Masks and polite untruths
Bruce drove himself. It was nice to do that every once in a while. And since it was the Lamborghini, it was perfectly in character for the billionaire playboy. As were the stupid grin and vapid eyes as he goes up the the Desk Sargent (a horse faced woman) and start charming her as he's asking for how to find Commissioner Gorgon. The woman seemed torn between amusement and the desire to read him the riot act. In the end he got his needed directions and only got "lost" twice.
Poking his head into top floor hallway he smiled idiotically for the few people there and proceeded to saunter his way to the door of Jim's office. It's a plain enough door with his name and title on the thick, bubbled safety glass. Bullet proof. Bruce had made sure of that when the reconstruction began after the quake. A manicured hand raps on the door and then he's opening it, striding in.
"Hello Commissioner. So where is the little tyke? Ha ha."
Poking his head into top floor hallway he smiled idiotically for the few people there and proceeded to saunter his way to the door of Jim's office. It's a plain enough door with his name and title on the thick, bubbled safety glass. Bullet proof. Bruce had made sure of that when the reconstruction began after the quake. A manicured hand raps on the door and then he's opening it, striding in.
"Hello Commissioner. So where is the little tyke? Ha ha."