"I should have told you that you'd been expelled, hadn't I?" Schiller set down the file and looked up at Bruce. "And I don't teach anymore."
"I still don't know why you stopped being a professor," Bruce said, but Jonathan let out a sharp laugh. Staring into Bruce's eyes, he said, "You don't think it was because of you, do you? Of course not! He taught you for four years without quitting."
Bruce frowned slightly. Jonathan turned back around and said, "Because the shredder in his office broke."
Bruce looked at Schiller. Schiller continued writing with his head lowered and said, "That meant I had to leave the terrible academic garbage I received from students in my office overnight. Compared to that, I'd rather provide some psychological treatment assistance to every lunatic in Gotham."
Jonathan burst into wild laughter, gloating written all over his face. But Schiller remained utterly unmoved. He finally finished the documents in front of him, looked up at the two of them, and said, "If there's nothing else, leave. I have patients scheduled."
Still laughing, Jonathan put One Hand on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce instinctively grabbed his wrist, but Jonathan nimbly slipped his thin arm free. Shrugging, he said, "Come on, rich guy. I'll tell you exactly how that poor shredder broke."
After Jonathan and Bruce left, Schiller stared silently at the door for a long time. When the doorbell rang again, he glanced down at his watch, straightened his collar and tie, then went over and opened the door. A man and a woman stood outside.
"Good evening, Mrs. Fries. It's a pleasure to see you again."
Schiller gave the woman, dressed in light athletic wear, a brief hug. She smiled and said, "Just call me Nora."
"Of course. Come in."
Schiller held the door and