He hates charity galas. Even police fundraisers. It's all for a good cause, sure. But he hates the rich crowd with a passion, hates their company, hates their attitudes
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He turns, and doubletakes. Oh, hell. He knows exactly who she is. It takes him a moment to remind himself that she's only ever seen him on the streets and rooftops as Robin. Did he mention he thinks she's actually kind of hot? He bites his lip, searches for something intelligent, witty and ingenious to say.
Sometimes I want to stand there and scream at them because they have no idea what could happen to them going home, or to their moms or dads because Two-Face decided to go on a rampage, or Joker decides to rob the bank they just happen to be in...
Nobody really wants to hang with me. I'm the token Rich Kid. And if they do, it's only because my guardian's Bruce Wayne, and they want something from him. They're not being friends with me because of who I am, but what I am.
She moves closer, as if to join him on the roof ledge, then she thinks about her dress being dry-clean only. "Yeah. We're not rich, but everyone knows who my dad is."
His tux is likely to have all kinds of friends by the time he goes back downstairs; but it's black, which hides a multitude of sins. Unless your name is Alfred. He's silent for a few moments as the cool night air hits his face.
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Hi.
Well... that was spectacularly lame.
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Same here. I thought for a few minutes I was seriously gonna die of spray-on starch poisoning.
His grin is probably somewhat goofier than he intended. Good thing it's not very bright up here.
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Nobody really wants to hang with me. I'm the token Rich Kid. And if they do, it's only because my guardian's Bruce Wayne, and they want something from him. They're not being friends with me because of who I am, but what I am.
He pulls a face.
Kind of like tonight.
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Do you ever wish things had been different?
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