To almost everyone in high society, you were the anomaly. No nepotism got you where you were. It wasn't funding. It wasn't some ingenious business plan. No lotteries. Just plain old circumstance and success. It made everyone both intrigued and disdainful of you, especially since you yourself were quite young for elitist gatherings and galas, but nevertheless you attended them, skillfully weaving between conversations while maintaining a reputation like no other. Needless to say, you were on the watch list of plenty of rich folk, many who were gathered here tonight at a Wayne Gala, hosted at the Gotham Contemporary Art Gallery.

In the night, a pretty piece caught your eye, a gorgeous 16th century painting from Sicily, Italy portraying a garden with an ornately dressed young girl. The party, being of rich 'pompous fools and snobs', was inequivalently boorish and tiresome compared to what fun it would be to steal this from right under the snobs' noses. Of course, being a little too carefree, you did indeed steal it, and you stole it easily, no one caught you even as you left the scene of the crime for just less than a half hour to place the painting in your own collection. No one noticed your departure or your return - or so you thought until the one Mr. Wayne approached you himself, an unreadable smile on his face. "A smaller piece would have been easier to snatch, no?"