Of course, what lay before Bruce was not a whole steak, but scraps and trimmings. Still, judging by the quality of the meat, it was quite good—the kind of fine beef rich people ate regularly.
What came next surprised Bruce even more: a bowl of clam chowder, two oysters, two large sandwiches, and even a small piece of cake.
Selene rubbed her hands together and said, "Everything on the West Coast is great except the food. Home cooking is still the best..."
With that, she picked up her fork, speared a piece of beef, and put it straight into her mouth.
Watching her chew with such relish, Bruce felt hungry too. He picked up his knife and fork, cut off a small piece of steak, and put it in his mouth. Rich juices and fat burst across his tongue, and the heartwarming aroma left Bruce intoxicated.
It answered a question that had long puzzled him: the first time he had taken Catwoman to an upscale restaurant, she had not looked particularly surprised when she tasted the exorbitantly expensive steak.
But now the tables had turned. Bruce felt certain he had failed to control his expression, because Selene was watching him with a smirk.
Selene laughed and said, "You didn't think we all ate slop in the Slums, did you? Of course not!"
"Gotham is very rich. We figured that out long ago. Ordinary people may not have much money, but as long as the rich have money, we can drink a little of the soup too." Selene shrugged, then continued explaining.
"Because restaurants do good business, have lots of customers, and use lots of ingredients, they can buy their supplies more cheaply. So the boss doesn't care too much about waste, and the people working in restaurant kitchens are mostly