In The Bleak Frozen Shadows of the Winter of Our Discontent

[metromarvel]

Ah, Gotham. The city so nice they named it...well, once. One and a half, Clark Kent figures, if you count that it's in Gotham County. Trust this city to be too good for a darn nickname. That was the secret truth behind Gotham City; the whole place was fascinated with its own bad reputation, to the point where Clark could see the rich trying to be a

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[_darkknight_]

And this is Gotham's elite, who are often more occupied with drinking and gossiping than paying attention to something as insignificant as the people handing out food and drink. They never learn, even after years of seeing the Joker's henchmen sneak in with their garish attire or Two-Face posing as the average party-goer for hours at time despite the ruination of fifty percent of his features.

Besides, don't the Batman and his cronies manage to show up when trouble visits them?

As it happens, suffering at this particular party is billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, who has a glass of scotch on the rocks in one hand and a blonde in the other, smiling the smile that wins so many photographs. It's as phony as the beard Clark is wearing, but he carries it off well enough while whispers about the blonde - who so clearly is not Selina Kyle - travel through the room.

Bruce himself looks drunk...and his gaze is fixed on the behemoth "caterer."

[metromarvel]

"scusi." Cilantro apologizes, having 'accidentally' bumped into a couple; the older fellow had been getting a little grabby with the young woman he'd gotten up against the wall, and she takes the social loophole to make a grateful exit. "Sorry, sorry, I..." Oh good, Bruce.

With a blonde.

Aw crud. Clark-err, Cilantro does his best to keep the act up, standing and moving in a way neither Clark Kent or Superman would ever consider moving. Well, not in public at least. That indulgence...but he'd be yelling by now if he was sure, Cilantro affirms to himself, calmly picking up a few drinks to make the rounds and waaaaait a second what the hell is Bruce actually drinking?!

Man, maybe there's more to the 'Someone's drugged one of them.' story than he thought...

[_darkknight_]

Bruce leans close to the blonde, whispers in her ear, pats her...well, a spot that Kent wouldn't touch in public, even on Lois, in a million years, then he staggers in the direction where "Cilantro" is heading.

And past him, out to the balcony. Ah, fresh air. Solitude. A moment later, once the door is closed, Clark's super-hearing should be able to make out a mutter. "What the hell are you doing in Gotham with that beard?"

[metromarvel]

Clark resists the urge...it's overpowering...come on, you can control your personal gravity field...

No, no. He blushes. Darn it. Repressing the urge to punch Bruce off of his own building, Cilantro calmly sets his plate down, motions to another waiter to pick up the slack, and shrugs in the universal language of servers everywhere: The boss wants to see me, what can you do?

That'll handily explain any yelling that will-umm, might occur, Clark thinks, as he calmly slips outside and mentions, "I'm working." A pause. "Did you lose a bet or something?"