Bruce tried his very best to not roll his eyes outright. He wasn't very fond of them in the best of circumstances, and going to a party hosted by a known scumbag who loved exploiting his workers- in the range of the law, so he couldn't be punished- had rendered him practically miserable.

It was sadly necessary if he wanted to keep up the act of Brucie Wayne, because this man was on top of the pharmaceutical industry, and Wayne Entreprises wanted to crack into it.

Bruce sighed and held up a hand for a waiter. If he had to suffer, atleast he could drink some champagne to take the edge off. A waiter arrived, and Bruce immediately frowned.

The waiter looked way too young to be here, definitely not someone that should be employed yet, let alone at a place with alcohol flowing freely. But there were even more concerning things. The waiter had their head bowed, and Bruce had trouble seeing their expression. They also seemed to be shaking a little, and their hands, which were clasped tightly in front of them, were fidgeting.

Bruce's voice had a concerned tint to his voice when he asked, "Are you alright? You seem nervous."

Before they could reply, Bruce's eyes widened. Their fidgeting had caused the sleeves of their shirt to ride up, which exposed bruises on their skin. Clear, hand shaped bruises, in all colours stating that they were both old and new.

"What happened here? Are you in any sort of trouble?" His hand shot out on it's own, unthinking, holding their wrist and bringing it close to inspect it. Bruce immediately regretted it when the waiter flinched.