"Why are you looking at me?" Bruce rolled his eyes. "Stop overthinking it. Take the photos back, find ten inferable details from them, and write a short paper. Give it to me tomorrow morning, and make it detailed."
Jena finally snapped back to her senses and hurriedly nodded. "Oh, okay, Professor. How many words should it be?"
"Five hundred words. Watch your punctuation."
Jena nodded, took the photos, and left. When Bruce turned around, he found that one photo had been left on the table—the overhead shot of the corpse in the oil drum.
The corpse was curled up inside the oil drum, peaceful as a sleeping baby.
Because he had stayed late to tutor someone, Bruce was feeling a little hungry. He went to the cafeteria for a meal and found Schiller there as well.
"Good evening, Professor. Didn't you have dinner?"
Schiller shook his head. "I was busy grading papers."
"Whose paper?"
"Barry's. He couldn't settle on his final two sentences, so I had a two-hour video conference with him."
"I tutored Jena tonight." Bruce paused before continuing. "She's talented—in every respect."
"You want her to become Batgirl?"
"Not really. I don't even have a Robin. But I think she and her brother really need more guidance. They're both quite gifted. Oliver is more interested in her brother and thinks he has leadership potential."
"They're still too young," Schiller said. "Just like you were when you were young."
"I'm not old now either," Bruce muttered.
"You do know this phenomenon can be called regressive psychology, right?"
"But it's healthy. That's what the textbook says."
"Yes, a youthful mindset often comes from a happy, fulfilling life. It can't be considered pathological. But if you keep announcing it like that, people will think you like pretending to be younger than