These things are always so damn dull, you think to yourself as you step into the gala, looking around the room at the stuffy aristocrats and pompous fancy folk.

There was really no way to help it. You needed to stake out the Wayne's place before you hit it. It should be an easy enough job, but it won't hurt to get aquainted.

You might even get really primitive and snag a few watches and wallets if you feel up to it.

These drunkards won't notice.

You wander around, keeping your head high as you sip champagne before a voice behind you makes you tense.

"Find what you're looking for?"

A smooth baritone says from behind you, and you look up. The man of the hour. Fuck, you'd climb him like a tree under different circumstances.