Surprise!
It was another party.
You would think he'd make some friends. Be happier with the company. There were so many people.
You would think that.
But he would tune out their voices. Think of the evils that could've been unfolding in the city. Screams that could be calmed. Scum to be brought down. The city called him…whispered in his ear…come…come, Ba-t-man, come. Seductively. Temptingly.
Bruce…Wayne…Bruce…Bruce Wayne!
"BRUCE WAYNE!"
He was startled that someone had actually called his name. Snapping out of his trance to see who the speaker was, he found it to be a man he didn't know. A smiling stranger. A stranger from a crowd of strangers.
Who are these people, Alfred? He thought.
The unfamiliar man came up to him and patted him on the back like they were good old friends. It was oh-what-a-nice-party-Bruce-you-got-a-nice-house comments with thank-you-very-much-I'm-glad-you're-enjoying-it-nice-to-see-you responses.
Just like always. Routine. Part of the script. Occasional ad-libbing to fit the circumstances of the day.
But his mind was somewhere else. The shadows of Gotham. The streets. The rooftops. The adrenaline rushes.
And then he woke up and felt the bruises from those previous nights. And there was Alfred with the breakfast and the bags of ice.
"Good morning, Master Wayne."
"Morning, Alfred."
Rachel was right.
Bruce is the mask.