Sharp-eyed Tim immediately realized this was not the Bruce they knew. He quickly tugged on Dick beside him, telling him not to go over and join the commotion.
Harley let out a disappointed sigh. "The guest you mentioned was Batman?"
Once they got a clear look at Batman's face, everyone scattered at once, their disappointment written all over their faces.
Batman did not seem embarrassed. He looked at Schiller, his expression roughly saying, "Who gave you the courage to gather this many teenagers together?"
Schiller ignored him. He walked to the dining table, set down the bag in his hand, and called toward the living room, "Stop playing and come eat!"
Then they surged in, shoving one another like penguins. Schiller smacked Ted, who had leaned over to peek into the bag, and sent him stumbling toward the sink.
As they lined up to wash their hands, Schiller realized someone seemed to be missing from the line. He poked his head out through the kitchen doorway and saw Jason lying on the sofa.
"Jason twisted his ankle," Dick said as he took soap from the cabinet above. "We iced it for a while, and the swelling has gone down a bit. Do you want to examine it?"
Schiller went over to take a look and gently moved Jason's ankle, earning a string of agonized cries. Batman also walked behind the sofa and looked at the familiar youth.
"It's nothing serious. The bone's fine," Schiller said. "Twisting yourself up this badly takes a certain kind of talent."
Still half-asleep, Jason grumbled unhappily. He draped an arm over his eyes and mumbled, "I'm not eating. I'm going back to sleep for a while..."
Schiller shook his head but did not wake him. He merely went into the kitchen and said, "Save him