[The next three weeks are a tense and silent affair. Crane follows a routine. He pursues his career at the university; he drives home; he furthers his work at Arkham Asylum; he drives home. But much as where he visits is a routine, where he spends his time is not. There are days he never leaves the asylum. There are days he never arrives. Sometimes he spends hours in class. Sometimes he wastes hours directing graduate research. But time is never wasted. Because as much as he wastes time looking over patient files, he is selecting those who fit his criteria, though their records might show they are unsuitable. Because he has his own standards when it comes to medical records and applies those as a filter, not those gained from local doctors and hospitals.
But something lands on his desk one day that lies outside the ordinary. The announcement of the latest round of university funding - and under his department (and for his research) is a generous donation by Bruce Wayne. The name stands out immediately, but the name he sees is not the name everyone else is amazed to see. Their whispers echo around the halls.
How on earth did Crane get so much?
Does this mean he is actually going to attend a function?
Do you suppose he'll finally purchase a proper suit?
Bruce imposes himself upon his domain - research and academia - and plants his flag. But the reason he is attending today's function - enduring all this pointless backslapping and gratitude - is not to return the favour. He isn't even here to fight his corner. He is attending out of curiosity. To see what could happen. To predict what might happen. To show what will happen. He watches everybody from the edge of the room, dressed in his normal suit, his cold mind categorising those willing to dance from those preferring to indulge in alcohol. He is perhaps one of the few, other than Bruce himself, to attend alone.]
The Gala
But something lands on his desk one day that lies outside the ordinary. The announcement of the latest round of university funding - and under his department (and for his research) is a generous donation by Bruce Wayne. The name stands out immediately, but the name he sees is not the name everyone else is amazed to see. Their whispers echo around the halls.
Does this mean he is actually going to attend a function?
Do you suppose he'll finally purchase a proper suit?
Bruce imposes himself upon his domain - research and academia - and plants his flag. But the reason he is attending today's function - enduring all this pointless backslapping and gratitude - is not to return the favour. He isn't even here to fight his corner. He is attending out of curiosity. To see what could happen. To predict what might happen. To show what will happen. He watches everybody from the edge of the room, dressed in his normal suit, his cold mind categorising those willing to dance from those preferring to indulge in alcohol. He is perhaps one of the few, other than Bruce himself, to attend alone.]