Theodore sat in the pavilion, his peripheral vision fixed on the fountain pool.
Sure enough, Wayne didn't linger long at the abandoned fountain. He stood up, elegantly straightened his suit, then flashed his signature smile and walked towards Theodore.
"..."
Theodore silently gritted his teeth.
He won't even let him go. Did the black-haired, blue-eyed little boy perform a vasectomy on you in his previous life?
Or is it that for these rich n, every pretty child has a powerful point-to-point magnet installed on them?
In that instant, Theodore had already begun to conceive a hundred ways for rich n to die in his mind:
Death by orgasm, death by orgasm, death by orgasm... every death is by orgasm!
Wayne's footsteps were getting closer.
Theodore chose not to get up and move to another spot.
It wasn't that he didn't want to escape.
It was just that if he left too hastily, his evasion and weakness would be laid bare.
Like a hedgehog accidentally exposing its belly, or a bird spilling blood from its wound at the entrance of its nest.
Once a weakness is exposed in broad daylight, the hyenas, slling blood, will imdiately pick up the scent.
So Theodore couldn't hide.
Based on experience, his evasion would only stimulate the other party's hunting interest.
Think about it, how alluring a prey, how delicious a al, a dishevelled boy, forced to flee in panic yet helpless, would beco in the eyes of a perverted rich man.
Beneath his cuff, Theodore's fingers silently tightened. But on the surface, he still looked calmly and indifferently at Bruce Wayne.
Wayne leaned slightly towards Theodore: "Hi, we et again, may I sit here?"
Theodore suppressed the urge to tilt his head back and avoid him: "Please do."
Bruce sat down with his charming smile, as if he couldn't see the subtle rejection on Theodore's face.
He tilted his head at Theodore, showing a friendly expression that was always successful in social settings.
"You don't seem very happy, kid. If I'm not mistaken, this is our first ti eting—did I say sothing wrong just now? Or do you have a little prejudice against rich people?"
Theodore gave a fake smile: "How could that be, you've misunderstood, Mr. Wayne."
But at the sa ti, in Theodore's heart—
Yes, he does have prejudice against rich people, so what?
Especially you, the playboy type, with black hair, living in mansions, and having unspeakable hobbies, you big rich n.
Think about the illegal and disorderly things you've done in your first half of life.
Does this man in front of him even have the nerve to ask that question?
Bruce looked a little troubled: "Are you usually so quiet?"
"Please forgive ," Theodore said coolly, "I'm a little nervous."
As he said this, Theodore was practically grinding his back molars fiercely.
"After all—facing an extraordinary, unique big shot like Mr. Wayne, who wouldn't be nervous when talking to you?"
Bruce laughed easily.
"Oh my, kid, you're going to flatter to no end."
Wayne suddenly leaned forward, closer to Theodore.
This sudden movent almost made Theodore jump off his stool, reflexively wanting to give the other party an uppercut.
Under Theodore's tense gaze, Bruce winked at him.
It was that kind of unspoken wink, "You're willing to keep a secret with ."
His eyes were as deep as the sea, but at the mont of eye contact, they would make one lose themselves in thoughts of honey, maple syrup, chocolate... in short, all the sweet things in the world.
"Don't call Mr. Wayne, don't you think that title is too formal? If you want, just call Bruce."
Theodore: "!!!"
Theodore trembled and shrunk back into his seat.
Miscalculation! He miscalculated!
Applying his experience with a previous foster father to Gotham's richest man resulted in a misjudgnt.
Theodore's previous rich foster father, Stanley W. nar, was an out-and-out pervert.
But Bruce was different.
Besides his extrely bad habits, he was also the famous Gotham Baby, the household sweetheart Bruce, the kind who changed female companions more often than clothes!
So now, this led to...
In broad daylight, the rich man indeed didn't lay a hand on him.
But...
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