Helena was incredibly dismayed, but she had long learned to hide her reactions from Bat-Mite. His feelings were sometimes easily hurt, and even though he was never malicious, he had so much power that he sometimes could do tremendous damage accidentally.

"Mite, it is really great to see you!" She didn't have to pretend to be enthusiastic; she really did like the little fellow. But knowing that he was here to 'help' was a little scary. She had seen some of his 'helpful' plans go awry. She doubted that she could get him to go away, now that he was here, but maybe she could do some proactive damage control. "I see you've already met Sonia. Thanks for being so quiet while I slept. How would you like some breakfast? I remember how much you like my pancakes."

Sonia had had prior experience with Helena's pancakes as well, and if Bat-Mite really liked them, well, he was pretty weird. Of course, he looked weird and dressed weird, and floated in the air, so she guessed it wasn't that surprising that he might actually like Helena's cooking. But she wasn't interested. "I think I'll stay here and watch TV." Helena was relieved - it was what she had been hoping for. She wanted to talk to the imp alone.

"YUM! I'll help!" He disappeared with a pop. By the time Helena had reached the kitchen, he had popped back in. He handed her a bag "My favorite toppings: chopped carrots and onions! Make sure you use a lot of garlic! That's _MY_ all-time fav-o-rite!" Helena shuddered, but if Bat Mite was occupied with eating, he ought to be safe, at least for a while. "Oh, yeah, I forgot!" he yipped, and popped out again. Seconds later he was back with a pouf! He had a bottle in hand - "Pure Maple Syrup, from my favorite farm in New Hampshire! I left them a golden nugget as payment, like this one..." he waved his hand, and a piece of gold the size of his fist (about as large as a horse chestnut) popped into existence on the table. "Do you think that's enough?"

"I'm sure it is, Mite, I'm sure it is" she responded bemusedly. And she set to work. Within minutes the batter was mixed and the cakes were frying on the griddle. Bat-Mite wanted to help, but Helena firmly reminded him that she was the cook, and if he wanted 'Helena-cakes' he could just wait.

And soon enough, she plopped a plate of pancakes, topped with carrot slices and caramelized onions, down on the table. He floated over to his place, poured on a bunch of maple syrup, and dug in. "Mmmm, GOOD!"

Meanwhile, Bat Lash wandered in from the living room, drawn by the smell of the pancakes. He stopped in astonishment at the meal on the table, which was rapidly disappearing. But he couldn't see Bat Mite. Before he could say anything, Bat Mite spoke up, but Bat Lash couldn't hear him. Bat Lash was astonished to hear Helena talking to empty air.

"Hey, Hel, who's this wimp? Are you guys shacked up?" Mite's squeaky voice showed disapproval.

"It's none of your business, but we are NOT shacked up!" Bat Lash's expression showed sadness at how firmly Helena said that - he had thought he had been making some headway.

"Who are you talking to, 'Lena?" he asked.

"Lena? He calls you Lena? What is he, your husband! I hope not! I'll turn him into a toad! Not that it would be much of a change, he's kind of a toad anyway, isn't he?" Bat Mite had rather a crush on Helena himself.

"No, he's not my husband, and if you turn him into a toad, I'll turn you into dog food!" Bat Lash didn't know whether he should be alarmed or pleased because Helena seemed to be defending him, now. But from whom?

"Lena, what's going on? Who are you talking to."

"Bat Mite, you show yourself, right now, or I won't talk to you for a week!" Suddenly, Bat Lash's eyes got big, as he suddenly saw a very big mean-looking guy in a Batman outfit sitting at the table. Of course, Helena wasn't seeing the same thing Bat Lash was. Bat quickly donned his Maverick persona; it looked like there might be a showdown and Mav was better suited for it than Bat Lash was. "Bat Lash, meet Bat Mite"

"Pleased to meet ya, pahtna!" Maverick stuck out his hand. Helena saw Bit Mite float up and shake it.

"Nice name, Bat!" said Bat Mite. "Are you a cowboy?"

"Thanks, Bat! Nope, I'm a Rivahboat gambler" said Mav with a grin. "And how 'bout ya'll? A prizefighter? Nice outfit, by the way! Batman fan?"

Bat Mite was a little nervous. He didn't want Helena to know about the deception he was practicing on Bat Lash, and the more Lash talked about him, the more he might give away. "I was a good friend with Batman, for a long time before his death. And Robin, too, of course." Even Maverick could hear the pain in his squeaky voice as he talked about Batman. "You might say I'm a magician."

Mav had already figured this out. But he had been hanging around with Helena long enough that he wasn't surprised by her 'odd' acquaintances.

"Say, Helena, those pancakes look pretty good. Got any more?" Helena shuddered and handed him a plate. He loaded up on the carrots and onions, and poured on a generous helping of syrup - and started eating with as much relish as Bat Mite had shown. Helena looked at him like he was crazy, but Bat Mite had a big smile.

Mav noticed the gold nugget sitting on the table. "Hey, where'd that come from?"

"That's mine..." said Bat Mite, reaching out and picking it up.

"So, Bat Mate, ever play any poker?" Helena shook her head. If these two ever got to be friends, she could see global disaster looming. Bat Mite shook his head, and Mav reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. He never could resist the lure of a gold nugget!

As she watched Maverick teach poker to Bat Mite, and Mite in turn showing Maverick some sleight-of-hand tricks, Helena was struck by a strange coincidence.

She had been going over the invitation list with Alfred, when an interesting confluence of names had caught her attention. Richard had invited a friend he had met in South Africa, a cricket player named Graeme Smith. The next person on the list was a friend of hers from college, Allen Dickerson. Allen had been a bit of a science nerd, and had eventually specialized in chiropterology. Next was Joe DiMaggio, a guest of Karen's. She had met him on a business meeting with her advertising firm, as DiMaggio was also a client. Added to Alfred, these men made 4. Adding her two 'guests' brought the total at least to 6.