Bruce first looked Schiller over and said, "There's one rule to this game: no special abilities."
Following Bruce's gaze, Schiller saw the umbrella in his own hand. "It's just an umbrella. I won't use it for anything else."
Bruce stared at him for thirty seconds. In the end, Schiller made the umbrella vanish into thin air. "Fine. A world where you even have to buy your own umbrella is truly cruel. Come on, where do you live?"
"You're planning to stay at my place? You're not going to find a place of your own?" Bruce asked again.
Schiller took a deep breath. "Bruce Wayne, I hope you can show a basic degree of respect to the teacher who spent over two months chasing you for papers, checking your homework, and pushing you to study."
"You insisted I come live in the Slums to experience life. Not only can't I bring money or abilities, I can't even bring an umbrella. And now you actually expect me to find a place to live on my own on the very first night?!"
"What? Haven't your two months of failed Slums living taught you that respecting your teacher is one of the few ways to preserve your humanity when you've physically, and in most psychological respects, become a stray dog?"
Hearing Schiller say that, Bruce actually breathed a sigh of relief. Schiller had been acting far too strangely just now; Bruce had even thought Schiller had gone soft.
Fortunately, his professor had returned to normal within just a few minutes, back to his style of hating everyone equally.
So Bruce nodded and said, "My place is a little far away. If you want to come, we might have to walk for a long time."
"Then why don't we catch a ride?" Schiller countered.
"There