When Bruce woke again, he was still lying facedown on a bed, though the bed beneath him was much softer than an operating table. Seeing the pattern on the floor, he knew he was probably in Schiller's office at New Arkham Asylum. Once he dispelled the hallucinations before his eyes, he saw Schiller sitting beside him.
That was probably still the sick one, because he was wearing a dark red Prince of Wales three-piece suit and a blue-and-gold paisley tie. Leaning sideways in his chair with narrowed eyes, he seemed to be dozing off.
Behind Schiller, on the sofa in the office's sitting area, Diana and Hal seemed to be egging Clark on to ruin Schiller's expensive cigars—or rather, the two of them were ruining Schiller's expensive cigars and trying to persuade Clark to take the blame.
What Bruce had not expected was that Amanda stood at the foot of his bed with her arms crossed. She was also the first to notice that Bruce had woken up.
Amanda stared at Bruce with an utterly speechless expression. When Bruce's gaze fell on her, she shifted her weight by stepping forward with one foot, opened her mouth but hesitated, glanced between Bruce and Schiller, and only then spoke.
"Listen, I don't care what the hell kind of relationship you two have. I just want to know why the hell you had to make this kind of mess in my prison! And twice, too!"
"Language," Schiller reminded her as he slowly opened his eyes.
Amanda took a deep breath, then let it out. Her arms remained crossed as she stood where she was and said, "Sorry, Professor. I just want to know who can be held responsible for this. It shouldn't be me, right?!"
"Elliot." Bruce blinked at a steady rhythm and