Bruce liked his time alone. He'd fly off and disappear into some no-name town for a break from being Brucie, from being Batman. He takes a night for himself in a dive bar.

But today, he finds himself in some far south honky tonk bar. It's not bad. The drinks are good and the people are friendly.

His blue gaze watches around with a lazy glance, sipping his whiskey. He likes the way it burns when he drinks it. He could get used to the music, too.