This Isn't About the Money

"Bruce—no, Batman—smile. Your expression's too stiff."

Russell glanced at the photo. Under the camera lens, Bruce looked stern. Combined with the dim lighting in the ICU, half his face was covered in shadow, making his features sharply defined and giving him an aloof, icy presence.

It was obviously a bedwetting photo, yet Bruce's looks and bearing had somehow turned it into a trendy fashion magazine cover.

Anyone who didn't know better would think this was next year's latest trend!

"..."

Smiling was impossible. Bruce figured not even the Joker had ever made him smile, much less Russell's pale, powerless words.

"Bruce, the more you keep that straight face, the more real this picture looks. But if you grin like an idiot, no one will believe the person in the photo is you. After all, Batman's cold image is already deeply rooted in everyone's minds. Right?"

Russell tried earnestly to persuade him, but Bruce remained unmoved. He merely curled the corner of his mouth slightly, making his face a little less severe.

Fine. Very Silly Bird!

Russell silently gave him a thumbs-up. Just that faint smile at the corner of his lips completely changed the picture.

It was like one of those deadpan hosts who cracked dirty jokes and told gags with a straight face. Comedy wasn't just about exaggerated expressions; the contrast created by a cold face was what truly made people marvel.

After snapping over a hundred photos, Russell wondered whether he should take things a step further and have him make a V-sign or something.

But seeing Bruce's dark expression and how close he was to exploding, he decided to give him time to cool down and save the posing requests for next time.

There was plenty of time. No need to get fat in one bite!

"Deathstroke,