruce inwardly marveled at how much energy and focus she had. Even for full grown adults, it was incredible. Either her race was naturally detail focused and heavily cerebral, or she had found some means of boosting her already great suppressed experience and natural talent.
Finally, one day over breakfast when she was 8, he had to ask. "Rarity," he said, broaching the subject carefully, "you seem to have a real knack for people."
Rarity smiled softly. "It's not that difficult, Father," she explained. "Through luck, I've arrived at the peak of the social ladder. When someone that important remembers even small details about you, it makes you feel special. That's all I do, really. With mild small talk, I remind people that whatever their class or monetary status or skills, they matter. And coming from me, they believe it." She giggled. "Being an adorable unicorn dressed up all pretty to melt hearts doesn't hurt that."
Bruce smiled. He'd seen even hardened soldiers at a veteran's banquet turn to putty when Rarity made an effort to be cute to win them over. "But how do you remember so many little details, and know so much ahead of time when we go somewhere?" Bruce rubbed the back of his head. "I've tried to do such things, but I confess you seem to have surpassed my limits."
Rarity giggled again. "I do my research ahead of time...and made something of a memory aid." Smiling, she levitated her glasses out of the pocket of the blouse she was wearing. She floated them over to him.
They were rather fancy half-moon glasses, more fashionable than functional since Rarity had no eyesight problems. However, seeing her wearing them had often made adults around her melt at how she was 'trying so hard to be grown up' for him. Taking the glasses in hand, he examined them, wondering how they could be such an aid.
It didn't take him long to see it. The lenses themselves were actually miniature computer screens on the inside, ready to project information. The power supply was in the frame, more than enough to power it for a full day on an hour's charge. And each bead of the chain was a state of the art mobile drive, each one able to hold a full terabyte of data.
"I collate everything I learn about someone with their picture and name," Rarity explained. "The moment their image is recognized by the lenses, they project the name for me. When I call them by name, the data is called up in order of importance that I dictate based on how they spoke of them when last we chatted, as well as a basic algorithm that sorts the information by basic rules of psychology." She smiled. "And if I ever run out of room, I can always attach a few more beads to the chain." Demonstrating, she used her magic to unhook the chain, showing link points at where the beads connected to plug in even more bead drives. "The jacks also move around the bead, so the chain can move fluidly," she explained, "while also allowing me to coil them up if I'm going to be engaging in an activity that would run the risk of them being caught on something."
Bruce couldn't help but grin at the ingenuity. "And you couldn't have had it remotely access a data storage unit at home, why?" he asked, not critically but curiously.
"Do you have any idea what that level of data access would do to bandwidth usage at one of the big social events?" Rarity asked, shocked. "Not to mention that the delay of data transfer would be noticeable, and it would be easy to figure out what I was doing. Really, Father, don't be so gauche!"
Bruce couldn't help but chuckle slightly. It was true that her current set up allowed her to read the data as though she were recalling it from her own mind. A closer look showed that the delay on loading from the drives to the screens was less than the time it took to get through general social pleasantries. He handed the glasses back to her. "Very clever, Rarity," he said proudly. "I've used systems like this myself for other things, but never quite so compact or easily concealable."
Picking up the newspaper - he still insisted on getting hard copy, even if the paper was no longer made from trees - he sighed. Crime rates were on the rise again. After word of 'Batman pulls a gun' got around in the criminal underworld, criminal activity had taken a nose dive to the point the police could handle it on their own. Bruce had hoped that would last. Then again, it had lasted for eight years before criminals had taken the absence of Batman as license to start increasing their activities again. Once more, his city was being polluted with crime.
"Don't even think about it, Father," Rarity spoke out suddenly, an intense scold in her voice.
"Think about what?" Bruce asked, managing to sound innocent.
"Don't be coy, Father," she replied intensely. "I know what article is on that page, and I know where your mind would go. I don't care how good of shape you're in for your age, you hung up the cape and cowl because your heart couldn't take it anymore, and no matter how much medicine and my magic has eased it, your heart is still no longer up to fighting crime." She sipped her tea. "So don't even think about it. I've been looking up more magic spells online, and while I still can't do much, I can apply a magical seal to prevent you from getting into the Batcave if I have to."
Bruce sighed. While the initial spell she'd used to calm his labored heart when they first met hadn't been needed since, she had also looked into magic she could use to strengthen his heart. As a result, he hadn't had an attack or falter since, even with the more active lifestyle Rarity's tastes in socializing and their combat training forced on him. But the condition that forced him to hang up the 'cape and cowl' hadn't gone away just because he'd learned how to manage it.
Turning the page, Bruce decided to bring up something he'd noticed in Rarity's behavior. "You seem to have taken a special interest in the McGinnis family," he commented dryly.
Rarity smiled softly. "Well, Warren and Mary are such wonderful people. Of course I'd enjoy their company."
Bruce glanced at her over the top edge of his paper. "And it just so happens to be coincidence that you've managed with a few choice words at the right time to head off several possible marital problems?"
Rarity shook her head, tossing her mane back over her shoulder. "Well, if I did some good, all for the better. Terry certainly deserves a happy family home."
"Ah yes, their son," Bruce said calmly. "He's only a couple years younger than you. You seem oddly fond of him."
Rarity glanced away. "He's interesting," she replied dryly. "I believe he has a lot of potential."
Frowning, Bruce folded his paper and stared directly at her. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked firmly.
Rarity shivered slightly, then looked back at him. "It's probably nothing important, but...there's something about him I don't quite understand. I was...hoping to figure it out before I brought it up."
Bruce sat back. "Well, perhaps we can figure it out together," he offered.
Rarity sighed. "I suppose. I'm not having much luck, though I was hoping to solve my first mystery myself." She looked up. "I don't know how else to put it but...he smells like you."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"But not in the normal sense," Rarity explained. "He doesn't actually smell like you at all...but something in his scent always calls you to mind, for some reason." She shrugged. "I'm not sure what to make of that."
Bruce sat back. "I admit I'm not really sure what to make of it, either." He shrugged. "This is obviously something unique to your senses. If there is a mystery there, you're the only one who can solve it. Tell me if you do, though."
"I shall," Rarity replied, picking up her own paper. "Oh, Femme Fashions is having a sale!"
Bruce chuckled, rolling his eyes at Rarity's pleasure at shopping sales.