However, he thought, as he slid his scrambled eggs out of the pan and onto his plate, he now had Knox to fill him in, if he had any questions. Not to mention, there was going to be something about him in the papers now, and he had to be prepared, know what it said, in case the muckrakers showed up at his doorstep. Shaking off a chill at the memory of the last time he had let himself be caught unprepared, he set his plate down on the small kitchen table - no need to bother with the bigger one if it was just himself - and went to retrieve the stack of papers.
Smiling slightly at the thought of getting back into the swing of things, he took the first Gotham Globe from the bottom of the stack, dated November 27. He read the front page thoroughly - an article about the GPS, an expose on the dwindling amount of vaccinations available for the upcoming flu season, some new-fangled wing added on to Wayne Enterprises.
Wayne. Hm. The name sparked a flint at the back of Max's mind, and he turned thoughtfully past the sports to the social section. If he was going to make his re-entry into Gotham, he'd need to know what Wayne was up against, the little silver-spooned twerp.
The paper fell to the table from Max's hands with a soft rustle, drowned out by the thundering of his heart.
The article was about the party. And had Max bothered to read it, there would have been a line or two regarding the rumor of his appearance.
But none of that mattered. None of that even registered on the Richter scale.
Right there. Right smack in the middle of the page, in color, smaller than life, but still alive. Talking to Wayne. Having the time of her apparently continued life.
"Well," Max breathed, his tone going from unsettled to dangerously unruffled in a matter of syllables. "This ... changes things entirely."