"Your fucking scheming is practically pelting my gold-rimmed glasses!"
"Make me principal? Does Wayne Enterprises lack the few million it would take to hire headhunters? You're just after my fists!" Yang Ming sprayed spit everywhere.
"Build a school that big in the East End, and you're tossing a slab of meat into a wolf den! Falcone, Maroni, Cobblepot, all those established gangs-which of them wouldn't want a bite?"
"Hire a security team on par with mercenaries, and you're looking at tens of millions of dollars a year, minimum. And they might not even be able to stop Gotham's suicidal lunatics!"
Yang Ming let go and jabbed Bruce's hard chest muscles:
"But as long as I, Yang Ming, sit in that principal's office, as long as that school has my name on it, every gang in the East End-hell, in all of Gotham-will have to check how tough their necks are before they even think about throwing a Molotov cocktail inside!"
"You're freeloading off a superpowered security guard who can take on an entire army! Bruce Wayne, you dirty bastard!"
Bruce let Yang Ming rant. He straightened his rumpled collar, not a trace of embarrassment at being exposed in his deep blue eyes.
"That's true." Bruce sounded as casual as if they were discussing dinner.
"You took out over thirty fully armed thugs outside 22 Lake Street in three minutes. Word has already spread: the Asian doctor with the gold-rimmed glasses in the East End is a monster who hits even harder than Batman."
"With you as principal, the school will be the safest place in Gotham." Bruce looked at him. "The security costs we save could build two more dormitories and buy five thousand more computers for the classrooms."
"Fuck your goddamn computers!" Yang Ming slapped the console. "You've already