In the sitting room, Schiller and Batman sat on separate armchairs. Schiller poured Batman a glass of freshly opened whiskey. Looking at the golden liquid, Batman said, "I didn't expect you to like whiskey."
"Alberto sent it." Schiller swirled his glass. "It has more decorative value than flavor. It's too strong."
"How have you been lately?"
"Fairly well. But it looks like you've run into some problems, family-related ones."
"You're as professional as ever, Doctor. But as for the specifics, I can't really explain them. Everything is too noisy and chaotic."
"You know that isn't really the case. Your Batcave is quiet year-round, so you're simply unaccustomed to how lively Wayne Manor is right now."
"Perhaps." Batman took a sip. The ice melted slowly, so it was almost undiluted, strong enough to chip away at even his eternally immovable expression.
"I told you it was strong." Schiller smiled. He only swirled his drink without taking a sip.
"Why did you want to hold a party like this?" Batman asked.
"It seems you don't have the energy to beat around the bush anymore." Schiller changed the subject first, then, as Batman frowned slightly, said, "Gotham here is holding a grand event soon, though not a traditional celebration. For our generation, it's far too noisy and chaotic."
"Let me guess. Rock, rap, postmodern art exhibits, and naturism?"
Schiller laughed again at Batman's precise yet subtly metaphorical description. He set down his glass and continued, "More or less."
"Teenagers usually can't understand why we keep our distance from the revelry they're so obsessed with."
"Because we're all used to solitude."
"Quiet, not solitude. There are always things in life that needn't be changed. Just because something is good in legal, moral, and emotional terms doesn't mean you must throw yourself into it completely."