[ There's always one of two reactions to that story. A polite laugh. A knowing smirk. An acknowledgment of his antics. Ol Brucie's at it again as it were. And then there's reactions like Oswald's: subdued. Uninterested. Like its one of those dime-a-dozen kind of tales, something to laugh about over expensive cocktails and backhanded compliments. Those reactions are almost always the most interesting. Because the charm isn't working as intended and Bruce has to find another advantage.

That billion dollar smile and that somewhat crass humor would only carry him so far with someone like Oswald. Eventually, he'd see right through him--or worse, get bored of him. So it's often better to lean into something a little more sincere. Men like Oswald didn't want to be jerked around. Selectively offered sincerity could keep the conversation flowing just as effectively.

Bruce softens the smile, so it doesn't feel quite so forced. Lowers his pitch and slows the pace of his words. Not enough to be noticed outright. But it's enough to shift the rhythm, make the conversation flow a little slower. He leans in against the bar, shifts just so, so he's leaning that much closer to Oswald. Like they're old friends having a quiet chat over drinks. ]

I don't know if I was or not. People think they'll get something out of me if they threaten me or kidnap me. Maybe that's what happened last night. Maybe not. [ He shrugs a little; like it happens often enough Bruce barely thinks about it anymore. ]

I remember that speech. [ And it made him recoil. ] I think you know what Gotham needs, probably better than any of us. You're out here in the trenches, I guess you could say.

[ He shifts a little where he stands, like something inside won't let him be still. Like something anxious is pushing and pulling him. ]

If I can help you in anyway, will you let me know?