Bruce was a bit more cleaned up by the time he arrived at the Mayor's estate with Ashby in tow. He was in a bit more of a refined suit, a definite step up from his bathrobe that stunk of alcohol, yet again. It was crisp and black, with a white dress shirt under the coat and a blue tie, though this was more of a forced attempt on account of Ashby attempting to clean him up. If it were Bruce's choice he would have stayed in that bathrobe, because who the hell cared if he wasn't dressed up, it was HIS birthday, damnit. "I still don't get why the hell you wanted me to come here." He muttered, out of the corner of his mouth, a rather fake smile on his face otherwise. Ashby was walking with him inside as he shot back "Well, sir, though you insist on laying on the ground in a pool of your own bodily excretions, you still have a commitment to this city, and to yourself. Though Batman is long gone, Bruce Wayne is not." This made Bruce pause mid-step, and Ashby turned around to face him, expecting a response. It seemed the wheels were turning in Bruce's head before he remarked, rather coldly, rather quietly, "Get off your moral high horse and leave me the hell alone." This left Ashby agape, flabbergasted, as Bruce trudged off to the bar.
He sat down with an exasperated sort of sigh on one of the stools, telling the bartender to give him a drink and keep them coming. He went through four or five like this, and once back to a bit more normal of a state for him the LAST thing he needed to see was what stepped up to the bar. There she was, Selina Kyle, with an engagement ring tightly wound around her finger. She was overweight now, much bigger than she was back when she was Wonder Woman. She ordered a glass of white wine, something Bruce would expect from that filth of a woman as she sat down next to him, seeming to not realize he was there. "Who..." He paused, taking a drink from his third or fourth whiskey bottle. "Who the hell invited you?" This made Selina turn sharply, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, it seemed. "Oh, god, Bruce..." She whispered, watching him with the gaze of a deer in the headlights. "You didn't answer my question, Se-li-na." He said with a frosty tone, drawing out her name in a sarcastic sort of way. "Who the HELL invited you."
"Does it really matter, Bruce?" Selina asked quietly, watching him with that inderectly condescending gaze she had whenever he had come home drunk. "Does it matter who invited me? Everyone's here that knows you, why single ME out?" "...You know full well why the hell I'm singling you out." Bruce remarked quietly, through gritted teeth. "Come on, Bruce." Selina said, quiet still. "Maybe this wasn't the best time; I just wanted to say happy birthday, that's all..." "Happy birthday?" He asked quietly. "Happy birthday? How the HELL can it be happy when I'm staring the whore that left me for CLARK in the FACE!?" His voice was a vehement hiss, one that was ravaged with five years of hate for the woman sitting in front of him. His volume was rising now, Selina could no longer respond, for fear of pissing him off more. "You stabbed me in the BACK, Selina. He was the one true friend I had, one that I thought I'd have for a long damn time, and EVERYTHING changed when you decided to walk out on me when I NEEDED YOU MOST!" He stood sharply, slamming his fist into the bar. There was a bit of a crowd gathering now, people were starting to talk behind his back, hoping to be quiet enough so that the pissed off old man at the bar wouldn't round on THEM next. "I LOVED YOU!" He snapped at her, teeth gritted so tightly they hurt. "I loved you with all my BEING, I gave you my LIFE and my SOUL to be with you! And you BEAT ME DOWN, SELINA! YOU LEFT ME WITH NOTHING!" Selina sat there, agape, eyes wide and jaw slackened in a fruitless attempt to respond. There were soon whispering people being shoved aside as a gruff voice snapped "Let me through." And there he was, the Superman, Clark Kent. "Let's go, Selina. Bruce is drunk, just leave him alone, let's go." His hand rested on her shoulder, pulling her up gently and starting to guide her away. "WAIT A DAMNED MINUTE." Bruce snapped, eyebrows creased, face and body shaking with five years worth of anger. "WHO INVITED YOU, YOU GOD DAMNED BOYSCOUT!?" He pointed a shaking finger at Clark's back, who slowly, slowly turned around. "...Bruce. We're leaving. Call me when you're a bit less drunk." This made Bruce pause, if only for a moment, before turning back towards the bar, his fingernails grating across the hard polished surface.
"Fine. Go. Make things better for me." He snapped, watching the floor. "Happy birthday." He scoffed. "Right. I can't stand looking at either of you; GET OUT. WHO THE HELL INVITED YOU ANYWAY!?" But Bruce was talking to the back of their heads as the doors swung shut behind them. He shook his head, soon slowly looking back up at the bartender. His now empty bottle of whiskey was sitting harmlessly on the bar in front of him. "Gimme another bottle." Bruce said quietly, eyes still narrow, and the bartender simply shook his head no. "I can't do that, sir, I'm going to have to cut you off for the night." "Cut me off? The hell you mean, cut me off!?" Bruce snapped, bringing his hands up from the bar and walking around in a large circle, going behind the bar himself. "You can't cut me off, I OWN you all!" He said, drawing out every word with a cold, angry tone. "I OWN YOU! DON'T YOU TRY AND TELL ME THAT I CAN'T DRINK ANYMORE!" He snatched a bottle in his shaking hand and started back around the bar. "You're ALL FIRED! GET THE HELL OUT! Try and cut ME off..." He then started off the bathroom for some currently unknown reason, a slight stumble to his step. And as he left, there were whispers of "Geez...He wasn't like that the last time I saw him..." and "...He's gotten a lot worse..." and "Wonder what'll happen now..." As he walked away Ashby was reassuring the shaken up employees that they still had jobs.
