Bruce was in his office, reading over some documents and talking to his assistant over the phone, making sure they were aware of the condition of every one that had been attended the gala. The billionaire wanted to make sure everyone received the proper help they needed, that letters and flower arrangements were sent out to those in the hospitals, and that condolences and financial aid were provided to those who had lost their loved ones in the event. He hated that feeling, of having to look someone in the face while knowing nothing he could say would be enough, and having to act like it didn’t matter. It does, he reminded himself, gaze falling on the secret passageway leading to the batcave. I’ll make sure of it. His thoughts were interrupted when Alfred entered the office, informing Bruce Thomas Elliot had come to visit him, a sigh escaping Bruce’s lips–though he wasn’t in the mood to see anyone, Tommy was an old friend, and a good one. He excused himself from the conversation with his secretary, walking over to the living room. “At this point, I think drama has taken up a permanent residency in my life,” he said chuckling, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Good thing you didn’t show up.” On a different occasion, the words would have been a joke, but at that moment they were very true–Thomas was one of the few lucky ones. “How about you? It’s been far too long, how have you been?”
