Max had half-expected Bruce Wayne not to show up. But here he was, in his perfectly boring suit. What, did he miss the part that this was a costume ball? There had to be some reason why he was here, and it was not for the party itself.
"Ingenious costume," Max began, in a perfectly bitter tone. "Let me guess…trust-fund-goody-goody?"
Bruce's expression didn't change as he bit out a retort.
"Feeling good, huh? Yeah, well, you almost made a monster of the Mayor of Gotham City."
Max narrowed his eyes.
"I am the light in this city," he declared. "And I am its mean, twisted soul. Does it matter whose mayor?"
Bruce still seemed mostly unfazed.
"It does to me."
Max scoffed his disdain.
"Yawn," then, he turned and left Bruce behind, fully intending to enjoy himself. How dare he? People like Bruce Wayne had grown up with everything handed to them through trust-funds and inheritance, not knowing or fully appreciating how people like Max had to struggle to become who they were. He would not be judged.
