IT HAS BEEN HOURS NOW and all five of his escape attempts have been foiled ; between those who just had to know what new wonder he might be working on and those who are, really, just concerned for him ( why the flute, tony ? ) he has basically been brought back to square one, which here means the part of the room furthest from the exit. ironically, the last of these amazingly nosy people -- an old woman who actually tsked at him, staring daggers at his drink, before she took him by the arm and gave him a whole speech about staying strong and not doing anything stupid -- left him right next to the bar.
truth be told, he had specifically asked for his water to be poured into a champagne flute just for the fun of it. just to see what gloriously hilarious headlines the press could come up with come morning. but he was beginning to regret it, he would have thought that people standing right next to him would have noticed the clear lack of color in his glass, but he should have known they’d actually assume the worst.
it’s as he’s nursing his very plain, very warm water that he realizes just who he’s been dropped next to. “ we have to stop meeting like this ---- ” he grins, something light and fleeting, “ or maybe we should start hosting these events at coffee shops. what do you think, mister wayne ? ”
💖 @lightspast
